There was an abatement in the rain, but dark clouds loomed heavily overhead.
His walk to the candle shop went smoothly. He fished his key from his pocket as he made it towards the back entrance.
"Hm, one of me is in there." He mumbled, slotting the key into the hole. Besides seeing light coming through the cracks, he could hear what he assumed was the sound of wooden dipping racks being stacked one on top of another and the clanging of metal molds being moved about. And someone was singing their heart away. "At least he's in a good mood."
He opened the door. The bell rang. He entered.
No signs of whoever else was in the shop. The singing was faint, like there were somewhere in the storage rooms. Looking around, he could see they were busy. Freshly dipped candles were hanging in the cooling area, several molds were out on the counters ready to go, bright coals burned under one of the large dipping vets, and a few empty dipping racks were out waiting to have wicks tied to them.
"Busy." He liked the work ethic. "Warm in here." He tugged on his neckerchief. Heading over to the coat rack, he slipped off his coat and undid his vest.
The singing grew louder before coming to a confused halt.
"Dismas?" A voice similar to his spoke with a rasp. "What are you doing here?"
"Ello, Garrett." He recognized that unique rasp. Wasn't the rasp of a smoker, but of an injury to the throat. Turning his head, he saw his brown and equally gray-haired doppelgänger walking over to the empty dipping racks with arms full of spools of string. "See you've been industrious."
"Oi, oi, oi!" Garrett dropped the spools on the counter before turning his attention back to Dismas. "Don't change the subject." He marched over to him, eyes wide like he was seeing a ghost. Once he reached him, he investigated him from head to toe. Poking, prodding, and questioning if he should even be out of bed, especially with how pale he was.
"Just checking in and I'm fine." He rolled his eyes, ignoring his questions and prodding. "Mostly fine. It's mostly numb and tingles. But if touched…" He grimaced.
"I don't call coming back from a death of your caliber mostly fine." Garrett frowned as he pulled back and tugged on his blue neckerchief. Pulling it down to the base of his neck, revealing a nasty scar that encircled the majority of it and looked like whatever happened cut deep. "Don't pull a me."
"You would know, wouldn't you?" It was hard to ignore that scar on his friend's neck. A scar that was a daily reminder of his own death. Dismas only saw the aftermath before the wake. Glazed over eyes, a beaten body, an equally mangled neck with a metal-laced thorn whip still wrapped around it tightly. A week later, he was one of those lucky ones that rose from the grave. Left a lot of damage. Mind, body, and soul.
"Yeah, I would know." Garrett shook his head. "Just take it easy. You don't need to face problems like I did. Tried getting back in the game too fast to try and ignore the pain. Just fell apart faster."
"I'm taking it easy. Just wanted to check on things and do something light to relieve some stress. Something to keep me out of trouble and the Heirs' hair."
"Tch, we are too alike." Garrett shook his head before smirking. He readjusted his neckerchief.
"Well, you are me." Dismas grinned back.
"Who's to say I'm not the original?" He got into his face.
There was a little stare-down before they both laughed. Garrett patted his good shoulder before stepping back.
"Come on, one good arm and you can help me string the wicks." He headed to the counter.
A glimmer caught Dismas' eye. A red one. Looking down, he saw an all too familiar vial filled with a corrupting viscous crimson liquid hanging from Garrett's neck just below the neckerchief. He grimaced. A terrible fate his friend was afflicted with.
"How's the curse?" He asked as he followed. "Heard you were on the brink of an episode before my expedition left."
"Rgh," Garrett grunted as he looked at the floor, "I-I… slipped." He sounded so ashamed of himself. "Luckily, it was one of the Abominations I tore into. Their blighted blood stunned me long enough for them to restrain me. A few hours later, a party came back with some fresh stock and shoved it down my gullet. And here I am, back to 'normal'."
"Garrett, mate." He didn't know what to say. He was lucky he had avoided that plague spread by those revolting insects, but saw its effects. How it could drive anyone into a raving beast.
"Can't wait until the Vintners is fixed. Can't wait until we find a permanent cure." Garrett slammed his fist onto the counter, knocking a few spools onto the floor. There had to be one. "And want to find the bastard that sabotage it and spiked the wine with our stock of vial."
"Garrett." He placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the man shaking, shaking with rage. "You'll get through this. We'll all get through this."
"Tch." Garrett snorted. "The longer this courses through my veins, I can feel it changing me. Hell…" He turned away, finger tugging on his neckerchief.
"What?" He didn't like that pause. His eyes looked him over. He didn't have any of those hairs or unsightly cancerous growths those Bloodsuckers had. "What is it?"
Garrett glanced at him, eyes sad, and glanced away. "How's your appetite?"
Dismas let go of his shoulder and took a step back. "… What the hell are you going to show me?"
"This… this happened when I snapped." Garrett straightened himself up and loosened his neckerchief.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he opened his mouth. There was a slight bulge at the base of his neck. Within seconds, it grew, slowly creeping upwards. As it reached his jawline, he gagged, eyes rolling into the back of his head, head jerking side to side, back and forward like it was barely hanging on. As the bulge reached its apex, his head jerked back. Seconds later, there was a loud SCREEEE. A dark green thing sprung forth from his mouth, coated in a thick slime. It squirmed, whipping about, spreading fluids everywhere.
