When the Queen announced that she was with divine child, all in attendance drank deeply of the wine, a new vintage, and were invigorated for it.
The Queen rose and told the truth, the drink was from her own veins, a divine gift from her intangible lover, a boon to Pthumeria. All celebrated, raising their chalices.
They had spent a few moments embracing after their kiss before the guilt swirling inside of Alfred forced him to gently push Quincy off and stand, picking up his Kirkhammer. It was a pleasant distraction, sure, his poor heart was racing and jumping about with his swirling thoughts and emotions, but only one thing stood clear.
What was really important was finding Castle Cainhurst, and staying here was delaying his destiny. Hopefully he could be forgiven for indulging in a bit of romantic passion along the way, and Quincy had been uncommonly kind and supportive. He had been frightened that Quincy had been scared off by his eagerness, but the man had stayed. The thought made his heart skip a beat. Should he take another lead elixir, to calm it?
"Right, back on the trail." Quincy picked up his Axe where it leaned against the door. "...Thanks for taking me here, partner."
Alfred smiled, carefully moving the Ardeos on the floor to reach his chest of drawers. A compulsion begged him to check them for damage, what if in his excitement earlier he damaged them, but he squashed it down. Not while Quincy was watching. He pulled out a few lead elixirs from the drawer, frowning that his stash was growing low. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes, probably from all the excitement that had happened tonight.
"What's that?" Quincy asked, looking over his shoulder. Startled, Alfred slammed the drawer shut.
"Ah-just some medicines. Hunters tools, and the like, of course." Alfred said quickly, tucking them into his altered pockets.
"I see. Best to stay prepared." Quincy said, smiling at him, and sending Alfred's heart once again racing.
"I was not too terrible at it, was I?" He asked, cheeks pink.
"At what?" Quincy asked, fixing his clothes.
"Kissing. It was my...my first time." Having to admit his lack of experience was shameful, and even worse, Quincy looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Alfred looked hurt.
"Don't feel bad. Just let me take the lead next time, and soon you'll be kissin' like a pro. And maybe don't keep your eyes open."
"Of course!" Alfred agreed, quickly turning towards the door. Wait, next time? The thought of a next time nearly made him swoon.
Years Ago
"Master."
Logarius looked up from his desk, his brow furrowing as he saw Philip standing before him. The boy's-no. The man's face was firm as he glowered at his master. His deep dark eyes, so often warm, were cold with an unspoken accusation. Even his skin that was so flushed with the warmth of life seemed sallow in the candlelight Logarious worked with.
"You neglected to knock, Philip." Logarius said, setting down his quill and leaned stiffly back. He held Philip's gaze and looked down on him. A dare to challenge his authority through whatever minor complaint the youth would raise.
"I need to know what your plans are for Cainhurst." Philip said, ignoring him. Logarius had dominated the dark wooden halls and fervent atmosphere of the Workshop for much of his life, but like many physical irritations, he had developed a thick skin. The Pthumerian no longer carried the weight he once had. Not with Philip, and not with the Church. The other executioners were beginning to notice.
"For now, we have stationed some of your fellow first classmates around Hemwick to keep watch on the accursed place. No Vilebloods can get in or out."
"I mean in future, Sir. Not the present." Philip said all but cutting him off. Logarious bristled at his protege's insolence.
"I shall not entertain conversation with you at this time." Logarius's voice was icy. "I bid you to leave now, before you lose your position as my protege."
Philip bowed stiffly, and left.
Alfred gazed listlessly up at the ceiling, left arm outstretched across the bed. Since his first blood drawing, the procedure had become twice weekly, then every two days, then daily. He had tried to keep up with his studies, despite being told that as a Blood Saint, he did not need to attend any longer, but the new schedule had slowly eaten up any time he had to go and pretend that he was going to be an actual executioner.
He would never voice it to anyone, but ever since the drawings had begun, a foriegn feeling of deep exhaustion had come over him. Even listening to the sounds of his once fellows training and rough housing outside could not rouse him from what seemed to be a state of spiritual hibernation. More and more often, he had found himself more and more often lying in the dorm room during the day, alone.
Alfred pulled up his white sleeve, staring blankly at the angry, purple bruise that had become a permanent feature of his right arm. It had started small, appearing when his blood was first drawn, but it had only continued to grow since.
