"Oedon has spoken to me. I am chosen to bear a new being, a child of the gods." The Queen said, her dark eyes shining with joy. She smiled down at his kneeling form, her white dress shining in the cold moonlight.
"A new era of prosperity will dawn for our faltering kingdom. We will be gifted with Oedon's own blood, his formless essence! Those who bear it shall be Oedon and mine own spiritual kin. Great Oedon has promised that I shall have the greatest gift of all, the blood that will grant everlasting life. Pthumeria shall never fall!"
"Come on Philip, I can take it! Just spar with me!"
Philip chuckled as Alfred got into a pugilistic stance, fists raised with a wide smile. Years had passed since the boy had come to the Executioners workshop, and Alfred had become one of the most devoted and earnest students. Over the last few years, he had shot up about two feet, threatening to become taller than Philip, something Philip was sure to happen rather soon at the rate the boy grew. Any trace of past illness or shyness had vanished completely since the time he had first arrived.
Despite being at least a year younger than the third class, Alfred had fit in well, making friends and eagerly befriending those in the upper classes. It was easy for Alfred to make friends among the executioners, with a kind, boyish face and a sunny disposition.
Philip had become his best friend, despite the gap of years between them. Philip saw Alfred as a younger brother to support and protect, an opinion shared by most of the upperclassmen, but he was the one Alfred had come to trust the most, so having the boy trying to goad him into play fighting on the Workshop's lawn was not an unfamiliar sight.
Philip was the one who Alfred would come to first about any problems or joys, excitedly showing him the first hint of stubble on his face or venting miserably when refused an Executioner's robe once again, instead given a white Monk's robe due to his position.
"That's not really fair, is it? I'll be in trouble if I punch out the Blood Saint." Philip said, smiling as he leaned back against the shaded tree. Alfred frowned, but refused to break out of his stance.
"You'll have to hit me first. I doubt you can! I am far too fast!"
"Perhaps fast in being first to dinner, but not in dodging punches. Do not forget I'm older, and have more experience in the Executioner's traditional hand to hand. "
"I have the advantage of youth! Have at me, old man!" Alfred bragged, dodging an imagined blow.
"Old man? I'm not even twenty-three yet!" Philip laughed.
"And yet here you are, refusing to fight me!" Alfred exclaimed, practically dancing in place with excitement. "Are you scared I'll trounce you like I did to Nathan?"
"Nathan gave up after you got one hit in!" Philip laughed. "Alright, alright. Don't make it a big deal if any of my blows connect." Philp said, pushing himself off the oak.
The two boys carefully aligned themselves on the grassy lawn, circling each other, Alfred grinning, Philp serious. As expected, Alfred charged first, woefully telegraphing his planned blow. Philip smiled. The boy probably thought he had the upper hand in rapidly attacking.
Philip carefully dodged back, aiming a punch of his own for Alfred's cheek. Nothing that would cause much damage, a love tap, really. He wanted his brother to learn that he needed to be more careful in battle.
Of course Alfred immediately charged again, turning and accidently ramming his face nose first into Philip's fist as he aimed the blow. Philip looked down in horror as Alfred fell to the dirt, clutching his bloody nose.
"Besht out of tree, den." Alfred said cheerfully, trying to stem the blood flow on his white sleeve. Philip sighed, shaking his head.
"Master Logarius is going to kill me. Let's get you to the Doc."
"We did not even have hand to hand training today, boy. How did you manage to get hurt?" Doctor Camilla groaned. Philip opened his mouth to explain before Alfred cut him off from his position on the wooden examination table.
"I asked Philip to spar for practice. It's my fault I got hurt." He explained, holding cotton to his nostrils. The doctor sighed tiredly, pinching the ridge of her crooked, Yharnamite nose.
"Alfred, you know you are not to become an Executioner. A Blood Saint has no need to learn combat."
"But Doctor Camilla,-" Alfred started. Philip winced, looking away. Philip regretted convincing Logarius to allow Alfred to train as if he was to become an Executioner. The poor boy now desired to be an Executioner more than anything in the world, something he could never achieve.
"There is no arguing this. You were blessed with Sainted Blood, and you are to share your gift with others. Next month, you will begin giving Blood Ministrations for the first time."
Alfred looked down at his scuffed boots sadly. Philip's heart twinged.
"It's a very important duty. You will be helping the Church and the Executioners greatly." Doctor Camilla added. Alfred slid off the table defeatedly.
"I will get to continue my studies and training, yes?" he asked tentatively. The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
"Will you even have time?" She said, incredulously. Alfred hung his head, moving to exit the clinic.
"One last thing, Alfred." The boy looked back at her.
"Don't waste your sacred blood on sparring. There are far more important things for it then to dribble down your face after being socked one" Camilla said coldly. Ashamed, Alfred sprinted out the door.
Philip nodded to the doctor, following his friend. They walked along the wood panelled hallway in silence, the grey light from the windows casting weak shadows.
"Have I been lax in my studies, Philip?" Alfred asked, breaking the silence. Philip shook his head.
"Alfred, it's not that."
"I understand the importance of my position, but I cannot just do nothing while the Vilebloods still exist!" He exclaimed. "Their wickedness must be stopped!"
"You won't be doing nothing. You will be providing healing blood." Philip reassured. Alfred pursed his lips, looking away. Philip watched as the boy pretended to be very interested in the red smudge on his sleeve.
"No need to pout."
"I am hardly pouting!"
"Yes you are."
"I am not!" Alfred said, with finality, turning to Philip with which was definitely a pout. Inspiration suddenly flashed in his eyes.
"Perhaps I can talk to Master Logarius. Sure, he would understand my determination!" He said, looking at Philip hopefully.
"I don't know…" Philip said slowly as Alfred continued blithely.
"He congratulated me when we first tried the Holy Wheels. He said I was a natural at it! Before that, I was only a natural blonde, but now I'm a natural at the Logarius wheel, too!"