"What the!?" Dismas backed away again, raising his hand to shield himself from the errant fluids.
It took a moment for this thing to calm down to where it seemed like its "head" was looking about.
"What the hell, Garrett!?" Were the only words Dismas could muster up. Just what was he looking at? Was it a worm? Those Carrion Eaters from the Warrens? Didn't look like either. Really, it looked nothing like the mutations those Bloodsuckers suffered. It had a few of those mosquito hairs but looked nothing like those bloodsucking insects.
"Garrett?" He noticed he never responded.
Cautiously, he moved closer and to the side. Good, still breathing. There was a steady rise and fall to his chest. But those eyes were still white.
"Unconscious it see— Hm!?"
He wasn't sure why, he felt chills run down his spine. As if all of his senses were screaming at him to get away. He looked up, back at the thing. It was looking at him. A slit appeared before it slowly opened wide, revealing a sucker-like head and rows upon rows of sharp teeth.
"Is that leech?" He mumbled under his breath, finally recognizing some familiarity in the creature. He noticed it began to pulsate. "Oh, shi—"
SCREEE!!!
It lunged.
"FUCK!" Dismas jerked back.
Before it connected, Garrett sprung back to life and grabbed the thing. Its pulsating teeth were just mere inches from digging into Dismas' neck. Stumbling back, he pulled the thing back as it thrashed about, angry hissing for a meal.
"Arrugh, beohaove." He uttered disgruntled sounds as he wrangled his misbehaving appendage. It took him fetching it some raw meat(Dismas questioned how he missed that on the counter) to calm the thing down. He seemed to argue with it, mostly through glares, until it closed its mouth and slunk its way back down his throat. Just as uncomfortably long as it took to emerge, it took its sweet time going back down.
With one last gulp, Garrett doubled over gagging, nearly falling to his knees. "GAH! Bloody drama queen."
"What the fuck was that!? Dismas was hesitant to come near him.
"My oh-so-lucky mutation. A damn leech with its own mind, but sometimes it plays nice."
"H-how?"
"Beats me. We've consulted the Occultists and some others. They're just as stumped." He straightened himself back and rubbed his neck, wincing. "Best guess is I swallowed a corrupted leech in that boggy swamp roughly when I was infected and festered until the time was right."
"Damn, mate. Thought things couldn't get worse for ya…"
He just shrugged. "Learning to live with it."
"Mh hm."
Dismas rubbed his chin. His mind flooded with thoughts. To think he was so bothered by his death and resurrection and this variant of him had gone through the same and now how to deal with the Crimson Curse and a mutation. He needed to count his blessings. Things could be so much worse for himself.
Going to want to avoid catching this curse. And probably help assist in planning future expeditions to that Courtyard. Need to find a cure fast for all infected. Still mulling over his thoughts, he watched Garrett pick up the spools he had knocked over earlier. He truly wondered how his friend was coping with this. One trauma after another. How did they attract it? He needed some light in his life.
Light in his life. A thought crossed his mind. A particular someone. Raunchy thoughts filled his head. A wicked grin crept across his face. Should I make this joke? Poke the bear? He does need some cheering up. "Garrett. I'm curious."
"Yeah?" Garrett looked over at him.
"With the new appendage," he made a motion with his arm just past his mouth like how it erupted from his mouth, "what does the Lady of the Estate think?" The grin grew more.
Confused, Garrett squinted. "What? What are you get—"
"Oh, you know. It must make kissing and a few other activities excitin'." He made a few smooching noises before raising his hand to his mouth. He made a "V" with his fingers and stuck his tongue through it.
Those eyes squinted more before flying open. His face went beet red. Rage soon crossed. It all clicked. "Oh, fuck you, Dismas!" A spool sped through the air, aimed at his head.
Dismas laughed, quickly dodging it, only to get nailed by another fastball. "Oi! Messin' with ya, mate!"
Garrett slung some more curses(and spools) before finally calming down. The two worked together to clean up the mess.
"I would not dare spread this curse to Naidia." Garrett hissed. How could he even joke about that? He wanted to punch him badly, but stayed his fists. "And she's not a promiscuous woman. You know that."
"I know, I know." Dismas laughed. "She's told me of her youth. Her father and mother. Star-crossed lovers, unable to be together as business was more important to his family." He shook his head. The world of the upper echelon. A thought crossed his mind, causing him to snort. "Seems like you two are going to mimic the past. A 'gentlemen' thief and beguiling aristocrat. Though being more secretive." He still wondered how he managed to finally woo her. Most of his flirtations earned a thinly concealed ire and veiled threats from her brothers.
"Right. Her father played a dangerous gambit and failed." He sighed. The stories she shared with him in private were so sad. "Hm?" Garrett tilted his head. "Huh, never thought of it like that." His voice soon shifted to a whisper, despite it just being the two of them in there. "You know what would happen if the others found out?"
Dismas snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Questions, accusations, etcetera." He waved him off. "I can keep a secret. Been keepin' several for the Lady."
"You better."
"You still need to tell me how you finally charmed her. Dying to know." The thought wouldn't leave Dismas' mind. "I swear she was ready to boot you out with your insistent flirting months ago. And her brothers. Ha!" He slapped the counter. "I recall Diego wanted to throttle you, and Lucas threatened to turn you into fertilizer."
