It was an arduous and hard journey back from Byrgenwerth, and Alfred was left in a foul mood. Once again, he had found nothing! He and Quincy had been attacked, quite unfairly, by a member of the Choir as soon as they entered the damned place, which was bad enough after being swarmed by the men turned flies outside.
When the two men entered, Quincy had looked upwards, hearing footsteps from the upper level of the old school.
The sight of one of the Choir brought back strong, hateful memories that he had tried to repress, but seeing one of the white robed, blind folded scholars descending the ancient, creaking Bergynwerth staircase awakened old childhood rage. Wordlessly, she attacked, lashing out with cane and tendril. He tried to control himself in battle, for Quincy's sake.
After a difficult battle, the Last Scholar lay dead, leaving him and his companion to explore the abandoned place. A clumsy movement on Alfred's part knocked over one of the many curious glass jars, spilling eyes all over the floor. Shamefully, he and Quincy both shouted in fear and surprise as the orbs bounced and rolled wetly across the wooden boards, trailing slime. What hideous things were the scholars doing here?
All of the ancient institution's walls were lined with dark wooden bookshelves, groaning under the weight of countless tomes. At one time, the shelves of arcane knowledge and countless books would have entranced him, but he was on a mission-there was no time to browse! Skimming through any promising books, he found little to do with the Blood, Vilebloods, or even his dear master-only a lot of gibberish about the Great Ones, eyes, and ascension of mankind. Worthless!
The only book that gave mention to the Wretched Creatures was old news-the scholar that betrayed his fellows. Damn that man for causing all this trouble!
Of course, Alfred had to reflect on the fact that without the traitor Scholar, what purpose would he have? No. No, that was not worth exploring. Not tonight.
At this point, he needed to give Quincy comfort, as the man was shaken over having to kill a human, not a beast, and another explosion of eyeballs after his coat brushed against another jar did little to help. He had patted QUincy's back in a jovial manner, congratulating him as the man stood there, staring at his bloodied axe, seeming transfixed.
"She attacked us first, dear Hunter. We took her down in self defense, yes? All this time among these books, with the beasts outside, must have driven her mad. No need to dwell." he had assured him. Quincy had swallowed hard, but nodded.
"Come now, it's just a few eyes. Nothing compared to the Beast we faced in Old Yharnam. They can't hurt you, they only roll about and make quite a mess." Alfred added, kicking away a large eyeball that had rolled by Quincy's embroidered boot.
"Right as always, partner." Quincy said, giving him a weak smile.
Having given up on moldering old tomes, he instead looked for any maps, praying for the way to the Vileblood's Castle. Of course, the bunch of fools of the Choir only saw fit to map the stars, only useful if they needed to sail and navigate! What was to be expected from a bunch who thought collecting eyes was a passable hobby, and that a simple walking stick turned whip was a decent weapon-his defeat at the hands of the Imposter was a fluke, of course. He had bid Quincy goodbye as the man started to take interest in the attic, climbing the stairs. Alfred was certain he would find the path to Cainhurst elsewhere, and he was unwilling to admit his fear of heights. Seeing Quincy nimbly climb the ladder made his right shoulder twinge with an old memory.
So here he was, stewing in disappointment by the Forest's opened gate, a state only interrupted when something that was strange even by the night's standards happened.
The world turned red, the hellish light shining behind him, leaving him staring at his own brilliantly blue shadow.
Alfred turned and looked upwards to behold an otherworldly sight. The moon-massive and engorged, loomed above him like it was to fall to earth and destroy him and the city. Through some trick of the light, or wicked prank of the gods, it was a hideous, pale red, casting a sinister halo in the churning, purple sky. Alfred gripped the iron railing, his knuckles going white under his gloves.
A child's wail echoed distantly. Alfred fumbled for a lead elixir.
-Long Ago-
Surrounded by chattering Choir and clergy, Laurence had felt fully in his element. It was a beautiful day, he had taken care of Logarius's demands, and performed another ritual to further to church, and most importantly, Mankind's ascension. He toasted his fellows, raising his wineglass to applause.
Everything was going wonderfully, until a long shadow fell over the small group, blocking out the radiant sunshine. Laurence could have sworn that the birds chirping in the eaves of Cathedral Ward went silent.
"Vicar Laurence." Logarious's voice was polite, but Laurence could hear the fury underneath. He craned his neck to see the artificially serene face of the Pthumerian.
"Logarius." Laurence responded evenly, swirling his wine in the glass with manufactured casualness. Seeing a towering, furious Pthumerian brought back terrifying memories of his time as a student, scouring the catacombs, but those times were long past. Logarius answered to him, and he would not dare make a scene in front of Laurence's devoted scholars and clergy.