"As opposed to an unnatural one…?" Philip asked, confused by Alfred's train of thought and speech's usual slow derailment. His brother's mind seemed to be an ocean of water with only a pinhole to drain it at times.
"Anyway, he knows I'm skilled, and determined, am I not?"
"Well, yes, you have enthusiasm, and talent." Philip conceded.
"So surely, my sainted blood is only a bonus to being a talented and necessary executioner, yes? So I can still fight evil head on?" Alfred asked. Philip frowned uncomfortably.
"Alfred. Contact with a vileblood will destroy your holy blood." Philip said slowly. As expected, his brother's face immediately fell.
"Surely that cannot be the case?"
"Logarius said so himself." Philip said.
"...That cannot be right. As long as I do not ingest their rotten blood, surely I can be an Executioner and blood saint." Alfred argued, desperation coming into his voice. "I'll just be careful, yes? The holy Ardeo blocks the face! Master Logarius would not make such a mistake."
Philip sighed, defeated. "You can ask him yourself when he returns from Cathedral Ward." Alfred perked up.
"Oh! It's been five years, Philip! We will be getting a new class of Executioners soon!"
"You are just happy that you won't be the youngest anymore." Philip chuckled, elbowing Alfred in the ribs.
"Shame on you, brother! Breaking my nose, now attacking me in broad daylight!" Alfred gasped in fake shock.
"Breaking your nose? Hah! Besides, it's hardly my fault, that beak is unavoidable!"
"Take that back, scoundrel!"
Unaware of Philip and Alfred's youthful shenanigans, Logarius swept into the Workshop like a stormcloud, robes billowing as he angrily swept down the hall.
"Dunno what we are going to tell them." Bernice said, following the brooding Pthumerian like a fish in a boat's wake. Her square jaw was set in a similarly grim expression, and she wished desperately that Philip, instead of herself, had accompanied Logarius on the trip to the Cathedral Ward this time.
"Laurence, you bloody fool. What were you thinking?" Logarius hissed under his breath.
Bernice was certain that it was just a simple visit for budget or Logarius traveling there due to some request for some foolish ceremony of Laurence's. What she had hoped would be a nice break from the woods to flirt with the Cathedral's nuns and impress some of the new Hunters with her combat talent had instead turned into a real mess of things.
"Again, Master, what should we tell the others? How do you explain the damn Vicar, head of the Church, torched Old Yharnam, a place several of the lads 'n lasses are from, had some of the hunters murder any folks that rushed out of the flames, then turned into a fuckin' beast himself! How are we going to have a Fourth class now?"
"Like that, I suppose." Logarius rumbled. "With less colorful language, Bernice. This is not a Hemwick Alehouse. I will consider the possibility of posponing the induction of a Fourth Class." Bernice grunted, rolling her eyes the moment Logarius turned back.
"It is a fortune that the other two Executioners from Old Yharnam are absent. I will speak with the boy from old Yharnam in private. Colin will need support." Bernice frowned. She was unsure if Logarius would be the best to comfort a grieving adolescent after he delivered the news. Colin was the second youngest in the third class, a cheerful, loyal boy.
"Why the hell did he do it, Master? There were beasts appearing around old Yharnam, yeah, but gods! Burning down part of the city and murdering good, blood fearing folks who probably were not even infected! Hunters hunt beasts, not humans!"
"Laurence was a fool. His skull will remain in the Cathedral as a warning to all those who worship there that the blood is to be respected, and feared. The beasts need to be cut down at the source, and the source is certainly Cainhurst."
"Did Ludwig have a part in it?" Bernice asked. Logarius paused.
"Ludwig vanished whilst hunting Beasts with his Holy Blades near Yhar'gul a moon before."
"Master-do you think-" Bernice started. Everyone knew that Mensis had turned to kidnapping. It was an open secret, one that was tolerated because their work was valuable for ascension. What the twisted, caged scholars did to their victims was unknown, but some experiment of theirs called for an excess of bodies. Bernice wished that Laurence had burned their Yhar'gul headquarters to the ground instead.
"Mensis would have to be stupid to take a man so important to the healing Church. He most likely fell in battle, or succumbed to the scourge himself." Logarius snorted. "What a pity. Ludwig was a good man."
"'Suppose Amelia will lead the church now. What a gaffe! She's practically still a girl herself!"
"It's no matter. As long as we continue to receive the Church's support, it does not matter who is at the helm." Logarius said firmly.
Both stopped when laughter was heard down the hall. Logarius and Bernice peered around the corner.
"Philip 'n Alfred chasing each other about. Aren't we supposed to be disciplined Holy warriors, Master?" Bernice said, scowling. Logarius turned to Bernice, shaking his head with a thin smile.
"They are still boys. There is no class on Sundays, and both excel in studies and training. Let them have fun."
"You'd scold them if they saw you, Master."
"Indeed I would." Logarius drew himself back up. "I will announce the news at dinner. Keep a close eye on anyone from Yharnam in the next few days. Chances are there could be extended families that were hurt or killed in the catastrophe. They will need support from us all."
At dinner, Alfred had spent the whole meal trying to catch Logarius's attention. Quite a difficult task usually, but as he sat next to Philip, who himself sat next to the Pthumerian, he should have the advantage of proximity. Philip nudged his leg under the table.
"Stop that. He's not going to talk to you at dinner." He whispered.
"It's worth a try, yes? Master Logarius speaks to us all during this time!" Alfred whispered back.
"Just eat, you can try to bother him later." Philip replied, shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth to show he was done talking. Bernice quirked a brow at him from the other side of the table.
"Bother! I never bother!" Alfred grumbled, going back to his food. Most of the first class of executioners were absent, sent off to investigate stories of Vileblood Activity, some stationed around Hemwick castle to assure that the Cainhurst Knights and Nobility were staying inside their wretched castle. The table, able to sit nearly four dozen due to its length, was only slightly over halfway full. It would have made sense to Alfred for them to have several tables instead of one, but Logarius most certainly had a reason for it.
