Priscilla stood with Coal before the open doors of the corpse-filled barn, watching silently as the Vikings took their leave of the farm. The rest of their group had moved off to help the farmers settle back into their homes, all of them more than happy to follow Marcelo's chivalrous example.
Privately, she wondered if her hesitation to help was a poor reflection of her character, but she had experienced too much disappointment in life to believe that this sort of benevolence would last. Surely, this whole thing was far too ridiculous to be real. She shook her head slowly, not yet willing to believe that a Viking horde would willingly just walk away from a helpless farm ripe for the taking. It was hard to refute what her eyes were seeing, though, even if her training as a Peacekeeper told her to expect the worst.
Coal, it seemed, was of a similar state of mind.
"Is this a joke?" he asked, gesturing at the trail of Northmen slowly making their way back up the ridge overlooking the homestead.
"It would appear not," Priscilla said, looking back to the houses where the farmers embraced each other and celebrated their luck, finally finding salvation from tyrants and heathens alike. At long last, someone had stood up for them, and they could once again believe that true Knights would deliver noble justice upon their enemies when it was rightly owed. "They shed their own blood for their freedom, but one idealistic Warden saves their trinkets without lifting a finger, and they all rejoice to have their mighty heroes return. They keep and farm this land, but in the end, they will never truly rule it. That privilege belongs to their betters. If you ask me, that is the real joke."
She felt Coal turn to look at her, felt his open judgment, but she ignored his gaze.
"Come on," she said, turning on the spot and walking toward the collection of corpses laid out in the barn, "I want to take a closer look at some of these bodies." She had only taken a few steps when she realized that Coal was not following and looked back to see him walking off towards the houses. "Where are you going?"
Coal stopped and glanced back at her, shrugging as if his intent was obvious. "To help."
"Why?" There was a bit more edge to her voice than she intended, but she didn't see the point of backing down and so stood straight-backed with her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at him. "Marcelo got his chance to save the day. How many other farms and villages between the harbor and Mount Ignis have been so lucky? Our mission is bigger than making sure a few barns and houses survive a raid."
Coal shifted on his feet, looking back towards the farmers and the other Knights. "Not every victory needs to be about ending the war, Priscilla. Sometimes, people just need help to get back on their feet, then they can do the rest. The world would be a much better place if people could at least do that much for each other. Trust me."
"How noble of you. Go on then, see if playing the hero works out any better than it did in Eitrivatnen. Perhaps if you had not ended up in shackles, you could have made a fine Warden." She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth but knew there was no taking them back now.
Slinging his flail over one shoulder, Coal hung his head and kicked one foot into the dirt. "Yeah, and maybe if you didn't act like such a frigid bitch all the time, people would see that you're actually a good person at heart. Luckily, I know better. Think the rest of them do?" He gave her one last glance, then turned and walked off.
For a moment, Priscilla simply stood in the barn doorway and glared after him. If Coal thought she cared how anyone else saw her, then he was sorely mistaken. Whether or not people believed her to be cold-hearted didn't matter so long as she accomplished her mission, even if she might loathe the means by which it was done. Everything she did was for the benefit of their homeland, to deliver their people from cruelty and corruption, but it was not the kind of effort that would be remembered in grand tales and legends when all was said and done.
She was a Peacekeeper, a silent blade of Ashfeld's legions, and it was not her place to expect thanks or appreciation for her deeds. It was not her fault that such perseverance could so easily be misconstrued for indifference.
"Bastard," she seethed under her breath as she turned and stalked into the barn, "All of you. Just useless, clueless bastards."
Making her way down the line of bodies, she took a breath and tried to push down her anger and concentrate on the task at hand. There was something about the farmer's story that was bothering her, and letting her frustration cloud her mind now would only hinder her focus. Leaning over the bodies, she began to examine each for the one that the farmer said had been killed by a stab to the neck.