"I wish to speak to you privately. About the newest Blood Saint." Laurence nodded shallowly, and turned to his company.
"Excuse me for just a moment."
The calm masks that both men wore broke off the second they were out of sight in a private, shaded alleyway. Laurence crossed his arms, glaring up at the Pthumerian as he erupted into anger. Crows perched in the stone gutters above took off at the sudden noise, cawing.
"You damned scoundrel!" Logarius thundered. "I ask for a blood saint, and you give me a child? What game are you playing here?!"
Laurence took a long pull from his drink, letting Logarius seethe.
"I gave you the first Blood Saint we could find. You Pthumerians live rather long, so you can wait a few years to draw his blood. Besides, Executioners join rather young, do they not? Gives you more time for indoctrination."
"He won't be an Executioner." Logarius growled. "Contact with Vilebloods would ruin his sacred blood."
"Right. It would not be a problem if you did not rely on such brutish methods." Laurence casually swirled his wine about. "Beating someone to death with a wheel is overkill, don't you think?"
"You disparage our ways while taking advantage of what I do. Because my Executioners and myself, the Vilebloods are trapped in their miserable castle, too scared to leave and face justice. Your church would not have lasted a day if they still held power in Yharnam." Logarius rumbled.
Laurence sneered.
"And if it was not for me, you would still be rotting in the Pthumerian Catacombs with your insane kin, waiting for the end of the world to finally bury your destroyed kingdom once and for all. Tell me, how long were you laying in that locked casket before an enterprising young student decided to investigate and let you out?"
Both men glared at each other silently. Laurence smirked as he saw tiny pinpricks of tears in the Pthumerian's eyes under his massive, bushy brows. It was far too easy to reopen a wound that was centuries old with the old bastard.
"Take the boy. You take good care of your men, so I trust you will take good care of Alfred. And don't make me regret digging you up." Laurence said, dramatically finishing his wine.
"I ought to use one of my wheels on you, Vicar." Logarius spat, giving a shallow bow.
"I'd like to see you try."
Amelia led Alfred out to the square where the others had congregated. Alfred tilted his head up, eyes closed to take in the sunshine on his pale, blood soaked skin.
"What are you doing?" Amelia giggled. He must have made a strange sight, a bloodied, white robed boy gazing upwards, eyes closed. He did not care, however.
"It's so warm out here." He said, not opening his eyes. "I'd touch the window pane when the sun was shining for the warmth, but now I can really feel it."
"I think the isolation made you a bit funny." Amelia said, smiling. He opened his eyes to grin back at her.
"I want to enjoy it, before I'm shut away again." Alfred started, noticing the look of horror on Amelia's face.
"Alfred, you won't be shut away ever again. I promise." She said, taking his hand.
"Are you sure?" A life where he was not cooped up in a tiny room, with only books for company, well, that only existed in the story books Amelia gave him. The idea that he could go outside, much like the knights and heroes of the yellowed old pages seemed even more like fiction then a man becoming the sun or a hero slaying a dragon.
"Yes! You were just very, very sick and needed to be kept indoors. You can walk around and breathe with no problems, so you can be outside as much as you like."
The world suddenly seemed a whole lot brighter. Alfred turned to see the Vicar and the man he had met in the Cathedral emerge from an alleyway, both looking somewhat unhappy. He gazed at the tall man curiously.
He had been frightened when he was approached by the giant, who had introduced himself as Master Logarius. He had shaken Alfred's hand in his massive grasp, and Logarius had smiled down warmly at him and ruffled his hair kindly, not minding the dampness from the soaking blood.
Alfred was unsure what to make of it. The meeting was much less unpleasant than being literally dragged to Laurence's office, and Logarius had seemed genuine when he was greeted. He had politely excused himself, and swept out as quickly as he came.
"Oh no, looks like the Vicar and Logarius were fighting again." Amelia sighed.
"Why? Why would they fight?" Alfred asked. Logarius noticed his gaze, and nodded, giving him a friendly smile.
"They don't really see eye to eye." Amelia replied. Alfred nodded. With how tall Logarius was, no one could see him eye to eye.
A man and a woman in blue robes joined Logarius as he walked away from the Vicar. Alfred noticed that a skinny, exhausted looking man suddenly cornered the Vicar, gesturing excitedly. Laurence shot Amelia a tired look before going to converse with the stranger.
"Oh, that's Micolash. Vicar Laurence was not happy to see him."
Is Vicar Laurence happy to see anyone? Alfred wondered, as the pair in blue robes approached him.
"You must be Alfred. Congratulations!" The man said, bending down to shake his hand. "I'm Philip, and this is Bernice." The woman nodded. Taller than the man and far broader, Bernice resembled one of the superhuman knights from Alfred's stories, her long brown hair carefully braided. Philip himself was of an average height, his dark skin typical of the people who lived on the southwestern part of the continent, as Alfred had learned pouring over maps and travelogues of Yharnam scholars.