Alfred glanced back up at Logarius, certain that Philip was not watching. The Pthumerian's face was gloomier than usual, his dark eyes and gaunt face darkly shaded by his heavy brow. He looked back down at his plate, realizing that maybe this was not the best time to speak to the Master.
Logarius rose from his seat with a rustle of golden robes and a clink of pendants, his face lined with concern. Every head immediately turned to face him, Alfred and Philip stopping eating mid chew.
"I am certain that many of you are excited for the induction of the next Class of Executioners."
An excited chatter rose over the table. Logarius pursed his lips, the expression of a man deeply burdened with bad news.
"I am afraid I will disappoint. The Fourth class will be postponed due to dire circumstances in Yharnam."
A disappointed groan emerged from the seated Executioners.
"It would be difficult in the wake of chaos in the Church at the moment." Logarius paused, as if to give his students time to prepare.
"Vicar Laurence is Dead."
A soft murmur rose between the Executioners gathered. Alfred lowered his fork. Vicar Laurence had been old when he had met him, his face lined and his hair receding, but the Vicar did not seem like he was within a few years of death. Philip's brow was furrowed with concern.
"His chosen successor, Amelia, has already taken his place."
Alfred started at the name. Amelia! Memories flooded back to him at the sound of the name. He had promised that he would go back to see her almost five years ago, and he had forgotten! Would she even recognize him now? He was no longer the sickly, small for his age child he had been. He had grown, filled out, trained as an Executioner.
Alfred tried to imagine what Amelia would look like now. She had been slightly taller than him, the runt he was back then, but now he was five foot ten. He wondered if she would still have the one inch advantage.
Had she been waiting to see him again all these years? He stared intently at the remaining food on his plate, his ears with pink from shame. Why did he forget?
Logarius continued.
"I would like to see Colin after the meal, please." Alfred slumped. Well, there was certainly no way he would be able to speak to Logarius now. He glanced at Colin down the table, wondering what he did to get Logarius attention. The boy looked somewhere between excited and terrified. A private audience with master Logarius was something to be envied-or feared.
News traveled fast among the Executioners, and soon the events that Logarius had glossed over were pieced together over the next few days.
Old Yharnam had been set ablaze by Vicar Laurence! The reason, often repeated in letters from the families of the Executioners who still wrote home, was that Old Yharnam was full of Beasts, and there was nothing to be done other than destroy that district of the city.
But soon, more disturbing details emerged.
The Hunters, once noble warriors organized by Old Gherman and Ludwig, had been ordered by Laurence to stand outside Old Yharnam to kill any survivors fleeing the flames! Stories ranged from reassurance that some survivors had been able to escape to chilling reports of none being left alive or spared.
The biggest mystery was how the Vicar had died. Some claimed that he had been there when Old Yharnam was lit on fire, a few claiming he had lit the flame himself, only to be consumed by it in an act of divine retribution. There were tales that an old Yharnamite killed him in revenge before being slain by a hunter himself.
The most outlandish rumor was that the Vicar had turned into a Beast himself, and was dispatched by the Hunters upon returning to the Cathedral. The younger Executioners in the third class had hounded Bernice for more information, as they knew she had left to Yharnam with Logarius, only to be met with stony silence.
Finally, the rumor was proven true. The skull of a Beast was displayed in the Cathedral of the Church as Vicar Amelia gave her first sermon on the danger of the Blood. Communion was given with a warning.
"Let us partake in Communion, but fear the frailty of man, and know ye, for the skull is that of the First Vicar."
The news that Beasts were once humans may have gravely shaken the church, but it did not surprise any Executioner. Vilebloods were once human as well. The fact that the Vicar, the founder of the Healing church could succumb, however, came as a shock.
After hearing about the destruction of Old Yharnam, the Executioners had rallied around Collin. The poor boy had lost his family and his home, but he still had family in the Executioners.
Alfred had spent many nights after thinking about what Amelia. Any news and letters said that she had taken over as a Vicar, but a member of the congregation would hardly know any personal details.
Leaving the Executioner's workshop was nearly impossible, something he had not realized as a child. It was far in the woods, and making the journey back to Yharnam on foot would be far too dangerous.
Would it have been possible for him to write to her? No, he did not have her address. The Handkerchief he had as a momento had been lost to childish irresponsibility. As of now, the friendship that Alfred and Amelia had shared seemed impossible to repair.
"Did you see the wreckage?" Philip asked. Bernice grunted, refusing to look away from the window. Spring rain fell gently outside, muffled by the quiet murmur of a nearby class of Executioners learning History from Logarius himself.
"We did not leave the Ward, but we could still see the smoke rising from Old Yharnam." Bernice said grimly.
"Gods. It's all the boys want to talk about in the dormitories. Not around Colin, of course, but…" Philip sighed, standing next to her. The garden was beginning to bloom, the bushes under the window sprinkled with purple buds.
"The girls too." Bernice responded. The two stood in silence, watching the rain fall. The trees wavered in the gentle wind, bright green leaves beginning to sprout from the branches.
"It was evil, what the Vicar did." Philip said, tracing the path of a raindrop down the pane.
Bernice only nodded.
"It does give me doubts." Philip continued.
"Why?"
"Our mission is linked to the Church. If the Church is able to commit such evil-" Philip began, only to be silenced by Bernice's icy look.
"Speak to Master Logarius if you have doubts. Not I."' Bernice said sharply. "The Church lacks our guidance and vision. We keep evil contained in Cainhurst. We do not kill innocents without thought."
"Of course." Philip said softly. They returned to gazing out the window at the rain.
The unspoken question, 'Will that always be so?' hung in the air, turning in Philip's mind.