"Executioners!" Alfred sat up at attention at the sound of Logarius's voice outside. Wearily picking himself up from the bed, he stepped past the rows bunks to pull aside the thick dorm room curtain to see what was happening on the lawn below.
Logarius had lined up his classmates, members of the third class, in a row. A few feet before each one, perfectly aligned in a row, was twelve Golden Ardeos. Logarius was speaking to the now serious class, but Alfred could see the barely veiled excitement on each Executioner's face. Logarius's voice was quieter now, unable to reach Alfred through the glass of the window as he went from Executioner to Executioner.
Alfred watched silently as Logarius reverently bestowed the Ardeos upon his classmate, ritualistically placing the shining conical helmet upon their heads.
'I'm not an Executioner. I'm still a member of the family. I'm just not an executioner.' He began to mumble, feeling hot tears begin to well up in his eyes.
Was it a small mercy that Logarius had not told him about the ceremony, trying to protect him from the harsh truth? Or had Master Logarius not wanted him there at all? Alfred drew the curtains shut. Weeks ago, he would, perhaps, have thrown himself on the bed sobbing, but any deep grief had been replaced by an empty tiredness. He merely buried his face in the pillow, silently willing the tears to stop.
"Alfred!" Collin called. Alfred sat up on the bed.
"Oh! Collin. Hello!" Collin beamed at him
"You should have been there! Logarius made us all true Executioners! We even received our Ardeos! Of course, we had to lock them back in the Armory, but that's just to keep them safe. I'm sure I'd lose mine if that was not the case-" Collin stopped as Philip placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Collin, Alfred has not been feeling very well of late." Philip said gently. Collin looked at Alfred with worry.
"I'm sorry, I just got so excited." Collin said, his expression grave.
"I'll be alright Collin. Thank you." Alfred said, nodding as Collin left.
He and Philip sat in silence as Collin left the door. Excited chatter sounded in the halls outside, but no one else entered the dorm rooms.
"I'm glad Collin is doing better." Alfred said, breaking the silence.
"It's been a while since I have seen him this happy." Philip smiled briefly, before his face became serious.
"Of course, I came here to check on you."
"I'm quite alright. I'm not sick."
"You aren't one to stay inside all day. I know Logarius said you no longer need to attend training or classes, but you love history, and you don't even go to those lessons." Philip said, worry edging into his voice.
"I'm just concentrating on my duties." Alfred said flatly.
"That's admirable, but you are a person. Not a vessel for blood."
"Does it matter? I can help the executioners this way." Alfred stated. Philip crossed his arms.
"Alfred, I love you, but you look terrible."
"Very kind of you, Philip."
"No, I mean, you look sick. You've been losing weight, hardly sleeping. Don't think I don't notice you tossing and turning on the upper bunk all night, and the grey bags under your eyes-"
Alfred's eyes went wide with fear. "Gods, no! No!"
Philip jumped back in surprise as Alfred flew from the bed, pushing past him towards the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him in his sudden panic.
"Alfred!" Philip called, knocking on the door. "What on Earth is wrong?"
The door slowly creaked open, revealing Alfred desperately examining his face in the mirror.
"Alfred, it's just eyebags. From lack of sleep-" Philip started. Realization hit him as he saw Alfred desperately pulling his eyelids back, examining the whites of his eyes.
"Oh gods, no, no, I could infect everyone." He whispered desperately, then opened his mouth to check his teeth. "Not again, please. Anything but that."
"Alfred, it's not Ashen Blood."
"How do you know that?!" Alfred turned to him, his eyes reddened from his panicked examination. "What if it returned? I could infect everyone!"
Philip gripped the boy's shoulders, steadying him.
"You don't have Ashen Blood."
"What proof do you have? Get away from me!" Alfred pushed him back, backing up against the bathroom's wall. "I can't infect you! You are Master Logarius's right hand."
Philip shook his head.
"Alfred. Think. You get your blood drawn every day now, yes?"
Alfred nodded slowly, still panicked.
"Then Doctor Camilla would have noticed the moment the blood entered the vial that something was wrong. The Ashen Blood is not a subtle affliction" Philip said gently.
Alfred stared at him, obviously thinking it over. With a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry, he hugged Philip tightly.
"Forgive me, for being such an oaf!" He said tearfully.
"I can forgive you for that. You are not off the hook for self-abuse." Philip said sternly. "Why have you been staying inside so much?"