He smirked. "I can't share my best secrets now lest you steal her from me." Dismas laughed at that. "But I will say death humbled me. Allowed me to reevaluate my actions." He bristled when Naidia's brothers were mentioned. How those younger siblings were fiercely protective of her. "Santiago and Lucero still have their reservations about me. Even more so with this bloody curse. But we've been getting along." He cast a glance at Dismas. "Would you believe me if I told you I fear Lucero more than Santiago?"
"The small fry? Heh, yes." Dismas chuckled. "Looks can be deceiving with him. A frail appearance, but sharp perceptive mind. Knows his way around a sword."
"And deep knowledge of chemistry." His whole body shuddered as a particular memory came to mind. Fulfilling an odd job for Lucero also doubled as a thinly veiled threat. "Didn' know a body could melt like that…"
With the mess cleaned up, the two began to wrap the frames with the string. As they talked, Garrett caught him up on all things concerning the candle shop. Business was good and steady. More orders to fill as usual. And told him not to worry about Guildersleeve's order. He completed it once the others delivered the ingredients and deliver it. He complained her people skills were still lacking. Dismas defended their Plague Doctor, saying she just needed to get to know you. Garrett countered, saying she still spoke to him bluntly and like he was an idiot. Dismas said that was just her character, and he was an idiot when it came to the scientific stuff she did.
"And Meijer is doing better, even with the moon affecting things. Nearly back to his human self with all those treatments she's been doin'." Garrett spoke of the Abomination.
"Really?" Dismas' eyes lit up. He would have thought things would have made things worse. "That's good. Really good." Something that brightened his spirits. He would have to pay them a visit another day.
"So…" Garrett trailed off. Unsure of what to speak of next. Well, he had an idea, but would Dismas be willing to talk about it? He didn't when it happened.
"Talk." Dismas could almost sense he wanted to ask a personal question.
"Tch. Wanna talk about what happened?" He pointed at his arm and chest. "Take it you've had… nightmares… about them?" His hand shifted down to a locket he had looped in one of his belts. "Same thing happened to me."
Them. Dismas paused, taking in a shaky breath. Them. He didn't want to think about that night or them. Was it family? His sister and nephew? Or some unlucky strangers? He prayed it was the latter every day. But maybe he needed to talk about it. Face it. Garrett was one of the few he freely talked about that night. Who could better understand it than someone just like you that lived it? "We work and talk."
Like with Ashton and Taggart, he told him what he could remember, but went in more detail. it. Beginning. Middle. End. Resurrection and healing. Then the latest nightmare. He made an off comment that he needed to speak with Gael soon. Ease her guilt. But back to the memories. Parts of it were foggy and distant. Like his mind didn't want to remember the trauma. It bothered him. And not his mind couldn't stop thinking about them.
Garrett said the same happened to him after his death and resurrection. His group was tasked with eliminating Brigands bolstered by the Hag and her festering concoctions. One moment he was on the move to shoot a flying flask filled with a volatile spore concoction aimed at their heavy hitters. He nailed the shot and shanked the thrower, but the next thing he knew, something nasty wrapped around his neck. Tearing into it deeply. Choking him. Barely a second to react, he felt himself violently hoisted up and thrown about, the metal and thorns dug deeper and deeper into his throat. He wanted to yell, but he couldn't. The last thing he heard was someone to kill the brute and then felt several pops, then a sickening crack. Everything went back. When he rose from that grave, he could barely remember a thing. Over the days, bits and pieces of that day came back, but his mind blocked out the worst of it until it didn't. Then the nightmares hit full force.
"Them. Our greatest sin." Garrett sighed. "I think this place… links trauma together. Trying to get our minds to force us to face that night. Face it or go mad."
"Wish it wouldn't. Don't think I'm ready yet." Dismas shook his head.
"Don't think we'll ever be ready, mate. Just gotta face it."
"Hm. Yeah." Something both of them could agree on.
The two continued to work, getting the frames step up and ready for dipping. Once that was done, Garrett had to force Dismas to relent from wanting to do the hard work, since he only had one good arm.
"Do you want shit work? That's how you get shit work."
Instead, Dismas checked their stock and prepped future batches and other ingredients while Garrett did all the heavy work. His fingers fluttered through the various spices and fragrances that lined one wall, reading the labels and how they interacted in certain mixed. It was quite the collection, and it continued to grow with the Heirs' generosity.
Hmm. What did my sister and nephew like again? His mind was still dwelling on his sister and nephew. Back to the good days and that bakery. Perhaps making something they liked could be a step toward facing that guilt. Yes. Lavender, cinnamon, cloves… He rattled the spices in his mind as he plucked them from the wall, carefully balancing them on his sling.
With them in arms, he made his way over to the scales to weigh everything out.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Someone was banging on the back door.
He nearly jumped out of his skin with how harsh those bangs were. "Who the hell is here at this hour?"
"Expecting someone?" Garrett said to him.
"Pfft, no. Made it clear to a lot of people I wanted to be left alone."
"Give me a second and I'll check."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Wait…" He remembered he forgot to lock the door when he came in.
The knocking stopped. The handle rattled and then clicked. A second later, the door flung open, hitting the wall with such force it made it shake, and that bell rattled.
"Dismas!" A booming male voice called out. A voice all too familiar to the both of them. Especially, Dismas.
"Nooo." He groaned internally. "He's back already."