Alfred could not take his eyes off their robes. A white symbol stood out on the front, framed by an elegantly embroidered hem. A dramatically draped cloak showed off the Church's holy banner.
"Welcome to the Executioners." Bernice said, giving him a powerful pat on the shoulder. "You have to be our youngest recruit so far, but don't worry, we have some boys and girls around your age to make friends."
"Oh, that's alright, I have Amelia!" Alfred said, smiling at her.
Philip frowned.
"Well, sorry Alfred, but we are supposed to take you to the Executioner's workshop today."
"Today? Where is it?" Alfred asked. Amelia shot him a worried look.
"Near the Forest. It's actually not too far from where Bergynwerth used to be. It's half a day by carriage, though." Philip said. "It's a lovely place. I'm sure you will love it there."
"Will I get to go outside?" Alfred asked, only to be confused when Bernice chuckled.
"Of course, lad." Bernice said. "That's where most of the training is, and you are going to be doing lots of it."
"Like a Squire?" Alfred asked, excited. The knights in the stories would start off as squies, students to noble knights who would teach them everything. The pathway to Knighthood was long and arduous, but once he was fully recovered, he would love to walk it.
"Well, No. Like an Executioner." Bernice said, confused. Philip jumped in.
"Well, you will train to become an executioner-do you need help getting the blood off?" He asked, pulling out a canteen and using the water to wet his own handkerchief. "I suppose the Vicar spilled a bit during communion."
Alfred tried to protest before Philip began gently wiping some of the blood off his face.
"Actually, it was his baptism as a Blood Saint." Amelia said. Philip froze mid wipe.
"Blood Saint? I thought-"
"Yes. He is going to be our Blood Saint." A deep voice said above them. Philip looked up to see Logarius, his golden robes and heavy necklaces gleaming in the sun.
"Ah, Master Logarius! Is the carriage ready?"
"Indeed." Logarius said. He looked down at Alfred, smiling.
"Alfred, this is Philip, my protege and right hand." He said, gesturing to the man.
"Pleased to meet you." Philip said, frowning at the soiled handkerchief.
"And this is Bernice, my left hand." Logarius continued, gesturing a skeletal hand at Bernice. She bowed.
"Are you really going to take Alfred away?" Amelia protested. "He's not really better yet, and he should study on how to be a Blood Saint first-"
"Executioners have our own ways, seperate from that of the Church, my child." Logarus said gently. "The Vicar has his own techniques, and I have mine." Amelia frowned, looking down at her boots. Alfred's heart twinged painfully to see his only friend looking so sad.
"I'll get to see her again, right?" He asked. Logarius had been kind and polite this whole time, surely he would not separate them so heartlessly?
"Of course. But you will be very busy." Logarius said gently. "You will train as an Executioner, despite having the position of a Blood Saint."
"I...I won't have to give blood yet, right?" Alfred asked, worried. Logarius chuckled.
"Of course you won't. You still have growing to do, and you are far too young to have blood drawn."
"Tell that to the Choir!" Alfred said bitterly. "They drew my blood all the time!"
"Well, to have blood drawn in larger amounts, that is." Logarius corrected himself. "Follow me to the carriage-of course, you should bid your friend goodbye, first."
As the man swept off, the two executioners in tow, Alfred turned to Amelia, smiling. His heart and heart was swirling with emotions and excitement. However, his cheerful gaze was met with her dour looking face, making his own smile vanish.
"So, this is goodbye, then." Amelia said sadly.
"Goodbye? No, don't worry, we will see each other again." Alfred promised, taking her hand. "I'm going to be an Executioner!"
"Alfred, do you even know what that means?" Amelia asked, nervousness in her voice.
Alfred frowned, furrowing his brow.
"Well, it sounds quite heroic." Alfred said. He had never read about Executioners before, but the golden robes and the friendliness of Philip and Bernice had him sold. The Church, other than Amelia, had been cold to him, but Logarius and his Executioners seemed as warm as the day's sunlight.
Amelia opened her mouth as if to explain, but shut it, smiling sadly.
"I'm...I'm happy for you. Oh! Please take this. I wanted to give it to you the other day, before I was thrown out. It should still be good."
She handed him a wrapped up napkin.
"It's strudel. Ludwig made it! I'm sure you will like it-"
"Alfred!" Bernice called distantly, waving him over to follow.
Amelia gazed after the retreating figures of the Executioners, then looked back at Alfred, her face unreadable. She suddenly embraced him, squeezing him tightly.