Alfred frowned, pressing his thumb against the interior of his elbow.
"You were not quite incorrect when you said I was feeling ill." Alfred admitted. "I have not truly felt myself since the drawings began to occur daily."
"Daily?! Is that so? Why haven't you told me?" Philip said, concerned.
"It is my duty. I said so before, yes? It is the only way I can be of help to the Executioners. It's nothing to concern yourself with."
"What is such a vast amount of blood needed for?" Philip asked, an edge of anger entering his voice. "Doctor Camilla usually uses traditional methods. Having reserves of Blood is one thing, but she's bleeding you damn near dry!"
"I'll be alright, Philip." Alfred said, attempting to smile bravely while casually leaning against one of the sinks. Philip was not convinced.
"I'll have to speak to Logarius about this." Philip said, sighing. "This treatment of you-it's not right. He won't be happy to see me again so soon, I suppose."
"But you are his protege?" Alfred asked, his thick brows furrowing. Philip looking out the door, looking for any other Executioners.
"Alfred, you know our history."
"Yes! By heart!" Alfred said enthusiastically.
"Do you wonder what the Vilebloods know? What do they think, imprisoned in their castle?" Alfred tilted his head, confused. He felt that Philip was trying to get to something, but his head felt heavy and stuffed with cotton. Any thoughts were slow in coming.
"No, why would we need to know what the Vilebloods think?"
"When dogs corner a fox on a hunt, they don't seek to just contain the beast."
"Philip, I don't know what you mean." Alfred said tiredly. The excitement had brought back his previous drowsiness back tenfold. Philip took his arm, leading him back to his bed.
"Rest easy, brother. I'll speak to Logarius." Philip glanced up at Alfred's top bunk, frowning. "Let's switch. I don't want you falling out in the middle of the night."
"I'm hardly that weakened, Philip." Alfred protested, only to be gently pushed onto Philip's perfectly made up sheets. Unwilling to argue further, Alfred went along with it, giving Philip a stern yet exhausted glare.
"Relax." Philip said sternly before leaving.
"What's up with you now?" Bernice fell in step behind Philip as he purposefully made his way to the office. "Off to argue with Logarius again?"
"Only to ask him to let up on Alfred." Philip nodded to a small group of Executioners, still excitedly chattering about their new Ardeos.
"Yeah, he looks pretty dry these days. Camilla is wringing him out like a sponge." Bernice said casually.
"Don't joke about this!" Philip chided, stopping to face her as she smiled mirthlessly.
"It's the life of a blood saint. Oedon's blessing is more of a curse, I'd say."
"Gods. What do we need all the blood for?" Philip asked.
"With enough, maybe we will be able to wipe out the vileblood royalty without too much fear of injury or death." Bernice remarked.
Philip paused. "Wipe them out?"
"Gods, Philip. I thought you were the smart one." Bernice stood before the hallway's window, gazing out at the lawn outside. In the dying summer light, she turned to Philip.
"Logarius never comes out and says it in plain words, but it's always on his mind. We aren't here just to contain the bastards in their hellish little castle, we are here to kill the Nobility. What the hell did you think the wheels, the rituals, the impassioned speeches about the wickedness of the Cainhurst Royals was about?"
Bernice continued while Philip stared aghast.
"I always wondered why you joined. You don't really have a horse in the race."
"I joined the healing church, and they suggested the Executioners needed my aid." Philip interrupted. Bernice snorted.
"Because you were a strong looking young lad with a good head on his shoulders, not someone for a life of fiddling with the profane and gods know what." Bernice set her jaw in determination. "I joined the Executioners because the damn Vilebloods have strangled Hemwick ever since they came here!"
Philip tried to speak, but there was fire in Bernice's eyes.
"My brother goes missing, vanishes after hunting in the woods near Cainhurst! Later, when the Vilebloods ride into town, looking for cattle to force us peasant farmers to give, and there he is, trailing behind his new masters! Wizened, aged, twisted by foul magic! They deny everything, but it was him, and his mind was totally gone!"
"I'm sorry-" Philip started, before Bernice cut him off.
"They said our tithe that year was our best cow and our finest steer, but it was really that and my brother, now a slave to Cainhurst!" Bernice hissed. "The Vilebloods have bled Hemwick dry, stealing good men and daughters, our animals and crops, leaving us in the dirt while they drink from gold cups and dress in fine furs. I'm not in this for any misuse of holy blood or whatever the dogma says. I'm in this for my home."