"Is that, Reynauld?" Garrett looked over at the commotion.
Before Garrett knew it, that Crusader came rushing over to him. Armor still covered in blood and grim. Huffing, near breathless. Sweaty, tired face full of worry.
"Dism— Wait…" He paused, eyes squinting. He studied him. Colors were off and did not suffer the wounds he had heard. "You are… Garrett."
"Yes, tin can." He shook his head. "He's over there by the spice wall." Garrett thumbed in Dismas' direction.
"You have my thanks." He patted his shoulder roughly before quickly returning to his mission.
As he made it past the equipment, he felt relief wash over him when he saw that familiar figure.
"Dismas! Are you o—"
"Reynauld. Are you trying to wake the dead with all that yelling?" Still wanting to work, he glanced over his shoulder as he poured out the ingredients on the scale.
Reynauld paused in his tracks, not expecting such bluntness from his friend. Did he not care he was concerned? "My friend, I just heard what had happened to you an—"
"I'm still alive and moving, mate." Again, he interrupted him.
"I was…" Reynauld's voice trailed off, unsure of how to respond.
An awkward silence filled the shop.
He grumbled and shook his head. Why do I get like this? He was his own worst enemy some days. Setting a container down, he turned to face Reynauld. Seeing the dejected look on his friend's face made him feel guilty.
"Sorry, I'm still dealing with things," he gestured to his injured arm and then jab a finger against his temple, "and just knew the moment you were back and found out, you'd hunt me down like the concerned hound you are." Moving towards him, he placed a hand on his shoulder. Doing his best to avoid the muck. "I appreciate the concern. I really do."
"You want to hear the story?" Dismas turned back to what he was measuring out, gesturing for Reynauld to follow. "You work."
"I have naught a single clue on how to make candles." He followed anyway.
"Then time for a crash course." Dismas grinned. He picked up a pail and plopped it in his friend's hands. Not expecting it, metal Reynauld fumbled the thing, metal clanging metal, but caught it before it hit the floor. Dismas then pointed over to a massive ceramic container in the corner. "Fill that with the pellets and I'll start talking. And you may want to take off some of that armor. It's hot in here and you will feel it."
Dismas told the tale again to the degree he has told Garrett as he trusted Reynauld deeply. All the details, aftereffects, and lingering darkness that clung to his mind. Minus the nightmares, he left that vague. He still hadn't told him the full details of his darkest secret.
Reynauld listened dutifully, not interrupting him once except to ask if he was doing his task correctly. He made a few mistakes here and there, but was learning quickly.
"So that's what happened. What's been bothering me." A sigh slipped free as he shook his head.
"Thy selfless act will not be forgotten, friend." Reynauld said. "And Gael, the young lady will recover from her guilt in due time."
"I hope so. Need to talk to get later."
"If you—"
"I rather not have you hovering. She finds you intimidating."
"Me? Intimidating? Preposterous!"
Garrett laughed and soon butted in. "A raging, righteous man in armored cloth like you would be intimidating."
"My righteous rage is only directed at our foes!"
"Unless you're off your rocker and rambling verses of the Light and how all of us are unholy sinners." Garrett was in the mood to rile him up.
"You insolent little—"
"Both of you cut the cackle or I'll cut out your tongues!" Dismas snapped.
"He began the squabble!" Reynauld retorted.
"Have to catch me first." Garrett taunted.
Dismas groaned. "Things were so quiet…"
It took some time before things quieted back down.
Dismas asked how Reynauld's excursion went as he was teaching the man how to melt the wax, mix in other ingredients, and other things. It was another venture back into the Ruins, slaying that undying Necromancer that once again came back to raise more dead. He let Reynauld ramble on and on how they battled and broke endless hordes of bones and those pesky cultists to get to their target. It was a fearsome fight, but they came out victorious despite the wounds and afflictions.
Reynauld raised his hand, fist clenched tightly. "By the Light, one day we will permanently banish that blight upon the castle."
"Just another part we'll figure out while cleaning up the Ancestor's mess." Dismas nodded.
"Most certainly! A plan that continues to be altered as we uncover more insidious plots and misdeeds."
Reynauld began to ramble on about the other atrocities they were close to wiping out. Dismas just nodded along, half listening. He was somewhere else. Mind drifting back to the nightmares. That night. Details he still hadn't shared with his closest friend.
"Reynauld." He said. Voice quiet and somber.
"And we will have to— Hm, yes?" Reynauld picked up his change of tone. He looked up from his task.
"About the nightmares. That night." He paused, searching for words. "You know how I've always stopped at the —"
"Collateral damage in the carriage part? Yes."
"It was a woman and child." He just blurted it out, voice nearly cracking. "It was reflex…" He spoke in a whisper. "I didn't mean to."
Reynauld's eyes went wide. He looked at his friend, watching him fight with his emotions. Tears welled up in those eyes and a quivering mouth. He knew those emotions. Immense, crushing guilt that would drown one's soul. "Dismas… you do not have to—"
"They looked just like my sister and nephew. Could have been my sister and nephew. I don't know. I didn't stay long. Didn't return home. I didn't want to know."
Reynauld could tell he was barely holding it together. Tears were running down his face and he was fruitless holding back sniffles. He carefully made motions to remove the ladle from his hands and snuff the fire. Once done, he opened his arms. It took a little goading before Dismas just collapsed in his arms and wept. Repeating those words, he always told himself.