Alfred had tried to wait patiently to speak to Logarius. He knew that the man was very busy, and imposing his own problems on the man after the tragedy that had taken place in Old Yharnam seemed a selfish thing to do. There had been times where he had stood before the Master's office door for a good while, trying desperately to summon the patience to knock.
An opportunity finally arose during a history class on a rainy day. Alfred nervously bounced his leg under the old wooden desk, attempting to listen to Logarius's lecture. The Pthumerian's stories of the past usually captivated him, but today he was far too anxious about trying to speak to Logarius.
Thankfully, Alfred was already familiar with the material that Logarius was going over. He had read the texts on the history of the Executioner's many times. He could practically recite them by heart! Of course, he would be a dutiful student and take notes anyway. It was rare that Logarius had the time to give his Executioners a personal history lesson!
Logarius steadied the podium before him, crudely modified to be usable for a giant pthumerian.
"The Vilebloods, or the Cainhurst Royal family, came from the far west as part of the entourage of a Princess of the Sun, and her husband, a god of flame, so the legends state. The Vilebloods to be, already traitorous, defected from the Goddess's party, and traveled to the Eastern Shore- to the land called Pthumeria." Logarius paused, scanning the faces of his students. Seeing some confusion on his pupil's faces, he sighed.
"What is Pthumeria called now?"
Alfred's hand shot up. Logarius gave the rest of the class the courtesy of looking around.
"Alfred again, I suppose." Logarius nodded to him.
"It is called Yharnam today, sir!"
"Correct. Back then, The place you know as Yharnam was ruled by Pthumerians, much like myself. My people were blessed by the gods, and lived in a kingdom that rivaled that of the ancient dynasty of the Western Continent."
"The Cainhurst Nobility were the first humans to arrive on the Continent, your own descendants coming much later from the Western Continent after the Smothering, where the world was briefly plunged into bitter darkness, but I am once again getting ahead of myself." Logarius stroked his long beard, lost in thought.
"The Cainhurst Nobility allied themselves with the Pthumerian nobility, and were gifted with their own castle-Cainhurst, named after their first king, Cain. Each male ruler since has taken on the same name." Logarius's voice oozed contempt as he spoke.
"Of course, the Pthumerian nobles found that they had made fickle allies. When Pthumeria fell into decline, Cainhurst found themselves at an advantage, and hastened their fall by turning their back on the Royal family, and aiding the rebellions that sought to dethrone the last Queen." Logarious looked down at the students. Alfred struggled to tell what emotion the man was feeling. There was righteous fury in the Pthumerian's eyes, yes, but did he also see...hurt?
"The history of Cainhurst is that of backstabbing and betrayal. It was no surprise that in their misguided pursuit of power, they would imbibe the corrupted blood." The disgust in Logarius's voice rose, the room suddenly feeling close and constrictive as he went on. "They watched idly and celebrated when old Pthumeria crumbled and was entombed deep in the Earth, leaving us intombed to rot!"
Logarius's last sentence ended like a roar, several of the third class looking a bit surprised at the outburst. Alfred started from his notes, nearly spilling his ink. Logarius calmed, his expression returning to placidity.
"Forgive me. This history is quite personal to myself, even if what I tell you is but a mere summary of the long and treacherous history of Cainhurst. Now, can any of you tell me what event made the creation of the executioners possible?"
Logarius swept his gaze over the room, sighing when he saw only a single hand rise.
"Anyone other than Alfred? I am unsure if you are all shy, or completely unaware of any of our History." Logarius's tone was that of a disappointed parent. Alfred lowered his hand, feeling smug before another hand raised towards the back.
"Ah, Collin. What event led to the creation of the Executioners?"
Collin lowered his hand, swallowing nervously.
"The founding of Yharnam?" He asked. Logarius smiled.
"Yes, humans coming to the remains of Pthumeria and founding the city of Yharnam made opposing the Vilebloods possible, as well as the Byrgenwerth Scholars unearthing the Pthumerian tombs and created the healing church." Logarous paused, looking over the students at the old clock at the back of the classroom.
"I believe we are out of time. Well, that should serve as a good summary. That concludes today's lesson."
With class over, Alfred finally had his chance to catch the ear of Logarius before the man vanished back into his impenetrable office. Gently pushing past his classmates, Alfred half ran after the tall, golden robed figure.
"Um, Sir!?" Alfred called, racing after Logarius. Long legs meant long strides, and despite having grown, there was no way Alfred would ever be able to keep up with the ceiling scraping height of a Pthumerian.
"Yes, Alfred?" Logarius stopped and turned with a dramatic golden swirl of robes and pendants. Alfred looked back down at the wooden floor shyly, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve.
"Sir, I just wanted-I just wanted to ask-The Doctor told me that I am to start giving blood soon, and forsake my Executioner training."
"Yes." Logarius said simply.
"But sir, I…"Alfred forced himself to look up. "I truly, truly wish to be an Executioner!"
"I'm afraid that's not possible, my boy." Logarius said, turning once again to leave.
"Please sir! I want to fight evil head on!" Alfred followed, taking three steps for everyone of Logarius's long strides,
"Out of the question."
"Sir, you said I was talented at your wheel! At training! I'm one of the best in the third class, despite being the youngest!" Alfred pleaded.
"You were trained at Philip's bequest, Alfred. I wanted to have you only study as a Blood Saint." Logarius said, not even looking down.
"There's no way that being a Blood Saint should block me from being an Executioner!"
Logarius stopped, staring straight ahead.
"How do we kill Vilebloods, Alfred?"
Alfred puffed out his chest. Surely he was changing Logarius's mind to be asked such a question.
"We purify them by righteously beating them to destruction with the Logarius wheel, whilst wearing the Ardeo, the beacon of radiance." Reciting this was easy. No one studied harder at History and the Executioner's ways then he!
"During this purifying pulverization, what happens?" Logarius asked. Alfred faltered, feeling that he had somehow fallen into a trap.