"I'll miss you, Alfred!" She exclaimed, squeezing him tightly Alfred hugged her back, confused. Surely, they would meet again, so why all the dramatics?
Alfred broke the hug, aware of the fact that Logarius, and his new destiny, was quickly leaving sight. He stared at Amelia for a moment, unsure of himself. He unwrapped the pastry and quickly popped it in his mouth, eyes widening at the flavor.
"Itsdeliciousthankyouverymuch-goodbye!" He said, being taking off a trot.
"Goodbye!" She called back. He turned back one last time, smiling.
Amelia watched him go, sadness in her heart. That morning, she was sure that Alfred would be her companion in her studies. Now, she was certain that they may never see each other again.
Oh, why did he have to go with the Executioners, and be so far away? Vicar Laurence put his hands on her shoulders comfortingly, having finally broken away from Micolash's excited chattering.
"Logarius will take good care of him. His men are well trained, well fed, and have better morale than most sects of the Church." He said, trying to comfort her.
"I wanted him to stay…" Amelia said sadly.
"It's for the good of the Church, Amelia. We have to make sacrifices." The Vicar said firmly, watching them go.
Bernice climbed up top on the Carriage. Alfred stared in wonder at the horses. He had only seen pictures of the creatures! In person, they were larger than expected, and actually quite frightening. He shied away from the beasts, trying to catch his breath from the sudden exertion until Philip placed a reassuring hand on his back, guiding him to the door.
Philip helped him into the carriage, and somehow, Logarius was able to fit his massively long body into the seat across from the both.
Alfred gave a small yelp as the carriage started moving, unused to the sensation.
"Master Logarius, I believed that Alfred was our newest recruit?" Philip said, breaking the silence.
"He is to be our Blood Saint when he is older." Logarius said, nodding at the boy.
"I see." Philip said, sounding uncomfortable. Alfred wondered why. He gazed out the window of the carriage, marveling at the scenery that whizzed past.
"Would you like to hear about our glorious mission, Alfred?" Logarious asked.
"Would I?" The boy perked up. Logarius chuckled.
"I was told you were very ill. I am glad such difficulties did not dampen your spirits." Logarius stroked his beard. "Now, where to begin. The history of the Executioners starts with a terrible betrayal."
Alfred leaned in, listening intently as he continued.
"When the Scholars of Bergynwerth breached the Pthumerian Catacombs, they found Oedon's holy blood. A blood that my people were gifted with, long, long ago, before we lost the favor of the Gods. The brave scholars entered the tombs, freeing the few of us sane Pthumerians that had been trapped below ground in the catacombs when the empire fell. The Sacred blood is a holy gift, but some of it was never to be used. It was a special type of the blood that was the downfall of our civilization." A fire was lit under Logarius's bushy brows. Philip turned away, gazing intently out the window.
"A scholar committed a great heresy in the deepest part of the tombs, stealing blood that had been woefully corrupted, a derivative of Oedon's own, warped by tragedy." His skeletal hands clutched the sides of the seat, pale knuckles going white.
"What happened then?" Alfred asked, enraptured.
"The scholar fled from justice, carrying the corrupted blood. He defected to a decadent old noble family, once vassals of the Pthumerian royals, who had grown powerful in their absence. Greedy for more power, they partook in the corrupted blood, uncaring of the great heresy they were committing. Empowered by vile blood, the nobles of Cainhurst declared themselves royals, Duke Cain declaring himself king of the lands of Hemwick and beyond."
"He brutally taxes the lands, building up his own coffers while taking money and resources away from those who have nothing to spare." Philip said, still gazing out the window.
"In addition to his wicked acts of blood heresy." Logarius rumbled.
"King Cain rules badly. He cares not for the lands under his thumb. Imagine, an everlasting, immortal tyrant, with his decadent wife and daughter, ruling forever." Philip said. Alfred listened, wide eyed. An evil king, a court of wicked, decadent royals, basking in evil blood. It was just like something out of a story, but it was all true, and he was now in the midst of it!
"This is a mission of faith and justice." Logarius reprimanded Philip. "Not for secular crimes. If King Cain and Queen Lilitha are allowed to continue their ways, the goodness of the Church's blood healing will be eroded by their evil. So, we continue on our radiant crusade."
"We have had much success so far. The Vilebloods fear to leave the walls of Castle Cainhurst. Each time one of the criminals dare to leave the castle, one of our heroic executioners hunts them down quickly, completely destroying them before they can spread their corruption."
"Do you wear armor?" Alfred asked, excited. Philip looked at him, chuckling.
"No, I'm afraid the time for armor is over. It's best to wear holy robes, allowing one to dodge away from bullets. The Vilebloods are skilled marksmen." Philip explained.