I didn't mean to… it was a reflex
Reynauld held him close, gently patting his back.
So this was his brother in arms' darkest secret. His reason for forging a contract with Heirs and coming to this land, not for glory, but redemption. Like himself. Did the other Highway Men share this secret? He too noticed the strangeness and the others similar to him. Near immutable parts of their lives they all shared. He cast a glance towards Garrett. The man was avoiding looking over at them, but with how uncomfortable and sad he looked, he figured his thoughts were true.
Once calmed down and regained his composure, Dismas found himself drained of all energy. Mentally and physically. With Reynauld's help, they cleaned up where they were working, leaving it semi-prepped for another day, and bid Garrett goodnight.
There was a break in the rain, which made the trek more pleasant. Half way back to their accommodations, Reynauld had to nearly carry Dismas as the man was falling asleep on his feet. Thankfully, they made it back before the man collapsed.
"Hell… think I overdid staying up this late. Bed… take me to my bed." Dismas grunted as he felt that annoying pain radiate through his arm and chest more than ever.
"You are a stubborn man that pushes his body too far too quickly." Reynauld helped him to his bed. "Get some rest. We still have more talking to do in the morning."
Once he sat down, he began removing his outwear and undid the sling. A hiss of relief left his lips. "With how I'm feeling, make that evening. Or the next day. Light those on the nightstand candles before you go."
Reynauld shook his head. He lit the candles before he said goodbye and left for his quarters.
Once comfortable in bed, and the earthy aroma filled the room, Dismas promptly passed out.
As the next day came around and morning became noon, Dismas was still out cold.
Noticing his absence for a morning or noon meal, Reynauld came around to check on him to make sure he was still breathing. Thankfully, he was. The knight let out a snort, seeing the oddly contorted position Dismas was in; half of him was on the bed and the other on the floor. What one's body would do when it was tired. He just knew Dismas would be feeling that later.
Reynauld and a few others continued to check on Dismas throughout the day. A pair of nurses came by and doubled-checked his stitches and cleaned up and dressed them. Dismas never woke up. Only a few grunts and snorts were his responses to all the handling.
It wasn't until two days later that Dismas finally woke up. He had a massive crick in his neck that took ages to work out and soreness increased greatly for other regions of his body, but he felt like it was the best sleep he had in ages. A mostly dreamless sleep. A rarity he yearned for.
Realizing how long he had been out, he was going to try his best to take it easy until his body was mostly healed. The talks and long sleep helped clear his mind from the irrationality that clouded it. It wasn't the first time he had been like this, but that taste of death and so many things compounded together made different. He just had to slow down, take it easy, and let his body heal. Let his mind rest. How ever long that would take.
Dismas only had to worry about Reynauld sticking to him like glue for a few days — making sure he visited the Abby — before he finally gave him space. It was irritating at first, but he was thankful for his friend's concern for his health. And he hated to admit it, but the visits were helping alleviate his nightmares, allowing him to get some sound rest.
During this time, in private, Dismas shared more details of his checkered past, family, and the night he wanted to forget so badly. It was unpleasant. Heart wrenching at times, but he felt those heavy chains on his heart release. Reynauld cast little judgement as he listened, minus a few playful jabs at Dismas' thuggish youth. How could he? Though the crusade was righteous, he had participated in many questionable deeds and picked up bad habits. Pilfering hands developed as he and his men came across many treasures and knick knacks during the crusade. Quick pilfering hands that surprised Dismas in their early days at the Hamlet. Took forever to break that habit. A bit literally when Santiago, one of the Heirs, broke his hand when he pilfered one of his measuring tools and a pair of his brother's expensive glasses.
In turn, Reynauld told Dismas of his past. His conscription into the crusade and brutal training by the Church. The valiant victories and equal amount of misdeeds during those years. And then his return home. An attempt to. He mostly spoke of all the negatives at the Abbey, perhaps in a roundabout way to absolve his guilt and that dreaded regret of never truly returning home to his family. Was it truly a sin? He struggled with that daily. How were they? What were they doing now?
Dismas did his best to keep his sharp tongue in check whenever Reynauld spoke fondly of certain conquests, as that fondness would shift into enmity over certain actions he partook in. They both had a strong yearning to change parts of their past, but couldn't. They just had to live with it and work towards accepting their mistakes.
"Tch, heh, heh, heh..." Dismas tried his best to stifle a laugh to not disturb the tranquility of the Cloister
Reynauld raised a brow. What was so funny? "Hm?"
"We're not so different, you and I. Full of mistakes and regrets." A laugh slipped out before he quickly clamped a hand on his mouth. More snickering and chuckling snuck out despite his efforts. "T-t-o think we were at each other's throats in the beginning. Heh, heh, heh."
Reynauld thought for a moment. He snorted. "Heh, it seems so." He then looked away for a moment before he chuckled to himself again. "And now we have an inseparable bond.
Once finally free of his guardian knight, Dismas spent most of his time at the candle shop performing the lightest tasks Garrett and the others would let him do. Double checking orders, organizing supplies, measuring out ingredients, ordering supplies, and the list went on. Just light tasks though he wished he could do more. For now, it was enough to keep his mind busy, and the talks with Garrett helped. Another way to soothe his mind of that lingering nightmare.