"During the holy process, the blood and viscera spreads, but even the depths of foulness cannot dull our Radiance." Alfred said, confused.
"Yes. But it can corrupt blessed Blood." Logarius turned, his lined face solemn. "You are a good boy, Alfred. Very earnest, well read, and quite skilled in our ways. But Oedon has chosen you to bear the holy Medium of Blood. Your burden is to share your gift with others." He placed a large hand on Alfred's white robed shoulder as the boy slumped.
"You are a Blood Saint. Not an Executioner. One drop of their rotten blood will spoil your blood and taint you beyond salvation. Executioners fight up close, hand to hand in the midst of corruption. That is not a place for someone who is Sainted."
Alfred felt his eyes begin to burn. No! He could not cry. What reasons did he have to cry? He did not loose his family in a terrible fire, like Collin did! He was healthy, part of the Executioner's family! He could not weep in front of Master Logarius after trying to convince him he could be an executioner! Still, hot, traitorous tears began to roll down his cheeks. Alfred took out his handkerchief, withholding a sniffle. Crying infront of his master! How humiliating.
For a moment, Logarius looked unsure of what to do.
"There there, lad. You are still a member of our family here. You have a very important role. Dry those eyes, now." Alfred nodded, dabbing his own tears away. Oh, what an oaf he was. Forgetting about Amelia, failing to be made an Executioner, and now openly crying infront of his mentor.
"Go on, now." Logarius said slowly, directing him down the hall with a gentle touch of the shoulder. Alfred nodded again, trying to keep his eyes dry as he slowly walked off. Logarius stood alone in the hallway as the boy ran off, watching him go.
"Making foolish little boys cry, are we?" A voice came. The gaslights down the hall flickered to life. Logarius realized that the whole discussion had taken place in front of infirmary.
"Doctor Camilla."
"Well, someone had to break it through to him. I tried, but of course he'd only listen to you." Camilla appeared from a doorway, arms folded. "Typical stubborn Teenager. He's about fifteen, right?"
"Hardly what you'd call a little boy, Doctor." Logarius said, conspicuously looming above her.
"Yeah, yeah. What do you care? He's nearly six feet and still not even half your size."
"That is not what I meant."
"Whatever." Camilla waved her hand. "We'll start takin' blood next month then."
"Of course." Logarius said plainly.
"Doesn't it weigh on you...just a little?" Camilla asked slowly.
"What do you mean, Doctor?"
"Oh, you know, taking blood from a mere boy to fuel your Vileblood killing machine. You are pretty good at the kindly father act, but that doesn't erase the reality that you are still going to be harvesting his blood. Or that you tenderly comforted poor Colin about his parents death while still planning to lead him and the rest to death in battle"
Logarius clenched a skeletal fist.
"You border on Blasphemy, Doctor." Logarius rumbled.
"Oh, Blasphemy? The scripture written by a murderer turned monster. If you ask me, the Vicar was a Beast long before he turned."
"I also agree that the Vicar was wicked and misguided, Doctor." Logarius's voice was low and dangerous. "Accusations of leading my charges to death, I cannot abide."
"Accusations? You plan a campaign of Genocide against a bunch of foppish Nobles who take the wrong blood, followed by 'Soldiers' you brainwashed as children. Two peas in a pod, you and Laurence."
Faster than she could blink, Logarius's arm shot upwards. Clutching the doorframe above her head, he crushed it in his grip, showering them both in chunks of wood and plaster.
Camilla breathed hard, not letting herself be intimidated.
"Think, 'Master' Logarius. What will the church do if something happens to one of their doctors. I can be excused for having doubts. You can't be excused for murder." Logarius did not move a muscle, staring at her with wild, dark eyes. Camilla thought of lizards, the prehistoric types that lacked eyelids or even the need to blink. Contemporaries of the living fossil before her, possibly.
Logarius slowly retracted his grip on the doorframe, causing a second burst of dust and wood.
"I won't be able to close the door to my clinic now."
"Set up a curtain." Logarius snarled, striding off.
Crickets chirped in the night. Soon, the peaceful nocturnal symphony would be drowned out by the infernal buzz of cicadas in about a month's time. Alfred gazed upwards, unable to see the ceiling in the darkened dormitory room.
"Did you talk to Master Logarius yet?" The Dorms for men used double tiered beds to take advantage of the space. Alfred had requested Philip as his bunkmate specifically, at the cost of Philip having to deal with many late night questions. This time, however, Philip was the one asking.
Alfred gave out a noncommittal grunt, pulling the sheets over his head.
"That bad, huh?" Philip said, keeping his voice low. Six boys in a room meant many ears might be listening to their conversation, but the dorm room was quiet. "I guess he said no."
"I was stupid thinking otherwise." Alfred mumbled.
"You aren't stupid, Alfred." Philip reassured. "You were just very optimistic."
"I can't be an Executioner, ever." Alfred moaned. "I'm just a Blood Saint."
"You will be just as necessary, if not more to the cause!" Philip said, trying to cheer him up.
"I want to fight evil…not just sit there and provide blood."
"Hey. Alfred."A thump sounded as Philip left his bunk. Alfred poked his head out of the sheets to come face to face with a now standing Philip.
"What?"
"You are still my brother, no matter what."
"All the Executioners are yours and my brothers and sisters." Alfred argued.
"Well...you are extra my brother. Give me a hug."
Alfred slunk out of the sheets sulkily, but complied. Philip hugged him tightly, thumping him on the back.
"Ow." Alfred said sarcastically.
"Oh come on, that doesn't hurt. You took a punch to the nose a week ago."
Alfred grinned and thumped him back.
"Tryin' to sleep!" Came an irritated call across the room.
"Alright! Alright! Just providing some moral support over here." Philip shrugged, returning to his bunk.
"Goodnight!"
"Goodnight." came a chorus of five voices.