When she found the one she was looking for, she knelt down to examine the wound. The man was indeed killed from a single strike, stabbed towards the back on the right side of their neck. Lifting the Knight's head for a closer look, it became clear that the blade used had pierced clear through to the other side, cutting the spinal column in the process. The farmer had said his son had come from a shed out in the fields, covered in blood and scared out of his wits, with the Pyre Knight's body found soon after. It was, of course, possible for an untrained peasant to kill a Knight with an extremely lucky blow, usually if numbers were on their side, but she had a hard time imagining that a scared young man could manage to land a single and perfectly fatal strike one on one against a trained warrior as ruthless as the Divine Pyre attracts. It could have just been a chance opportunity, but this seemed more like divine intervention.
No, this man had been killed by a practiced and well-skilled hand, not by a desperate farm boy. Strangely, the wound seemed rather familiar to her, only in the sense that she had been taught to quickly eliminate targets in just such a way.
"Beware the Sister, woman of shadow and night," she whispered to herself, thinking over what she had found.
Leaving the bodies and the barn behind her, she strode back outside and saw her fellow Knights and the farmers all working together to get the discarded belongings back into the homes. It was like all of the trouble and strife that had befallen this place had suddenly been carried away on the wind, even as the Viking horde continued to march past on the distant ridge. She looked about the homestead, gazing over the busy people and departing warriors, searching for someone well-skilled at not being seen.
There were ways of reaching out while still remaining hidden, however. In fact, children had a surprisingly good grasp of this technique, oftentimes being overlooked by adults and even their own parents. But when one was keeping an eye open for them, they might have any number of secrets to tell.
The girl was standing off behind one of the houses when Priscilla first spotted her, alone and raising her gaze to lock eyes across the space between them. Taking one quick glance around to make sure no one else had noticed, she headed off in the girl's direction. She approached casually, keeping her posture loose and friendly so as not to scare the girl into running. From the way that the child frowned and clung tightly to a corn husk doll, it was clear that she was anxious to be away. Priscilla could only imagine the fear she had lived through when the Divine Pyre had come and knew that any other Knight bearing armor and weapons would be hard-pressed to ease such fears now.
"Hello, little one," she said softly, making sure to step fully behind the building and out of sight from the others before addressing the girl. She knelt down, bringing her knees to her chest and lowering her hood to remove her helmet. The world became brighter as she set it aside, sliding a hand through her hair and smiling. "What are you doing here all alone? Are you playing?" The girl said nothing but nodded her head. "Are you playing by yourself?"
"Sister says that I am supposed to fetch you and to not tell anyone else, and if I do, I win the game," the girl said in a small but earnest voice.
"And did sister say what you would get if you won?"
The little girl's lips twitched, and she looked down at her feet, swaying a bit with unease. "That my Mama will stop being sad, and we won't have to be scared of the bad men anymore. That things would go back to the way they were. But only if I don't tell anyone that we played together." Her eyes shot back up to Priscilla as if suddenly remembering the rules to win and pointed away from the houses. "Sister is waiting for you there. You have to go see her so I can win the game, and Mama won't be sad anymore."
Priscilla looked in the direction the girl was pointing across the fields to a single, small building that stood far away from everything else. It was nothing but an old tool shed, but it seemed like the perfect place to wait undisturbed.
"Well, we would not want Mama to be sad now, would we?" she said, "Looks like you win, but I think I have an extra prize for you that will be sure to put a smile on Mama's face."
Reaching into a purse on her belt, she pulled out two silver coins and held them out for the girl. They were some of the few coins she had left since the war began, but parting with them seemed worth it in this case. If only to prove to herself that she did, in fact, still care about those in need of a little help.
The girl didn't so much as smile as she looked down at the offered coins, didn't give any sign of thanks or elation to see the glint of silver. She simply snatched the coins out of Priscilla's hand and ran, her dress fluttering as she went. She had nearly reached the other end of the house before she stopped and looked back.
"I don't want to play this game again," she called back, face scrunched up into a scowl, "I just want you all to go away." With that, she turned and dashed away to find her mother.