Philip nodded silently.
"Logarius is a crazy old bastard, but even he won't go as far as to kill the children 'n maids and all. Once Hemwick is free from the Vileblood stranglehold, I'll turn my back on this bloody church and never look back. Try to rebuild my home, free it from the grasp of the Vilebloods, and the Witch."
"The Witch?" Philip asked. Bernice went from angered red to deathly white.
"That is no talk for anyone outside of Hemwick. She's our curse to bear." Bernice hissed, storming off.
Philip sighed, going back on his course for Logarius's office.
"Philip. Once again." Logarius steepled his bony fingers. The dark oak had always made the Pthumerian's office seem dim and oppressive. No amount of candles could change that, and despite the heat outside, no warmth penetrated Logarius's sanctum.
"Tell me your plans for Alfred." Philip said, clasping his gloved hands behind his back. "He is being bled dry. And as your second, it is only right that I know why."
The great man's lips drew into a thin line as he regarded Philip with something between disappointment and disdain. "He is a blood saint and is being treated as such. Camilla would not remove blood excessively. He is young. He is strong. He can support it."
"He's barely fifteen." Philip's voice raised in pitch and volume. His knuckles tightened behind him. "And he nearly had a breakdown at the mere insinuation that he may have Ashen Blood once more. He cannot support it."
"Mere adolescent neurosis." Logarius said dismissively. "Alfred is the excitable type, and prone to such outbursts. He always has been. Console him when you feel it necessary."
"What do you need so much blood for, Logarius?" Philip asked, dropping his hands to his sides with a rustle of studded leather and holy robes. "There's only a handful of Executioners out in the field, and Doctor Camilla is more likely to reach for a bandage than a vial. What are you planning…" Philip paused, before adding, almost spitefully. "Master."
"You have been my protege for too long to have not recognized my goals. Our goals. I am ashamed of you." Logarius said, his deep voice growing dangerous.
"It's supplies, isn't it? For a siege?" Philip asked, uncaring. "You plan to storm Castle Cainhurst."
Logarious barked a sharp laugh. Philip had been by his side for years, and he only now realized what their purpose was?
"What do you think you signed up for, lad? This is what I've worked towards since being unearthed! This is the purpose of the Executioners. Where have you been in all my lectures? In all my speeches? Standing beside me deaf?"
"You cloaked your motives in words of containment! I did not sign up for eradication!" Philip argued. "You mean to kill them all!"
Logarius slammed a massive, skeletal hand on the desk, his golden rings hitting the dark wood with a loud clang. He was floored. What blinders had this boy been wearing? He appeared as a man but had the thoughts of a child to believe the Vilebloods deserved anything but death.
"I have not been shy about it! You are my second in command! You, you of all people should know why everyone and every last Vileblood should be purged!" He rose from behind his desk, slowly moving towards Philip.
"When a soldier contracts an infection, you do what you can to save the body." He rumbled, drawing closer. "Without holy blood, when gangrene has taken their arm so fiercely," Logarius held aloft one long, thin arm, clutching the forearm tightly, "That it can no longer be saved, you must remove that limb to save the man. The vilebloods have been beaten back, they have been contained, but they must be amputated from the body of humanity!" Logarius had Philip cornered against the closed heavy door, but Philip matched his gaze with a fire of his own.
"The Vilebloods, wicked as they may be, are still people. King Cain must fall, but what of the innocent? Those infected unwillingly? The townspeople stolen from their homes, the servants, the children? Will you kill them too?!" Philip argued, refusing to back down.
"The Vilebloods stopped being people the moment Cain the First lifted the corrupted Chalice to his lips. They are tainted with unholy sin and blood, and cannot be saved. An infected oak tree drops infected acorns. The child of the oak is as ill as the parent by no fault of its own, but it must be culled to prevent the spread."
"People aren't trees!" Philip snapped. He was shouting in full force, but Logarius was deaf to him. "They're people! Capable of containing their own illness, capable of being cured! Killing them doesn't make you right- it makes you a murderer-"
There was a crack as Logarius whipped out his arm and back handed Philip. The man fell to the floor, spinning first into the door and collapsing briefly on the ground. Philip fell to his knees, stunned and unable to speak or process what had happened. He thought, briefly, he felt the hot prick of tears in his eyes and the burn of the bruise forming on his face.