Philip laid back down, frowning at the bunk above. Hidden from the others, cracks of doubt were beginning to cross his mind.
Vicar Laurence torched Old Yharnam and the people within as well to destroy the Beasts. That act was evil.
Then...what did that make the act of killing Vilebloods? Of confining them to the castle, under fear and threat of death? WOuld the evil of the Church seep into the Executioners?
Or were the Executioners wrong all along?
"Hold still." Doctor Camilla commanded. Alfred stared at the plaster panelled ceiling, at the curtained window, at the water stain on the wall before him, trying to focus on anything other than what was happening to his left arm. He tried to hold still in the rather uncomfortable chair that had been provided.
"Clench your fist." Camilla commanded, arranging his arm on the cushioned arm of the chair. Alfred did so reluctantly.
"I'm having trouble finding a vein. You did not drink the suggested amount of water." Camilla reprimanded.
"I apologize...I forgot." He hissed softly as the tourniquet was placed with cold tightness around his bare arm.
"This is your duty now. You should never forget." The doctor said sharply. "Such small veins for a large boy." She chided. Alfred wondered what he was supposed to do about his vein size. Could he exercise them, like a muscle, or was Camilla complaining for the sake of complaining?
The cicadas were buzzing loudly outside. Alfred strained to hear the sounds of his fellow Executioners out on the lawn. Around this time he would usually be with them, and he dearly wished he was, instead of being stuck inside this stuffy room. The distant thumps of Logarius wheels hitting the grass and targets with accuracy was difficult to hear over the din of the insects.
"I'm going to stick you now."
He recalled the first time he had successfully transformed the wheel seconds before bringing it down perfectly on the target in the grass. Logarius had been proud of him, his classmates looking on in envy. Alfred smiled at the memory, then winced as at the pinch of the needle.
"There we go. You bleed well."
"Will we be done soon?" He asked impatiently. Camilla tutted.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Camilla asked coldly. Vials clattered as she replaced the full vial.
"I would like to join the class outside."
"Why? You are not an Executioner."
Alfred went silent, going back to staring at the ceiling. The Cicadas continued their tuneless buzz.
"There we go. That's it for now." Doctor Camilla slipped off the tourniquet. A wad of cotton was pressed to the site, secured on with a bandage.
Doctor Camilla held up two vials of blood for him to see, making Alfred blanch at the sight of the dark red liquid inside the glass. The idea that his own blood was taken to be shared as medicine made him feel cold despite the fact he had never questioned blood ministry when he was younger and needed it to cure his Ashen blood. Something about coming face to face with something that should be inside his body stolen…
No! What selfish thoughts! His family would need this blood for wounds and hurts! His blood belonged to the Church, and the Executioners. That was Oedon's gift! If anything, he should have given more!
"I daren't take more from a mere boy." Doctor Camilla said as if reading his thoughts, carefully stowing the vials away in a medical cabinet.
"I am not a mere boy!" Alfred argued. Camilla rolled her eyes.
"You'll have plenty of chances to give more later." She said, placing a few wafers in Alfred's upturned left hand.
"Eat those. It's so you can make more blood."
"I'm free to go?" Alfred asked, not even bothering to hide his excitement as he made to get up.
"Only if you eat those wafers. And sit back down, I won't have you passing out in my clinic."
Alfred grumbled as he complied. The wafers were not terrible, rather dry and crumbly, but very sweet. The second he finished, he sprung from the chair-only to have Camilla glare at him sternly.
"Take it easy."
"I feel fine. Why should I?" Alfred said, making a show of straightening his white robes. The day was hot, so he had gone without the Church's usual draped scarf and shawl.
"Because you can pass out from blood loss, fool." Camilla scolded, handing him a mug of tea before placing a jar beside it. Alfred wrinkled his nose. Hot tea on a warm day! He took a sip anyway, before quickly finding the sugar pot to add several lumps to sweeten it to his liking.
"Take that, go to your dorm, and don't you dare sneak out to practice throwing wheels around."
"Doctor! We do not just throw wheels around!" Alfred gasped, scandalized. "The sacred practice of the Logarius wheel is far more complex-"
"Just get out of my clinic. Practice days always end up with Executioners hurting themselves." Alfred huffed, trotting off with his usual boyish excitement. He pushed past the curtain, taking a moment to look at it with confusion before continuing on his way. Doctor Camilla took a seat, sighing. She removed a clay pipe from a drawer, filling it with tobacco.
"Poor little oaf." She muttered, lighting it.
"Did it hurt?" Philip asked. Alfred looked up from his book. His left sleeve was rolled up, revealing a purple bruise on his arm, a memento of his first blood giving session.
The Executioner's workshop's library was composed of a small room crammed tightly with shelves and one tiny desk. The Manse that was repurposed for the Executioners was not created with the idea of a library in mind, but Logarius had made due the best he could.
At least the uncovered window made the room seem cheery and cozy instead of cramped.
"Yes. T'was bitter agony." Alfred said straight faced, turning the page.
"Yeah right. How much did she take?"
"Oh, nearly a gallon."
"Right." Philip said, smiling.
"The needle was a foot long."
"Alfred."
"And this wide."
"Alfred." This time, exasperation was creeping into his brother's voice.
"Yes, Philip?" Alfred replied innocently.
"Seriously, were you alright with it?" Alfred looked up again, seeing the concern in Philip's face.
"Pardon my attempts at levity. Well, I hardly have a choice. I have Sainted Blood. I agreed to become a Blood Saint. It's my fate."
Philip leaned against the bookshelf, gazing out the window.
"It just doesn't feel right."
"Well, it is right. I'm helping my family." Alfred said, tracing the illustration on the page, a woodcut of the Logarius Wheel. "I miss training."
"How old were you when you agreed?" Philip asked. Alfred stopped, his finger frozen on the page.
"...It was a few days before I met you. Of course, I've never known how old I am."