Priscilla sighed as she watched the girl go, but knew that she would get her wish soon. She only hoped that when all was said and done, things would go back to the way they had been before, or at least as close as they could be. Slipping her hood back over her head, she picked up her helmet and walked off towards the field, making for the lone shed and the sister who liked to play games.
The sounds of the marching horde had become soft in the distance by the time she reached the small building. Its wooden walls were bleached gray by the sun, and the thatched roof needed some patching in a few places, but otherwise, the building looked sound. Sliding her fingers around the grip of her sword for a moment, Priscilla decided not to draw it or her dagger; instead, she simply slid open the door and moved inside.
It was rather dark within, save for the slim rays of light shining in through the boards and old roof. There were indeed several old tools around, along with a few bales of hay piled up on a small platform in the rafters. All was quiet and still, the air around her smelling old and musty, but there was the unmistakable feeling that she was not alone. Setting her helmet down on an old, worn workbench, she tapped her fingers along the metal surface to a soft but rhythmic beat and sang the words she had been taught so long ago in the slums of Beaufort.
"Beware the Sister, silent woman of shadow and night." She smiled despite herself, looking up and gazing all about the interior as she continued. "Oh good Sister, how fair does your blade shine bright."
A melodic voice came out of the darkness in answer, singing to the same beat that Priscilla drummed out.
"Oh good Sister, by silver gleam or crimson-stained hue." Priscilla looked to see a figure now approaching out of the shadows, slightly built and moving with a natural grace to come and stand in the broken light. "Beware the Sister, by her blade may peace be upon you."
The Peacekeeper stopped not far from the workbench, hands resting upon the pommels of the sword and dagger at her waist. Her face was covered by a perfectly crafted mask, like the ones worn by the Ashfeld elite at the summer carnivals, and she wore a long brown hood embroidered with golden flowers upon her head. Her armor was of the finest quality and elegantly crafted, colored a deep royal blue and bearing a golden crown, the symbol of the Lord-Warden's own Royal Legion. Everything about the woman, from her perfect posture to her impeccable poise, spoke of power, prestige, and an unwavering sense of authority.
In Priscilla's experience, it all stemmed from an overly inflated ego and a career built upon broken trust and calculated betrayal. But once they had been friends, years ago when they were young, naive recruits to the Sisterhood of Peace.
The barn was quiet for a moment as the two women looked each other up and down, remaining perfectly still as if the old building wasn't occupied at all.
"You owe me two silver," Priscilla said at last.
The other Peacekeeper gave a slight tilt of her head, but there was no reading her under that expressionless mask. "How you choose to waste your coin has nothing to do with me."
"I saw your kill. Very clean. Not controlling the boy, though, that was sloppy."
"An unfortunate but necessary outcome," the Peacekeeper said, "His panic kept the traitors from searching the shed too thoroughly."
Priscilla scoffed, shrugging her shoulders as she turned and leaned back against the workbench. "So long as things work out in your favor, what does the cost matter? Typical Royal Legion doctrine. What are you doing here, Elise?"
Elise stepped closer to stand beside the workbench, sliding a gloved hand over the rough surface and examining the thick layer of dust left on her fingertips. "Eitrivatnen has fallen to the Viking horde, and the Divine Pyre pulls their forces back to their holy mountain in preparation for a siege. Yet, while all of this occurs, we receive no word from you as to the progress of your mission. You have been silent for too long, Sister. We were beginning to fear that you were dead."
More like the Legion Council feared that she had already failed, Priscilla thought. "As you can see, God has seen fit to carry me through these many trials. I pray that there are no more, but I hardly believe that he listens to any of us anymore. It only ever seems that he revels in our torment and strife like a vice he cannot help but give into."
"Such blasphemy," Elise scolded softly, "You have spent too much time among the heathens. Civilization has fled you, and you have become the very beast that we swore to drive from this land and silence with our blades. You need to come home to Beaufort, Sister. This wild country does not suit you."