"Know that it is my affection for you, Philip," Logarius's voice was deep, low, and threatening like a great beast's growl. "That saves you from the consequences of your Heresy. Leave and do not return. Your Heresy is a danger to us all, and you endanger your once-brothers and once-sisters with your doubts so close to the hour of judgement. If I see you here again, if I hear any of my family speaking like you do, know that they and you will suffer the consequences of that Heresy."
"Philip?" Alfred rose as he heard the familiar sound of Philip's boots on the dormitory floor.
Philip looked at him, Alfred already halfway out of the bunk, and merely sighed.
"I might be going away for a long while, Brother."
Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion. Philip smiled sadly. Slow on the uptake as ever.
"Logarius has told me to leave, Alfred."
Horror dawned on Alfred's face.
"Master Logarius has exiled you? Why?" He asked, his voice breaking slightly on the 'why'.
"Calm down. You aren't feeling well." Philip said gently, gathering his things. Lacking any bags or luggage, he decided to use the large holy mantle of the Executioner as a rucksack. As an afterthought, he removed the overcoat of the Executioner robes, tossing the garments on the floor.
Alfred gave out a small gasp, and immediately went to gather up and neatly fold the dropped clothes. Philip merely straightened his cotton undershirt. Thankfully, the summer uniform of the Executioners lacked the thick woolen sweater of the winter uniform.
"Alfred, it's but cloth."
"It is our holy mantle!" He argued. "What could you have possibly done to warrant this banishment?"
"Questioned high and mighty Logarius and his intention. Challenged him on his own evil." Philip said, setting the coins he had saved from his pay over the years in the makeshift bag.
"Evil? I must truly be ill, to be imagining you saying such things. Master Logarius is not evil! Is this because of the bloodletting? I wish to give my blood, truly!" Alfred looked feverish with denial, clasping the discarded overcoat with whitened knuckles.
"That's but the tip of the iceberg, Alfred." Philip said, gathering up the cloth to form a bag. He briefly reflected on the lightness of it.
"Alfred. Come with me. This place is evil. What Logarius wants is evil. Hell, I'd say the whole damn church is evil."
Alfred covered his ears, shutting his eyes as if to further block out Philip's words.
"No! How could you say such things about our family!" He burst out, proving that the words had indeed reached him.
"Family does not drain the blood of a mere boy!" Philip snapped. "Family does not plan to slaughter innocents along with the wicked!" He relented at the expression on Alfred's face, a mixture of betrayal and hurt.
"Alfred, please. Come with me. I'm going to leave this awful country. I'll go west, where blood is not more valuable than lives."
"This is the only family I've ever known! I can't believe you would cast it away like this, just because they take my blood!" Alfred shouted. Philip winced, hoping that none of the others of their class were near the dorms.
"Alright. I'll go, then." Philip gathered up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Instantly, he felt Alfred tightly hug him from behind.
"No! Please don't go. It's my fault, isn't it? I'll speak to Master Logarius! Please Philip, don't leave!"
"Alfred, it's not your fault. I choose this. I can't follow this cause any longer, and nothing you can say to me or Logarius could change this." Philip gently pried off Alfred's grip-still strong, despite his recent weakening-from around his waist. He gently ruffled the boy's hair, feeling himself get a bit teary as he noticed that Alfred was trying his very hardest not to cry.
Gods, how could he tell Alfred that everything he knew and believed was wrong? Even now, he was still a boy, believing truly in the Executioner's mission.
"We will meet again someday, I promise. Stay safe." Philip said. He could not tell what Alfred said in reply, as the boy had fallen into inelegant blubbering. He awkwardly patted him on the shoulder before leaving, and closed the door gently behind him.
Philip had sought to slip out quietly, before dinner. He had a good sense of direction, and knew that he could possibly hitch a ride on a passing carriage to Yharnam, then find a way out of Yharnam for good.
He had not expected to run into Bernice.
"You damn idiot." She said, stepping out from behind the gate, folding her arms.
"Let me pass, Bernice."
"I will. But I heard."
"Eavesdropping on Master Logarius?"
"I'm here for my own goals." Bernice waved a hand dismissively. "Not the dogma. You want Cain dead, don't you?"