"I'd say you are fifteen, at most, so you would have been ten. Who did you agree to become a Blood Saint to?"
"Vicar Laurence." Philip made a disgusted face.
"You met him? The arsonist murderer Vicar?"
"Well, he sainted me. I was very scared of him when we met, but I was afraid of everything, back then." Alfred looked down at the page, trying to lose himself in the woodcut illustration. "I was very sick."
"You've come a long way, brother." Philip placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders. "But asking a child to give their blood to the church…"
"It doesn't matter. I'm happy here. If my blood was not Sainted and I did not agree, I would have never met you, Master Logarius, Bernice, Collin, Nathan, and-" Alfred started, a cheerful look on his face.
Philip quickly stopped him. "Alfred, please don't list everyone you know."
"Oh, I was going to stop! I just have oodles of friends now, you know?"
"But are you happy?" Philip asked.
"I'm…" Alfred thought, concentrating. He was happy, right? Well, for the most part, but…
"I just wish...I just wish I could have a set of the Holy Robes."
"Is that all?" Philip furrowed his brow.
"When I'm with the rest, I'm the only one in White Church robes in a sea of dove grey." Alfred plucked his white sleeve. "I stick out, like a duck in a group of swans."
Philip unconsciously touched his own Holy Mantle, frowning.
"Alfred, I think you want more than just Executioner robes."
"No. I could not possibly want anything more." Alfred said stubbornly, turning back to the book.
"You still want to be an Executioner." Alfred jerked his head up, glaring at Philip.
"I cannot be an Executioner! Logarius said so!" Alfred tried to say firmly, but his voice betrayed him by cracking.
"But you still want to be one." Philip said gently. Alfred looked down sadly.
"Of course I do! I want to be one with all my heart! I've wanted to be one ever since I saw you and Bernice!" He looked at Philip tearfully. "Why would you reopen this wound? During all last month I have strived to believe that I can be happy without being a true Executioner, and now you have set me back to the start!" Alfred slammed the book shut, making to leave.
"Alfred! I'm sorry." Philip took his hands before he could storm out. Alfred glared at him, but stopped attempting to leave. "I didn't mean to upset you. If anything, it's my fault."
"It is your fault for bringing this up." Alfred said, frustrated.
"No, it's my fault for asking Logarius to let you train like an Executioner. It was me who got your hopes up."
"He is Master Logarius!" Alfred interjected, before looking down at the floor. "You...you do not have to apologize for letting me think I was going to be a normal Executioner. These have been the happiest years of my life. Just staying here, being with my family...I think I can be happy, even if I am not a real Executioner." He looked Philip in the eye, blinking away tears.
"Master Logarius already told me that you asked him to let me train. I understand. Just...please do not rub the reality into my wounded heart?" Alfred pleaded. Philip smiled sadly, hugging him tightly. Alfred gave a surprised gasp at the sudden affection, but embraced him back.
"I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again." Philip said. He gazed out the window behind him, hiding his frown from Alfred.
"If only to be as sure in something as Alfred is…"
-Present Day-
"Oh, thank the Gods." Quincy breathed as he stumbled through the crumbling stone archway. The man looked to be at his wit's end as he removed his hat, worrying at it with his fingertips and revealing tousled, sweat soaked hair.
"Good to see you safe-with this new strangeness upon us." Alfred said, as casually as he could muster. He was still by the top of the stairs at the forest gate, having found himself rather sluggish after taking the lead elixir. The sedative was doing its job, at least, as his breathing had evened and his heartbeat had returned to regularity. The side effects, the headaches and strange pains were nothing he could not handle.
Neither man looked up at the bloody Moon above, framed by the distant windmills that turned silently over the expanse of the Forbidden Woods hundreds of feet below. Quincy gave out a relieved laugh, edged with anxiety.
"I was so worried-I thought, since everyone in the Chapel is acting strange, that you too-"
"Acting strange?" Alfred tilted his head, concerned. Quincy shook his head sadly.
"They've all gone mad, or sick, I don't know what to do, what I can do." He smiled up at Alfred. "At least...you are still here. You are still yourself. Nothing will change that."
"A difficult promise to make on such a dangerous night." Alfred could not stop himself from making the remark. It was true, but the Hunter needed comfort.
"Dunno how you can stay so calm during this." Quincy said with a nervous laugh. Alfred only smiled in response. He was not about to admit his use of sedatives any time soon.
Quincy drew close, then stopped, as if unsure, shyly scuffing his boot on the uneven cobbles. Alfred merely watched him, unreacting. It was strange to see such a confident man hesitate, he observed. Whatever had happened had shaken poor Quincy quite badly.
"Are you in need of something, dear Hunter?" Alfred asked. Quincy gave out another chuckle, dusting his coat.
"I know I probably am not the cleanest right now."
"We were both bathed in the blood of abominations, endured terrible wounds, and have truly exerted ourselves to the limit." Alfred said evenly. What was the man getting at?
Quincy brushed his hair back nervously.
"It's just...I'd really like to feel another person right now. Embrace you. I mean. Nothing more. I just want...to feel a touch that's not trying to kill me." Quincy looked down at his boots, shyly.
Alfred paused. When had he been embraced, during his life? Surely, his lost family had. Amelia had hugged him, after he was made a Blood Saint. Philip had hugged him many times, usually to comfort him after being rejected as a true Executioner time and time again. Outside of his departed brother, he was always too afraid to initiate an embrace, what if he was pushed away?
There was a first time for everything.
Alfred drew close in a halting fashion, his movements slowed with the sedative as well as anxiety, wrapping his arms around Quincy and pulling him into his embrace. He expected for the other man to pull away after a moment, but instead, Quincy reciprocated, his wiry arms holding him tightly, clutching the rough fabric of his holy shawl like a man drowning.