Priscilla pressed her lips into a tight smile as she regarded her old comrade. "If only I had ended up among the elegant and wise courtiers of the Royal Legion, then perhaps I might have been spared all this. I suppose it would have been nice to spend day in and day out kissing the Lord-Warden's backside in return for all the comforts of home. Alas, instead I came north and joined with the Lion Flame, all to escape the need for conversations like this with people like you."
"There is always a price to pay for what we want. Clearly you chose the cheaper option. We both know that you have no one to blame for the situation you are in but yourself. Not me, not the Sisterhood of Peace, and certainly not God." Reaching up to grasp her hood, Elise pulled it down around her shoulders, revealing raven black hair pinned tightly behind her head. "What news do you have of the prize you promised to the Lord-Warden?" she asked while unbuckling the straps of her mask.
Priscilla eyed Elise warily. To her mind, it seemed she was paying the price for many decisions made without her in mind and certainly not made with her consent.
"Nothing that I would discuss now," she said sharply, frowning at Elise, "He will get his prize after the Walled City has fallen, when this war is over for good."
Elise slid her elegant mask off her face and set it down on the workbench next to Priscilla's sturdy metal helm. Her features were pale and flawless but hard set like unyielding stone, and she regarded Priscilla with dark, almond-shaped eyes. Foreign eyes, unlike any other Ashfeld Knight that Priscilla had ever known.
"The Pilgrim is dead?"
"Did you draw me out to this hovel just to insult me?" Priscilla snapped, "Of course he is dead, and the Vikings are none the wiser to his passing."
"What of the formula then?" Elise asked quickly, her gaze unflinching, "Do you have Li Qiang's notes for the Pyre's weapon?"
It felt like a stone had just dropped into the pit of Priscilla's stomach, and her entire body prickled with unease as she tensed up on the workbench. "You came a long way for nothing if you think I will be handing them over now," she said quietly, one hand slipping down to the dagger at her hip.
"I came all this way at the Lord-Warden's behest. The task before us is great and will require all of Ashfeld's strength to see it done. Having this weapon at our disposal will give us an advantage that cannot be overlooked. Letting you walk into Hell with the formula in your possession is a stupid and needless risk."
"So I should just hand over the one thing I have to bargain with for the safety of my legion?" Priscilla retorted, "We have a deal, Elise. Our great and noble leader will have his new weapon after the pardon has been issued for every member of the Lion Flame."
Elise frowned, eyes narrowing as if she saw something in all of this that Priscilla couldn't. "What bargaining do you think there is to achieve? Do you truly believe that Lady Judith and the rest will be totally forgiven for what they have done? This venture with the heathens will serve its purpose, but do you really think the willingness with which your legion has chosen desertion can be so easily overlooked? There are limits to what can be forgiven, even in these desperate times."
Priscilla shot up from the workbench, stepping in close to Elise as she snarled. "Do not give me that shit! You know nothing of what happened here," she spat with venom, "Everything we had ever fought for was gone! Just gone! Burned, buried, or just signed away without a care. We had nothing, no one to turn to. You abandoned us and left us to the wolves howling outside our door!"
Elise didn't so much as flinch as Priscilla came at her, though her hands hung loose and ready beside her blades. "God tests our faith in strange and sometimes terrible ways. But for those who hold true to what is right, their reward shall be just. It was a chance to regroup, to bide our time and wait for the enemy to show us their weaknesses, not to act rashly and without thought by declaring revolt against the Council. There is a price to pay for that, Priscilla. A grave price." She spoke softly, without malice or accusation, simply reciting fact. "Thankfully, though, because of you, we have a chance to turn this potential catastrophe to our advantage and rid ourselves of two foes at once. You did the right thing by informing us of your commander's plans. But, there is a price to pay for that, too, if you wish to be welcomed back into the fold."
Priscilla felt the storm of guilt raging inside of her again. All of this had seemed so clear months ago when she had contacted Beaufort and the Sisterhood about what Judith planned to do. It had seemed right then, like she had no other choice but to correct the mistakes her commander was about to commit.