"Yes. But I can't stand by and have the servants and children be slaughtered too." Philip groaned with frustration. "Don't think I'm doing this because I think King Cain and the other nobles aren't evil. Logarius is going about it the wrong way. We need a revolution, not a massacre."
Bernice nodded grimly. "My Hemwick Executioners will see to that when the time comes, then. I promise."
"You would turn against Logarius during the siege to do the right thing?" Philip asked.
"Suppose I should have said that before you burned your bridges. The Hemwick crowd answers to me first, Logarius second. But I admire your morals. Shouldn't have been so rude, before."
"I feel like I have been quite blinded." Philip said, touching his forehead. "I only saw what I wanted to see."
"Aye." Bernice said flatly.
"Is there anything I can do to help your cause, now? I meant to just ask Logarius to stop draining poor Alfred, and well...I got a bit cross, especially after what you said...Bernice?"
"Mm?"
"Please, look after Alfred. Logarius was right. He's a bit excitable, but he's got a good heart. I just feel it's too easy for him to be led astray."
"What, you'll leave him in Logarius's claws?"
"How could I tell him what we know? He-"
"Thinks the sun shines out of Logarius's boney arse." Bernice interrupted. Philip sighed.
"Not what I would have said, but correct."
"Suppose you both are the same, then." Bernice looked out on the woods, thoughtfully. "You both saw a worthy crusade where there is none."
"...Then I should return and share my epiphany-"
Bernice blocked his entrance back through the iron gates, looking stern.
"You will do no such thing. By now, Logarius would have told everyone about your betrayal. Just leave."
Philip stared at her for a moment, before shaking his head.
"Brutally honest as always. I suppose It's goodbye, then." Philip bowed to Bernice, who hesitated before bowing in return.
"Goodbye." She said, before turning away from him, and walked down the path.
As the moon rose, Philip set out down the road to Yharnam, not even sparing a glance back at the Executioner's workshop.
Present Day
"Hold on for a moment, dear hunter." Quincy paused, watching Alfred disappear into one of Yharnam's many alleyways.
Quincy waited patiently for Alfred, scanning the street for any beasts. The moment he and Alfred had left his rented room and returned to the streets, both had been ambushed by two starved, beastly dogs. The once empty rows of houses had probably attracted more beasts looking for prey, and the sounds of the dying doglike monsters had only attracted the twisted huntsmen. Quincy heard splashing coming from the alley, and peeked in to see what his companion was doing.
Alfred had found a nearly full rain barrel, and was carefully washing the blood and grime from their last few encounters off his face and beard.
"Now's hardly the time to worry about cleanliness." Quincy remarked.
"It makes me feel better." Alfred said, wiping a bit of blood off his cheek. "Besides, you must be performing a toilet as well. Whenever we are separated, you come back looking cleaner then when I last saw you."
Quincy sighed.
"You believed me about the dream and stuff when I told you."
"I saw you fall to Beasts and that despicable doctor, yet return unharmed. I cannot doubt my own eyes." Alfred stated flatly, before dunking his whole head in the rain barrel.
"Alfred! You don't know what's in that!" Quincy exclaimed as Alfred came up, shaking off the excess water and removing a handkerchief from his pocket to dry his hair and face.
"I'll take a proper bath once this is over. The worst thing in there is probably some dead insects and grime. Now, about your sudden cleanliness."
Quincy shrugged. "Whenever I'm sent back, my clothes are no longer damaged and I'm no longer covered in dirt and grime." Alfred nodded.
"I'm a bit envious." He said. Quincy frowned, his eyes lingering on Alfred's chest. Despite the Imposter Iosefka having torn through cloth and skin, the Executioner's uniform was undamaged, and lacking any stain.
"Did...did you change your robe?"
"No. I said this was the only one mostly intact-" Alfred's eyes widened, putting a hand on where Iosfeka attacked him. "Quincy…" He started, staring at him with confusion, handkerchief still dabbing his cheek.
"Did Iosfeka kill you?" Quincy asked, realizing how foolish the sentence sounded once it let his mouth.
"She...I thought she had gotten the best of me, yes, but…"
"You somehow ended up back in Cathedral Ward." Quincy jerked his head back at the sound of distant howling.
"We have to get movin'. I think the beasts smell us here." Quincy turned back. "Look, even if you get the Dream's second chances or not, please stay careful, alright?" Quincy furrowed his brow. "I think I have an idea for a little experiment."