"Where there is a Vileblood, the foul Bloodlickers are not far behind, and even the best armor will not shield one against the ravenous jaws and claws of a beast." Logarous said, his tone grave.
"Bloodlickers?" Alfred asked, worriedly. Nothing good could be called a "Blood Licker".
"The Corrupted Blood causes some of those who partake in it's wickedness to transform into monsters. The victims wither, elongate, and grow shriveled, their tongues lengthening several feet. Craving for blood, they crawl about on all fours, searching for fresh prey to-" Logarius started before Philip drew a finger across his throat, jerking his head towards a very terrified and pale Alfred. Logarius coughed, relenting.
"Well, they do very, very terrible things in the pursuit of blood. Nothing a young lad like yourself should hear about until you are older, yes? Anyway, we will be joining forces with the Hunters, as for now, it seems that Vilebloods and this new beastly threat go hand in hand."
Steeling himself, Alfred put on a brave face.
"Will I get to battle these wicked creatures when I'm older?"
Philip looked at Logarius, who smiled. "I'm afraid not, my boy. You will have a much more important role, providing blood to heal your brothers and sisters, strengthening them in their battle against evil."
"You will still get to train with us, and learn our ways." Philip said, shooting Logaius a look, unseen by Alfred. The Pthumerian pressed his lips in a thin line.
"As a blood saint, he should have different duties, Philip." Logarius said as Philip continued anyway.
"It will help you get your strength back after being ill for so long. There's some young recruits only a few years older than you, as I mentioned before. You'll make lots of friends." Alfred looked up at Logarius, his eyes shining with excitement. Logarius sighed.
"As if you aren't only a few years older than the boy yourself. Acting like you run the place at only fifteen." Logarius said, shaking his head with a smile. Alfred looked wide eyed at Philip. To him, compared to himself and Amelia, Philip seemed so grown up and mature!
"You may train with the others. Quite unfair, Philip, putting words in my mouth."
"I have no idea what you mean, sir." Philip responded, smiling smugly.
The carriage ride became far more bumpy and turbulent as they neared the forest. The sun had begun to set behind the trees, flashing between the trunks to blind Alfred every time he peaked out the window. Philip rested against the back of the seat, eyes closed, the sun glinting off his shaved head whilst Logarius stared out the window, seemingly unbothered by the flashes of light.
"We should arrive soon. Tell me, are you excited to join our mission?" Logarius asked, keeping his voice low so not to disturb Philip."
"Yes! Very much so!" Alfred exclaimed, before covering his mouth, realizing he had spoken so loudly in his excitement. Logarius chuckled.
"I cannot wait to tell Amelia about all this!" Alfred whispered. The Pthumerian's brows furrowed, frowning behind his beard, but he remained silent.
The carriage slowed as the sun finally set, leaving behind a thin orange line on the horizon beneath the dark blue sky above, illuminating the ancient trees.
"We're here." Bernice called out, waking Philip from his slumber. The man stretched tiredly, looking up at Logarius.
"Why are we not stationed closer to the Church, again?" He asked, opening the door to let Alfred hop out to greet Bernice.
"Because I cannot stand that bastard Vicar." Logarius muttered, beginning the slow process of extracting a Pthmerian sized body out of a human size carriage.
"You should not say such things about the Vicar, sir." Philip said, holding the door open. Logarius smiled as he overheard the boy's excited chattering to Bernice.
"He's just an intermediary between us and the gods. He's not the great ones, just another one of us mortals, attempting to grasp at the heavens. As well as the fact he holds his position as the one to free us Pthumerians above our heads." Logarius stood upright with a loud crack. Philip winced.
"It's difficult to hold anything above your head, sir. Perhaps we should look into finding a carriage with a higher roof?"
"I won't waste necessary funding on mere comfort for myself." Logarius replied, stopping at the gates. Philip turned back to see Bernice and the boy standing by the horses, Bernice attempting to coax a shy and possibly rightfully fearful Alfred to give one of the two beasts a treat, starting with the friendlier, chestnut colored one.
"Are you certain they won't bite me?" Alfred asked. Bernice grinned, patting one of the horse's noses. The horse huffed softly, uninterested in the nervous child before it.
"It won't. Just hold out the carrot." Bernice said, guiding his hand towards the horse's mouth, carrot first. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, before opening one just to see.
The horse lowered its brown muzzle to the carrot. It pulled its black lips back to reveal massive, blocky white teeth before gripping the carrot. Alfred yanked away his hand, letting go of the carrot as if it had burned him. He jumped back, letting the horse enjoy its snack. Bernice laughed as she fed the other horse, a tempermental grey, its own treat.
"Sweetroll won't bite you, but Dusty will." She said, watching the boy jump back fearfully again.