"I only wish to save my legion," she said softly, her anger boiling inside of her, "The Lord-Warden must look past what Judith has done. If I give you the formula now, then I will have nothing to guarantee we walk out of that city alive."
"This is war, Sister," Elise replied coolly, "There was never any guarantee to begin with."
"I am not giving you the formula. The Lord-Warden will just have to wait for his prize, as we agreed."
Elise regarded her for a moment, catching the desperation in Priscilla's voice. "I wonder, will Lady Judith be so thankful for the Lord-Warden's mercy? Will she bend the knee and kiss his ring when all is said and done? Renew her oath to lord and land, to serve obediently once again?"
Of every great and terrible uncertainty that still lay ahead of her on this path, that question, that moment, frightened Priscilla the most. Her throat tightened with guilt, stealing her voice even though she knew there was nothing to say. Despite all of her work and all of her planning, there had always been that liability that she had chosen to selfishly ignore.
"Oh. Oh, Priscilla..." Elise said with genuine pity, "All these years, and you still hope for so much. I thought you had learned better by now."
Priscilla's eyes locked onto Elise, her face hot with rage. "Fuck you," she hissed through clenched teeth.
Elise shook her head. "This plan of yours was destined to fail from the beginning, Sister. It does not matter whether or not the Lord-Warden pardons your legion or condemns them. Judith will never allow things to get that far in the first place, and you are placing yourself in danger for nothing. She will hate you when she learns the truth of what you have done." Her hand came up to gently grasp Priscilla's arm. "Come back to Beaufort with me. Give the formula to the Lord-Warden and return to the Sisterhood free of shame."
"Shame?" Priscilla asked, pulling her arm away, "If there is anything I am ashamed of, it is that I ever believed I could count on you as a sister ever again."
Elise narrowed her eyes, showing her mounting frustration for the first time. "Stop dwelling in the past. The Trial was years ago. Give me the formula now."
Priscilla only laughed, stepping back and picking up her helmet from the bench. "You honestly thought that this would go the way you wanted? I think it is you who needs to learn from the past. I will not be playing into your hand this time."
She turned to make for the door but stopped when she heard Elise draw her blades behind her. Spinning around, Priscilla dropped her helmet and drew her sword and dagger in one fluid motion, bringing them up to block the strike coming at her with the sharp hiss of steel on steel as Elise attacked. Parrying the strike, she swiped with her sword and followed up with a thrust of her dagger, but struck nothing but air as Elise dodged clear. They stared each other down, blades at the ready, each tense and waiting for the next strike.
"When I first came to the Sisterhood," Elise began, her voice low, eyes fierce with wrath, "you were the first person who looked past what I was. The bastard daughter of a Knight and a Myre peasant. None of the other girls could ignore that when I joined. But you-" She lunged forward lightning quick, slashing with her sword only to feint and stab with her dagger instead. Priscilla reacted swiftly, deflecting the thrust and striking back, but Elise dodged and fell back once again. "You were so desperate not to be alone, you would take any outcast to cling onto. You never even stopped to consider whether I felt the same. That was your mistake, not mine!"
Lunging to the side, she stabbed with her sword towards Priscilla's belly. Priscilla twisted her body clear, slashing forward and missing by mere inches.
"I wanted to feel whole again," she said with conviction, following up her attack with another thrust, "To know that people could still support each other, to feel for more than just themselves. God above, Elise, I needed to know that so badly back then. Did you ever even care?"
"What does it matter?" Elise snapped, "Fellowship and camaraderie are for the Order of Wardens, not us. I joined the Sisterhood to claim the nobility that I was owed. You came to find a new family. We were never meant to walk the same path together."
"There was nothing noble in what you did!" Priscilla bit back, striking angrily as Elise easily avoided her blades, "I was with you every step of the way! Every lesson, every moment of pain! All of it, only for you to be a backstabbing bitch in the end!"