He paid tailor Louis a visit and gave him the first half of the payment for his coat repair and accepted the offer for the second coat. Just in time before that special deal end. To his surprise, Louis had made some decent progress on repairing the coat. It was still in the rough stages of salvaging what was still viable, but he had nearly cleared out every trace of blood and other contaminants. The man was passionate about his craft.
Whenever he wasn't at the candle shop, Dismas meandered around the Hamlet. Catching up on what was new in the settlement, the people, and his fellow mercenaries.
He made sure to finally check up on Guildersleeve and Meijer at the Athenaeum. Bringing along freshly made candles. The two were doing fine, and Meijer was nearly back to normal. Though Guildersleeve looked dead tired as she had toiled away for many sleepless nights to heal their friend, she greeted him with a friendly tone and even cracked a smile. Such a rarity for her. He spent a few hours talking with them and helping Guildersleeve tidy her work area. The Plague Doctor thanked him for all the orders he fulfilled for the past two months and apologized for her rudeness during the ordeal. He told her she was fine, he was barely bothered with how increasing short she had become and understood she was concerned for her friend. Close bongs could make the most rational person act irrational.
On another outing, he learned that the Hamlet was expanding again. Reclaiming land lost to brigands and horrors long ago. Construction was plenty which attracted newcomers looking for work and some place to calm home. There were rumors there were plights of madness striking parts of the world. Dismas brushed it off as hearsay as most of these tales came from the loose lips of drunkard sailors and sleazy individuals.
They had made more progress in the Courtyard. The latest expeditions had mapped out more of the boggy gardens and they found two more keys. Just one step closer to answering the Viscount's invitation. Though a few more heroes had been struck by the dreaded curse. This of course riled the Fanatic and his would be supporters. Encounters with the mad monk had increased, leading to a few expeditions — with cursed members — being cut short. The Fanatic's pyres claimed a few. Others were lucky to come back badly burned. They needed to take care of the lunatic before he could set the whole Hamlet ablaze. Discussions to be had with the Heirs.
Speaking of Heirs. Lady Naidia requested an audience with him one evening. It wasn't anything urgent or her wanting to chastise him. It was just a time to chat, pick at each other's brains and compare notes. A little traditional that came to be when they got to know each other better a few months after they arrived at the Hamlet.
That evening came around. The balcony was set. The weather was pleasant with was a nice cool breeze. A pleasant change of pace from the recent thunderstorms.
Naidia was sitting at a table, fingers toiling away at some strange purple and green succulent-like plant. Dismas stood by the railing, nibbling on some bread and meat as he leaned against it.
"I hear you've been taking it easy." Naidia said, glancing up at him. She had noticed his more relaxed demeanor, and his skin color looked more vibrant.
"I have." He nodded. "Listening to doctor's n' nurse's orders," he paused before mumbling, shifting that arm in the sling, "and my body for once. Just light things. Garrett threatened to shank me if I dare lift any of the dipping racks."
"Good. Though I've heard Reynauld has had to force you to go to the Abbey for prayer and meditation. Am I correct?"
He grumbled before shaking his head. "You know I'm not a religious man."
"I know, but you know why you still live."
"Yes, yes." He rolled his eyes. He looked down at his arm in the sling, opening and clenching his fist. The tremors were less and same with the numbness. "Just some of those monks and nuns can be… pushy."
"Really? Heh." She raised a brow. She didn't believe that for a second.
"And some of those teachings and rituals. A load of crap, if you ask me. That penance chamber and flagellation feh!" He spat.
"We can agree on that. On others, we can disagree." She had a mostly neutral view on the religion. "I'll speak with Abbot Felix if he can rein in his members."
"Ha!" He slapped the railing, causing the metal to ring. "He can barely keep those zealot Flagellants in check!"
She only sighed in response.
Discussions shifted over to what was going on in the Hamlet and the current and future expeditions across the Estate. Dismas came over to the table to get a better look at the plans and maps she brought out after moving her plant to the side.
"Damn, how much of that Courtyard do we still need to explore?" His fingers traced the pathways of locations unfamiliar to him, sprawling into infinity.
"To be honest, there's too much to map out properly." She shook her head. "I don't believe the land can truly be recovered with the Curse that taints it."
"Unless we kill the source."
"If killing the source will even stop it."
"True." This curse seemed to differ from the other things they had to vanquish. Stronger, more potent, and older. "We should take a page from the Fanatic's book and raze the place once we're done."
She bristled, taking in a sharp breath. "Do not remind me of that lunatic. The townsfolk fear we'll have another Vvulf on our hands." She pinched the bridge of her nose. What an unpleasant day with those brigands and the damage they caused. "Bolstering the Hamlet's defenses to ease their minds has started to cut into the reserves."
"So we need to find the madman fast and," he paused, dragging his thumb across his throat, "off him."
"Easier said than done. He's elusive. Strikes when a party least expects it and at not at full strength."
"Huh, plays dirty." He rubbed his chin. "We'll just have to do that same. Lay a trap. Use the Cursed as a bait. Pull the trigger."
She narrowed her eyes, lips pulled back into a frown.
He just smiled. "With your permission, of course, ma'am."
"Yes, 'of course.'"
Discussions moved onto other expeditions. Such as one back to the dark, blood-soaked ruins of the mansion.