"Alright, that's enough scaring the lad." Philip said, unable to refrain from grinning himself. He glanced back to see Master Logarius staring away from the scene through the curving wrought iron gates, towards the workshop. He pushed it open with a smooth motion, gesturing for Philip and Alfred to follow.
"Philip will show you around. Of course, a change of clothes and a bath will be in order." Logarius said as they walked up the steps. Alfred touched his face unconsciously, feeling the powdery dried blood still remaining. In all the excitement, he had totally forgotten he was covered in sticky, dried blood!
The workshop was more of a large, stately house. The steps that lead up the hill it was situated on were old and worn, flanked by flowering white plants. A tower completed the gothic, pointy skyline of the roof, the eaves home to several snarling gargoyles.
The windows were lit, and as Alfred drew close, he could make out several faces peering down at them both. The moment Logarius looked up, the watchers fled from the window, shutting the curtains.
"They are just excited to meet you, that's all." Philip said, patting his shoulder. Alfred looked up at him in wonder. So many people, excited to meet him? Unthinkable. The ceremony was populated only out of formality. What had he done that was exciting?
"Why would they want to see me?" Alfred asked. Logarius chuckled, ahead of him.
"They wish to meet the newest member of their family, that's why." He said, stepping over the threshold, which was emblazoned with a triangle shape with a sleepy, yet watchful eye in the center, intersected by rays,
The next few hours were a blur for Alfred. He had been immediately swarmed by blue robed Executioners the moment he entered the Workshop, the youngest there surrounding him first.
"'You ready to crack some vileblood skulls?"
"Alright! I'm not the youngest anymore!"
"Woah, is that blood? Hardcore!"
Logarius shooed them away with a wave of his long arm. Several of the older Executioners, some around Philip and Bernice's age began to herd the gaggle of novices out of the room.
"Give the boy some space. Due to special circumstances, he will be in the single room tonight." The Pthumerian announced, ducking to avoid the chandelier that hung on ceiling in the center of the room.
"Awh, I wanted a bunkmate!"
"Not fair, we have to listen to Tonio snore!"
"I don't snore!"
"Yes you do!"
Logarius sighed as the dozen novices were finally led out.
"It's a lively place. Each class takes on twelve novices, around the age of fourteen every five years. That was the third class. Bernice and Philip were in the first, the oldest and youngest class members, respectively. How old are you, child?" He asked, looking down at Alfred.
"I...I don't know." he said, worrying at the hem of his sleeve. Philip frowned, concerned.
"How do you not know?" He asked, before being silenced by Logarius.
"The doctors said I was so feverish, that I forgot almost everything." Alfred mumbled, picking a thread loose. "From how sick I was, I mean."
Philp could heard Logarius's teeth starting to grind.
"Philip, show the boy where to get clean." Logarius said with eerie calmness. "Then come back to see me, please."
Philip entered the Master's study, already bracing himself for the tidal wave of righteous fury. The Pthumerian sat at his massive desk, scribbling furiously.
Philip sat in one of the human sized chairs provided, glancing over the ancient tapestries on the high walls, and the massive, ornately decorated wheel that sat beside the desk. The Logarius wheel prototype was Pthumerian sized, but he had never seen Logarius wield it, instead favoring a massive scythe and mysterious blood magic.
"So. Laurence has not only given me a mere child for a Blood Saint, but a sickly one with amnesia. What game is he playing?" The Pthumerian hissed, stabbing the paper with his quill.
"Do you dislike him?" Philip asked, concerned. Logarius barked a harsh laugh.
"Dislike him? Not at all. The boy is ridiculously likable. Under any other circumstances, I would have loved to train him as an executioner. He's bright, friendly, and polite. Protege material, but of course, your position is not in any danger."
"I never felt threatened, sir." Philip said.
"What are we to do? Wait? Is this a trick, some kind of trap?" Logarius crumpled the paper in his spidery hands, tossing it to the side.
"Laurence would not saint someone who could pass their sickness through blood, would he? Why one so young? Surely, they could have spared another." The Pthumerian looked sharply at Philip.
"Laurence wishes to sicken us all. He has the Vilebloods right where he wants them. He wishes to use our deaths as a bargaining tool with Cainhurst." He growled.
"I doubt that. There was only a lack of Blood Saints, and carelessness on the Vicar's behalf." Philip said. He had become adept at calming his mentor when the man went into paranoid moods. "Besides, the Vicar hates the Vilebloods as well. He would not turn on us like that."
"Of course. Mere incompetence from the Vicar, as expected." Logarius sat back in the seat, his rage disappearing as quickly as it had come. The atmosphere of the room instantly calmed.