Striking forward with her dagger, Priscilla suddenly realized that in her anger, she had over-extended her thrust as Elise easily sidestepped her blade. Lunging forward with nothing to stop her, Elise swiftly grabbed hold and took control of her arm before striking her in the stomach with the pommel of her sword. Priscilla gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, and she dropped onto her back as Elise tossed her away, hitting the ground hard as she stared up at the ceiling. Elise stood above her without remorse or pity, wiping away a few strands of dark hair that had fallen in her face during the fight.
"What honor is there in making a sacrifice when we never had any to begin with? I did what I had to do in order to stand at the Lord-Warden's side, and I would do it again without hesitation. The fact that you were not ready to give up everything to become the Silent Blade shows that you never had it in you to begin with. Now you find yourself in the same situation again, with a chance to rise above everyone that holds you back, and still you are found lacking." Stooping forward, she extended her hand for one of the pouches at Priscilla's belt, no doubt searching for the Zhanhu's formula.
Priscilla appeared dazed from her fall just long enough to let Elise get in close, then suddenly twisted her hips and kicked out hard with her legs, taking Elise's feet out from under her. Now it was Elise who fell with a cry, just as Priscilla rolled up to her knees and thrust the sharp blade of her dagger at Elise's neck. The edge sliced through pale skin, drawing a thin line of dark red blood, but it was only a harmless cut as Priscilla glared down at Elise, panting in frustration.
"Why stop?" Elise gasped after a moment, her eyes squeezed shut, "There is no such thing as mercy in this world. You and I know that. Why do you still falter?"
"I thought you were my friend, but that was my mistake for thinking you gave a damn." Standing up, Priscilla gave a disappointed shake of her head as she backed away. "Things are different now. As you said, we were never a family, but I have one now and will not leave them behind. I will save them, even from themselves if necessary." Sheathing her dagger, she held onto her sword and reached for her helmet. Her hood fell back with a flick of her head, and she hid her face behind the dark iron helm again and turned for the door.
"Remember your oath, Sister!" Elise called after her, holding a hand to her cut neck as she got up off of the floor, "You swore to uphold the peace of the realm. Refusing the Lord-Warden now will only cause more turmoil in the future. Do not forget, it was you who came begging to us for help!"
"If my mission is as doomed as you say, then I see no reason to change it now just to please you," Priscilla said over her shoulder as she reached the barn door, pushing it open to be bathed in bright light, "And for what it is worth, that boy died because of you. Save everyone the price of your vanity and leave me alone until the battle is done."
"Wait!"
Priscilla stopped in her tracks, flicking her sword up in anticipation of a blade coming at her. But Elise remained where she stood, frustration and concern playing across her face.
"There is more," Elise said quietly.
"I think this conversation has gone on long enough," Priscilla sighed.
"Our Sisters have spotted a detachment of Pyre Knights leaving the Walled City. Vincent Chaldeon is leading them. From their number and direction, it does not appear that they are coming to meet the horde head-on. They march to the southeast to reinforce their forces at Cinder Mill and the Great Forge, where they will have access to weapons and hostages as well." Elise paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "You are being flanked."
Priscilla chewed on her lip as she thought over this information, one hand still holding the door open. It was good information to know. Helpful. Coming up with a cover story to sell the Jarls on how she learned of the Pyre's movements would be tricky, but that wasn't what really bothered her.
"If I had given you the formula and come back to Beaufort with you," she began to ask, looking back at Elise, "Would you have still passed on this news to my legion?"
Elise remained tight-lipped and unflinching, saying nothing.
Hot anger tore at Priscilla within, but she kept herself still, simply squeezing her fingers tight around the grip of her sword. "Wait for me outside the walls once the battle begins. Wait for all of us," she commanded, not caring that Elise was her superior by right, "My legion will be ready for our pardon."
"And if you do not survive?" Elise asked, taking her mask off the workbench and stepping back towards the shadows, "If you fall during the battle? The Lord-Warden will still want his prize."
"Then you can waste your time searching through all the bodies and take it off my corpse yourself," Priscilla spat, throwing the door open and stepping outside. She didn't look back as she heard the door slam shut behind her.