"Finally sending another elite group to dive back into that hellhole?" Dismas immediately recognized the map of the Darkest Dungeon.
He had been there once. Couldn't forget it. Such a darkness he had never encountered before. Twisting shadows, inhumane chanting, and a faint heart beat that pulsed through the earth. And the place reeked of blood. To think his group was the successful one with the things they had to face. Yet, that victory spread through the Hamlet like wild fire, raising everyone's spirits. That feeling was short-lived for him and the other three. In due time, intense nightmares struck them. Amplifying the ghosts of the past that haunted all of them and twisted them into utter monstrosities. A veil had been lifted, showing the world as it "truly was".
"It has been long overdue." Naidia nodded. "Additionally, reports of increased cult activity there have us concerned."
"Best of luck to those poor bastards." He shook his head. He wanted to avoid going back to the place at all costs. But, he had a deep nagging feeling he would be back there in the future. A clawing put in his stomach, calling him back to finish the fight in that hellish place.
"I have the Sanitarium preparing for the ailments and afflictions the group may suffer from once they return."
"Tch, can't undo that damn bloody veil being removed and all the terrors that come with it. Gonna have to be prepared for more secret keepers." He mumbled under his breath. It took forever for the nightmares to alleviate and even longer for him to get used to the "new" things he could see. He noticed the quiet "mhm" as she fiddled with her ring and necklace. Gifts from "friends". Two accessories of strange origins; one made of an alien plant, the other made of strange metals and bone. Friends. The mere thought made him laugh. Both consequences of her Ancestor's meddling, trickery, and dirty deals. But the two otherworldly beings seemed to be friendly and non-vindictive with their current circumstances and gave their aid to the Heirs.
Damn it. That tongue of his could be so troublesome. "Naidia… sorry. I don't mean to be insensitive since you and your brothers have been suffering from this affliction for gods know how long." He gestured towards those gifts and then that plant she had tended to earlier.
"Eh…" She shook her head. "It came with this duty. This… inheritance."
"You all never asked for —"
"Have you spoken with Gael yet?" She spoke. Words hitting quickly and abruptly. She kept her eyes busy by bringing out more maps and notes.
He closed his eyes and grimaced. One uncomfortable subject to another. Clever, and deserve this probing. He tugged on his collar. "Not yet."
"Avoiding her?" A hint of snark laced her voice.
"Yes, and no." He wasn't really sure. "I've been meaning to just haven't had the chance. Seems to make herself scarce if I'm in the area."
"Mhm. I hope that changes soon before the both of you are placed on the same expedition in the future. We have enough issues with the lot of you."
He snorted. "Right. I'll try to talk to her soon."
"Try to make it happen within a month."
They then moved back to speaking of other locations of the Estate. Just when they were wrapping up, one of Naidia's brothers made his appearance. It was the brainy one, Lucero. He had been dying to pick at Dismas' brain about the details of his death. Dismas wasn't exactly thrilled — and Naidia's snickers didn't help — but he amused him for an hour before finally making his escape back to his quarters to turn in for the night.
The days slipped by again. And once more, Dismas was at the Abbey to let that holy Light treat his injuries and soothe his mind.
For once, Reynauld didn't have to drag him there to make it in time for weekly services. Dismas still went through the motions, keeping most of his murmurs to himself. He figured out time would fly much faster when he did that.
After a long session of praying and holy water, Dismas was off to the side, waiting for Reynauld to finish his religious talks with Abbot Felix and others. Nothing he really needed to hear.
Until then, he made himself comfortable against a column and people watched; fiddling with a locket. Townsfolk came and went. Same with his fellow mercenaries seeking to release stress or absolve their sins. There were even some fresh faces. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hm, wonder if the Abbot's put in another order for the candles." He noticed a few sconces were empty.
Someone let out a faint gasp.
"Hm?" His head jerked towards the sound. A hooded figure was weaving through the crowd, quickly making their way towards one of the side doors. He recognized the hood. That fine embroidery of scripts from a holy book. "Gael?"
This may be my only chance. Quickly, he sprang to his and pursued her, maneuvering through the people until he lost her from sight. He growled as he looked around, spotting another side door. The layout of the Abbey and all its halls was hazy in his memory, but he could recall a few details and shortcuts.
"Think I can cut her off if I'm lucky." He dashed to the door.
A few minutes of running and navigating the halls until he finally caught her.
"OOF." He grunted.
"AH!" She shrieked.
More or so, she ran into him. He barely dug his heels into the floor to keep himself upright, while she bounced off his chest and fell to the floor. A few books clattered to the floor.
"I-I I am so sorry!" She shook her head, trying to regain her bearings. "In my haste, I was not paying atten— ah!" She gasped, one filled with fear. "D-D-D-Dis…" She couldn't utter his name.
His eyes lowered. He sighed, even more so when he saw tears welling in her eyes. How long had she been leaving with regret and fear? "Gael." His voice was calm. He kneeled down, first collecting the books and neatly stacking them in a pile, before stretching out his hand. "Let's talk."
All parts of her being were screaming at her to get up and disappear, but fear was overwhelming. She watched him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He didn't sound or look angry. Just sad. She eyed his hand before hesitantly grabbing it. "Okay."
Once she was back on her feet and had her books in her hands, Dismas had her follow him to the Abbey's gardens. Somewhere that would be more private.