"Thank you, Philip." Logarius heaved a tired sigh, staring up at the wood paneled ceiling as he continued. "Let's make the best of the situation. Alfred is not a viable blood saint yet, but he will be, and he's a good lad. We will let him train with the rest of the third class, as you wished."
Philip smiled.
"He will be able to make friends, and become a true executioner."
Logarous steepled his long fingers, looking down at Philip.
"As a Blood Saint, he cannot be an Executioner. We meet Corruption head on. He will only have his blood spoilt."
"You saw how eager he was in the carriage, Sir. Let him be with the others, for the time before stepping firmly into the duties of a saint."
The room was small but tidy. The ceilings were edged with elegant plaster moldings, and the floor was a rich, dark wood that did not squeak when trodden upon. The best part of all was that the blankets were thick and woolen. Alfred had wrapped himself in a cocoon, enjoying the softness of the blankets and the new robes he had been given, despite them being a tad too big.
Philip had guided him around the place, showing the workshop, the gleaming hunting tools, the barracks, the library, something that had greatly excited the boy, seeing so many stacked books.
Everyone who had greeted him had been so kind, congratulating him on joining the Executioners and helping show him around. The communal dinner had the best meal that Alfred could remember, far better then eating tastelessly prepared hospital food alone. It had named meat, vegetables that were not a mysterious mash, and bread, actual bread! It was as if he had fallen into one of his beloved novels, into a feast where heros congregated to eat and enjoy each other's company.
He smiled as he drifted into sleep. He was no longer cooped up in a miserable room, unable to go outside to speak with others, and the threats of needles, medications, and cruel Choir members was far away. Before he finally drifted off, he opened his fist to look at Amelia's handkerchief. While getting ready for the bath, he had found it stuffed into his pocket, and had held it close ever since. It was a lovely white bit of cloth, embroidered with a large A, only slightly marred by the pink stains from his attempt to clean off the blood earlier.
"I'll see you again soon. I'll tell you everything!" He whispered, before drifting off.
-Present Day-
Quincy stumbled through the woods, blinded by his own thoughts. That thing on the lake, that monster, what was it? He had bid Alfred goodbye, only to find a key to the balcony overlooking the lake. Desperate for any clue to end the nightmare he had been thrust into, Quincy had stepped out of musty, abandoned Bergynwerth to find that the place was not completely devoid of life after he and Alfred cut through the twisted flies, mad scholars, and celestial monsters.
The melted, pale corpse of a man rocked back and forth on an oversized rocking chair, muttering soundlessly. His chin and lips gleamed with an unnatural, swollen and pockmarked sheen, the only features visible under his bugeyed, ornate blindfold. Fungus-like growths sprouted from his collar and the back of his skull, undulating in the pale moonlight. As Quincy carefully approached the figure, his boots clicking on the old stone balcony, a raspy groan emanated from the rocking corpse.
"Ahhhh…ahhh." It rasped, pointing a white robed arm towards the lake, angling a decorated golden scepter, topped with artificial sprouting branches and jeweled leaves. It was too beautiful of an object to be clutched in the hand of such a disgusting creature.
"Are you in need of any help there, sir?" Quincy tried, his usual jovial voice shaking as he spoke.
"Ahhh...ah…" Was all the man said in response, desperately pointing his scepter, tightly clutched in a swollen, bleached hand. Up close, Quincy realized the man looked like a drowned corpse, swollen and paled. A hideous scent emanated from the wheezing, pointing body, making Quincy cough. It was reminiscent of the mummified man in the guard tower, a dead man directing him forward.
Curiosity piqued by the morbid sight, Quincy stepped forward. He peered over the stone landing into the lake, seeing the swirling fog lit by the swollen moon in the cloudy sky above. He turned back to see the corpse once again frantically pointing his staff.
"I ain't about to drown myself too, pal." Quincy said, not expecting a reply as he gazed down at the lake. The depths of the water below seemed to dance before his eyes. The fog was clearing, revealing a beautiful, otherworldly lake below. The stars in the sky, covered by clouds above, shone in the lake's water, embraced by swirling clouds of nebula, brilliant purples, blues, and magenta. It was as if the Cosmos had found a new home in the lake's waters.
Take a step forward.
Quincy leaned farther, entranced. The stars floated in the water, nearly blinding him with their brilliance. More than anything, Quincy wanted to join them.
You wish for it, too? Ascension?
The cosmos churned below, shining beautifully.
It's a wonderful feeling. To become so full of knowledge, to become so empty.
Stars danced in his vision. He could hear an ethereal humming, a gentle rhythm, a perfect, ancient beat.
Plip, plop. Plip. plop.
Won't you join us? Hear it, the ocean's song, the lullaby of the gods?
Quincy took a step forward, and plunged into the lake. He screamed, his mind having just then returned from the seductive call.