Quincy was a capable hunter, but his lean body felt strangely fragile in his grip. Alfred realized that the man had been shivering slightly as he held him close. He understood that this was a far different embrace from whenever Philip had hugged him, but how, he was unsure.
What a picture it must have made, two hunters hugging under such a ghoulish sky, neither wanting to break the embrace.
Alfred smelled like old leather and dried blood, along with a metallic scent he could not quite place, but Quincy was sure that he himself smelled much worse. His broad shoulders and strong arms made Quincy feel, foolish as it seemed, the safest he had been in hours, pressed against Alfred's surprising softness. There was the persistent ache of awkwardness, the urge to apologize and run off, but Quincy fought it.
"You're a pretty good hugger." He said, trying to break the awkwardness. Alfred responded with a soft chuckle.
"I haven't much practice."
"I...needed this. Thank you." Quincy said, but made no move to leave. He wanted to stay here, enveloped. Heavens, Alfred was tall, with Quincy eye level to his collar. Quincy was of average height back home, but it seemed that everyone in Yharnam was part giant. The urge to just bury his head in Alfred's...rather ample chest was oddly strong.
"After you left, I found a key in the attic, and-when I went outside...there was a monster out there on the lake."
"Some kind of new beast?"
"It was like the Blue creatures, somehow. Not a beast. Somethin' else." Quincy shuddered, trying to still himself. Honestly, what would his hunting partner think, with him trembling with fear? Alfred gave him a reassuring squeeze in response.
"Did you defeat it?" Alfred rested his chin on the top of Quincy's head with a contented sigh, pulling the shorter man closer. Quincy could feel the heat radiating off the other man, his slow, steady heartbeat, making him feel like he was about to melt.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, and there's no need to rub in that I'm shorter." Quincy chuckled. Alfred merely hummed in response.
It was strange, the closeness, just talking casually. Somehow stranger than anything else that night. Quincy never wanted it to end.
"I did-and there was...a woman in a dress sobbing, covered in blood, and then the moon went and turned red-I'm sure this makes no sense." Quincy sighed.
"Nothing makes sense anymore." Alfred admitted.
"Can...you tell me what you are looking for, then?" Quincy asked, feeling Alfred's breathing quicken temporarily.
"The path."
"No need to keep secrets, now." Quincy said gently. "If you can trust me in your arms, you can trust me with what's in your mind."
"I've told you of the Vilebloods. How all but one survives, and of my master's work. How I must find Castle Cainhurst and free him. Surely, that is enough." Quincy frowned. Alfred was deflecting.
"I just want to help you, that's all. How are you going to free your master?" Quincy asked.
There was a pause.
"When...the way becomes clear...surely, I will know." Was Alfred's faltering reply.
"Well, it's an awfully strange night. You might find a way." Quincy said, generously changing the subject. "How long ago was your Master imprisoned?"
"Well...he was not imprisoned." Alfred swallowed hard. Quincy wondered what had got him so reticent. "It was nearly a decade ago...I am...unsure if this is to be discussed with outsid-aha, forgive me. Someone who is not an Executioner."
"If he wasn't imprisoned, why is he staying there at the castle?" Quincy asked. Something was not adding up.
"He is protecting us. There is an evil there he is containing, the last Vileblood. If I can free him from his duty, and destroy the evil myself, he can be Martyred, truly." An unfamiliar excitement was coming into Alfred's voice. It was a slavering tone that made Quincy uneasy.
"The Vilebloods will finally be destroyed!" Alfred pulled back, gazing at Quincy. There was a maddened glint in his eyes that faded as he continued. "My brothers and sisters who died in the siege, they can finally find peace."
"Then…" Quincy furrowed his brow, doing the math. Alfred would have been in his middle to late teens, horribly young to be in a siege, but a cold enough commander would have no remorse in sending someone so young to die.
"Were you there?" Quincy asked. Alfred went tense in his arms. He broke the embrace, stepping back, leaving Quincy cold and alone in his absence. His face was unreadable in the red moonlight, casting his face in blue toned shadows. The red moon behind him seemed to light his golden hair aflame.
"No...no. I was not." He said softly. There was a hint of regret in his voice. Heavens, Alfred must be terribly, terribly, lonely to wish he was there when the people he called family died in a hopeless battle.
"Why-" Quincy began.
"Because Master Logarius willed it that I stay behind!" Alfred interrupted sharply. He paused, looking apologetic, and took Quincy's hand, squeezing it gently as if to ask for forgiveness. His studded gloves only had the coldness of leather, not the human warmth that Quincy craved.
"You must have been quite young. Your Master must have been looking out for you." Quincy said, trying to console him. He had the feeling he was treading carefully here. The wrong word might open up a decade old wound.
"I was old enough to fight. I had been trained." Alfred muttered, more to himself than Quincy.
"Then...you must be the last Executioner." Alfred nodded shallowly, not meeting his gaze.
"I'm...gods, I'm sorry. I don't know what to say." Quincy said softly.
"They died gloriously, in battle. All the Vilebloods, save one, were utterly and righteously destroyed. Martyrs, every last one, save for my Master. I must right that wrong." Alfred looked at him, smiling.
"You would have made a wondrous Executioner, Quincy." He said, clasping Quincy's hands once more. "I feel I can trust you with anything...in fact, let's take a rest. Would you like to come home with me?"
Notes - I really hope Lead elixirs aren't made with actual lead.
I hope you like shoehorned in, speculative Lore. Queen Yharnam is going to become important to this story trust me.
Sorry that this chapter took a while to write. Mostly because dramatic teenage Alfred is kind of hard to write, and also Logarius is hard to write And Logarius is also horrible! Don't use a teenager for blood, you giant *****!
Also, wow, actual hugging instead of confused longing and lingering hand touches? It's almost like this is a shipfic and not JUST a speculative lore extravaganza!
So uh. yeah. don't have much to write here. Keep washing your hands. Stay socially isolated.