It was pleasant outside. There was a cool breeze and enough cloud coverage to block out the harshest rays of the sun.
They moved to a more secluded part of the garden and sat on a bench. Things were silent for a bit. Dismas tugged on his neckerchief. Gael nervously tapped her thumbs against her books.
"Gael…" Dismas broke the silence. His tongue desperately searched for the right words. "I'm not angry at you. I was never angry with you." He figured it was best to start there.
"Dismas, I failed my duties and all of you. My cowardice cost you your—" She quickly bit her tongue when he narrowed his eyes.
"Did your composure break? Yes. But it's a part of this job in this mad place." He shook his head. He had been in her position before and it could happen again in the future. "I made the bullheaded choice to save you and suffered the consequences. I knew the potential costs."
"But your life… your arm! You may never be able to use it properly again."
"It's healing. By the Light," he paused and chuckled, "it is healing." He shifted the sling and showed her he had more movement in his hand. "It'll take time. Really, this rest period has been a boon for me mentally. That… death… roused unpleasant memories and haunting visions."
"Dismas, I'm so sorry." She still felt guilty.
"It's not your fault, Gael. It's been a long time coming. Can't run from my demons forever." He shook his head. "That's why I was so angry after you lot put me back together. Stress. Pain. My mind was still making sense of what happened and dwelling on past mistakes." His shoulders dropped as he looked away from her. "I'm sorry for my rudeness then. I just wanted to get away. Didn't want to talk about what had happened. It was all… it was… too much."
"Ah… I believe I understand now." She wasn't sure how to respond. There was still some guilt that lingered in her heart. Taking her hand off her books, she found his, gently grasped and squeezed it. "All is forgiven."
Her touch surprised him. He looked back at her. She stil'l looked worried, but much calmer. He smiled and squeezed her hand back.
"Tell me, how have you been doing since that day? I hope it hasn't scared you from future expeditions." He asked.
She tensed as she took in a deep breath. "I have been okay. W-worried about your recovery." She was hesitant to mention that. "I did take a break for some time, but have joined the lighter expeditions to get my bearings again."
The two chatted for some time, catching up on how they had both had been over the weeks before shifting back to his death. Gael still felt terrible, but the conversation helped absolve most of her guilt. Dismas' perspective and experience helped her understand she wasn't at fault and this could happen to anyone on any expedition. He brought up a few instances of others who had sacrificed limb and life to save a teammate, even those afflicted by madness that made them dangerous to their teammates. He even brought up something that happened to him in the early days of the Estate. How he had nearly sliced Reynauld's throat multiple times when he was stricken with paranoia. The Crusader had saved him from an ambush of ravenous Carrion Eaters in the Warrens. And the two were at odds in the beginning and loathed each other.
"Oh, dear!" Gael was shocked by the tale. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Still surprised me he didn't just kill me when he had the chance." Dismas laughed. "I know the others kept his righteous fury in check. Maybe the Heirs put some fear into him to not kill me since we didn't get along. Either way, he earned my respect once I was of sound mind again."
"The Heirs can be quite fearsome in their own right." She nodded at that.
There was the clanking of metal coming around the corner, as well as faint glimmers of light.
"Ah! There you are you sneaky shadow!" Reynauld voice boomed.
"Speaking of my guardian knight." Dismas snorted, rolling his eyes.
Gael tensed for a moment, seeing him before relaxing. "Always ready for battle, isn't he?" She noticed the Crusader was still fairly armored when "off duty" at the Hamlet.
"With what's happened to the Hamlet? It's best to always be ready."
Reynauld made it over to them. "Ah, hello there, Gael." He bowed to her. "You two have been chatting, no?"
"No, we've just been staring at the pretty flowers. Taking in the crisp air." Dismas' sarcasm was as thick as honey. "Of course we've been talking, you fool. Why else would we be out here?"
Reynauld's mustache bristled as he narrowed his eyes. "Does that snake of a tongue of yours ever cease?"
He grinned. "No."
"H-Hello, Reynauld." Gael stifled another laugh. How were these two friends? "We have been talking. And…" She paused and looked at Dismas. How full of life he was. That guilt was much lighter. "We have made amends."
"Is that so? That is wonderful to hear." A wide grin quickly replaced his scowl. "I do hate to interrupt your conversation, but," he looked at Dismas, "the Heirs have requested an audience with us."
"Really? What for?" Dismas got to his feet.
"The usual 'hush-hush' matters."
"Ah, probably that place." His eyes glanced towards the ruining cliff-side mansion. He soon mumbled under his breath. "Dreams have been getting weird again."
"The Heirs trust you two deeply." Gael commented. She had noticed the two when not on expeditions or busy with their own ventures would sometimes play bodyguard for the Heirs.
"We were the first to lend out aid to their cause." Reynauld said.
"Hired by them for this fool's errand." Dismas corrected, which got a scoff out of him. Well, Reynauld was more virtuous than him but was equally hurting for coin and fair shelter. "The five of us have been through a lot and come to an understanding, despite our differences."
"I see."
"It was good talking with you, Gael. How about we chat again? Dinner? Tonight?"
She thought for a moment before nodding. "I'll make sure I'm free."
"Sounds like a plan." He smiled back. He then looked at Reynauld. "Lead on, shiny."
Reynauld rolled his eyes. "See you again soon, Gael." He gave his goodbyes before the two left.