Branches caught at Quincy's clothing as he continued to run . He had completely lost control back then, entranced by the siren song. When he had plunged forwards, he had braced himself, expecting to hit water hard, to be drowned, but instead he had landed, catlike, on the lake's surface as if it was a giant glassy sheet.
There, in the fog, he had seen it.
Quincy had found notes about a Berygenwerth spider, but nothing about this thing was even vaguely spiderlike. It's head was massive and lumpy, pitted with holes. A tiny circular mouth opened and closed uselessly, ringed with irregular teeth. The lumpy, heavy head was attached to a body like a swollen caterpillar, lumpy and irregular, the topside covered in moss and gleaming white flowers, supported by countless scuttling legs. Several long tails sprouted from it's rear, wagging slowly. Tiny, empty eyes gleamed from the many pits in the monster's skull.
What emotion overtook him, fear, rage, disgust at the fact such a thing existed, Quincy could not say. He was a Hunter now, and no doubt such a monster had to do with the beasts, the living waxwork corpse on the landing, the endless night. So he had sprung forward, slashing at the monster with his axe.
The monster spawned. Hideous, smaller versions of it appeared, scuttling, speedy creatures with the heads of their repulsive mother surrounded him.
It had taken many tries, but a Hunter got as many chances as they could stand. Finally, the monster collapsed under his rain of blows, vanishing along with it's hideous progeny. Quincy looked to the sky in triumph. Would the night end now? He had followed all the clues. A new day would dawn, he would be able to go home to his family and leave this terrible, backwards place behind. His mysterious, painful disease had been cured, he had faced evil and come out on top, having his own adventure, harrowing as it was.
He would miss Alfred of course, The Doll, too, and the mysterious Hunter, Eileen, but he treasured having met them both.
All of Quincy's hopeful thoughts vanished the second he looked upwards. The moon had not vanished. It had not set.
It had become more massive, reddened, as if dyed in the blood of the monster he had just slain. A wretched sob reached his ears. He turned to see a woman in a white wedding dress, stained with blood, far out on the lake. She removed her veil, and looked back at him with black, sunken eyes set in a corpse-like face, her hands locked in chains.
How Quincy had ended up back in the woods was a mystery. After meeting the corpse-woman's gaze he had run, and now here he was, his ragged lungs on fire as he thrashed through the brush and trees. Finally, unable to take another step, he collapsed on the grass, wheezing. After laying face down in the dirt, the grass tickling his face, he rolled over, meeting the massive, red moon above.
"I've made a right mess of things." Quincy spoke aloud, breathing hard. He glared at the moon.
"Can't you just set? Day has to come after night. It's the natural order of things!" He groaned, straightening his hat on his head.
"Oh, gods. Look at me. Laying in the dirt, talking to the damn moon as if the thing can hear me." He stood up shakily, brushing himself off and taking a look around.
A once stately mansion lay behind him, it's wrought iron gates destroyed, gardens overgrown. Ivy crawled up the sides. The gargoyles that had once sat on the eaves were destroyed and headless, their faces laying cracked and abandoned in the yard, and the white flowers, much like those in the dream, had gone feral and dotted the landscape without any rhyme or reason, even going so far as to sprout in the house's gutters. A collapsed tower lay in the yard, rotting in the dirt.
For a brief moment, as Quincy looked up at the last intact window on the top floor, he thought he saw it alight for a brief moment, before dimming again. In front of all of it was a rotting carriage wheel, it's remaining spokes oddly gilded.
Quincy left it behind, trying to find his way back to Yharnam, or a lamp, or anything as he continued his fearful journey through the woods. He had no time to poke around an ancient, possibly haunted old house, completely unaware of the importance that it once held.
Notes -
So, we leave Amelia and Laurence behind and FINALLY get to the Executioners. Logarius is hard to write, you have to balance out the genocidal cult leader with him being decent enough to his men that he would inspire lifelong love and devotion, in Alfred at least. He still sucks, but he takes good care of his vampire murdering cult, at least. His motivations should become more clear soon, as well. Hint: what is the source of the Vileblood's blood? or should I say, WHO?
Also, Logarius is literally a fossil that Laurence dug up, and Laurence will NEVER let it go. Oh you want a REAL blood saint? Well if it wasn't for me, you'd still be below ground. Oh you want more funding? I freed you from your coffin, corpse boy! Your kingdom is dead! Nyah nya nah nah nah!
I swear we will get some Hunter/Alfred in the next chapter.
Oh yeah, this is the second time I've posted a 100% serious fic on April fools day. Hmm. I think my first fic ever was posted on April fools a year ago? Time flies. Anyway enjoy, stay inside, and please wash your hands, Covid-19 is no joke.