Chapter Text
The robes of the Cleric, light and fleeting as they may be, carry a weight entirely separate from the bounds of their cloth, their physical matter. To don the Habit was to shoulder the burden of doctrine and purpose. An almighty, untaintable, goodness, and that weight was heavy in a way that spiritual strength was tested, exercised, and hammered into a holy shield against evil, or honed into a holy weapon. For me, there was an extra weight hanging on beneath my tunic. A flintlock pistol, holstered and hidden, on my right hip opposite the knife on my left. Both made from cold iron, barely containing the weight of human mortality upon my soul. At any moment these tools could make me a sinner, and yet these are the tools gifted to me by Father Klem at the divine guidance of Lord Yyhael. I’ve been tasked by the lord to hunt demons of lust as they whisper into the ears of man. Ideally before their sin has been forced upon any mortal, but the bare minimum of my duties is a swift exorcism.
Lust’s demons are nasty, there’s no ritual or rites that will expel their temptation from a human soul. Lethal force has been approved by the clergy. A swift death and a prayer are what the doctrine states will grant the soul beneath the influence the most mercy. I’ve set out as a missionary, my meager arsenal hidden beneath the burdens of Lord our God. This has brought me to sitting at the edge of a bar. Nursing a glass of water. The doctrine forbids men of the cloth from alcohol. The temptations of beer and wine are the harmless pranks of minor demons, the patrons here will be absolved from sin and freed of their influence as long as they pray to Yyhael. There are regulars here who drink and pray every night, but their frequent contact with our Lord does not make them known to be thralls of these minor demons, just weak against harmless little pranks. I however cannot show weakness even to the most minor demons and harmless spells, it is my duty to stand as a bulwark against all of demonkin’s temptations.
The man behind the counter finishes a conversation with the patrons on the other end of the bar and approaches me, “Hey Father, can you ask the man upstairs something for me?”
I wave my hand to him, “Father is the title of the priesthood, I am Brother John. You can borrow my chains if you want to ask him yourself, but I’ll lend my ear and my words if you need someone who can answer. Go ahead, bartender.”
“You can call me Micheal. If you’re offering, I think I’d like to hold your chains, but I need a voice that answers back.” Micheal said, a shifty weariness drawing his eyes to the door.
I unwrap an iron chain necklace from my wrist. Hooked on one of the links is a golden concave disk, a likeness of the dish that the divine messenger was made to bleed out in by heathen courts many many centuries before my time. I took the barkeep’s outstretched hand in my right hand, and pressed the chain into his palm with my left. The touch, as we’ve been taught by doctrine, is to help the faithful feel Yyhael’s love and kindness through the hands of his servants. The barkeep clearly felt it, as he gripped the chains as if they were the most precious thing he ever beheld. He’s lost in his enchantment of the chains, eyes fixated upon them. Studying the hard links and the golden dish as if there were secrets there that would ease every worry he ever had. I gave him his few moments of peace with our Lord before prompting him to speak his mind. But was prompted he spoke clearly, the weariness having slightly waned, “It’s my daughter. She was supposed to be home more than a few hours ago. She’s faithful, like me, and she’s never late to come home. She’s never late anywhere. She follows the virtue of punctuality so obediently she makes it seem like it could be a sin. I didn’t worry at first, she’s getting to that age, but now it’s gone beyond what I thought possible of my little girl. Which is why I know something must have happened. I’m asking the Lord to make sure that whatever is keeping her from home is something that she can come back from. Kids should never go before their parents.”
I felt a realization click into place. That this might be my first lead to a demon of lust should someone have taken her. I am not to make myself known yet, if a demon overhears me here they might flee and take their sins elsewhere. So I tell the barkeep, “There’s a demon that whispers in the ears of all parents. It shows them visions of harm and tells them lies about their children. It will tempt you into the sin of confinement, clipping the wings of doves before they leave the nest so that they never know the fear of falling or the pain of hitting the ground below. You must resist this sin, so that the dove may also learn the joy of soaring through the sky and building its own nest. I’m sure your daughter is stretching her wings somewhere, and when she realizes the time she’ll be home as fast as her wings can carry her.”
The barkeep stares into me for a moment, taking in the metaphor. He grins, “Thanks Brother John. You know us parents will never stop worrying, but I’ll keep in my prayers tonight that she’s safe. I’m not sure I can resist the demon if she’s not home by morning, but for her sake I will try.”
“Thank you, Micheal. You’re a father worthy of our Lord.” I comforted.
This seemed to brighten his eyes just a little before going off to tend to more customers. I finished off my glass of water and examined the dim gloom of the room. It was late, and surely I must act swiftly in order to find this man’s daughter. The fact that she was missing was the only clue I had, but with any luck I wasn’t lying to Micheal about his daughter’s youthful rebellion. There’s another bar in this town, one that wouldn’t welcome me, a brother of the cloth. This isn’t unusual, sometimes the presence of our Lord can quell the thirst for beer and wine, even if his presence is only through me. It's bad for business to scare the demons away and deny them their pranks. Perhaps I should’ve persisted to that bartender more fervently that I must stay, that “that” bar is the one I was supposed to sit at that night. If I said it was ordered by our Lord I surely couldn’t be denied, but it would have been a lie, and not a virtuous one like the lie I used to set Micheal at ease. Well that’s not even necessarily a lie, but advice as I’ve been trained to give it to any parent wondering why their child is leaving their influence. It will serve him well even after I have found his daughter.
I leave a tip, there was no charge for the water, and make my way back to the other bar. The eyes of the patrons seem partly amused to see a man of the cloth wander in so late at night. Surely expecting me to commit sins as one of them, but I will not. I walk up to the bar and the tender rocks his knuckles on the counter, “I told you, Father, that you aren’t welcome here.”
“I know, but my mission requires that I ask you one question.” I say, trying not to craft any divine lies, but expressing my honest need to be here.
“Yeah,” he sighs, “What is it?”
“A young girl, I think she might’ve been a patron here tonight. She has gone missing and I intend to return her to her parents before I skip town. Do you recall anything like that?”
The barkeep sighs, “Yeah, Micheal’s daughter. She was here. I didn’t serve her any alcohol if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“The Lord and myself thank you for protecting her from that sin, but I fear she might be getting involved with another. Did she leave with anyone?”
“The baker’s son. A young adult. He’s allowed to make his own bad decisions, you know? He doesn’t need you around to treat him like a child.” the barkeep said.
“I swear on my Lord, I’m only here looking for a specific type of sin. If you tell me where to find him and I see for myself that the youth are… ‘stretching their wings’ I will not have the right to interfere. But if that boy is stretching her wings for her, then that is the line that I’m worried has been crossed.”
The barkeep raises an eyebrow at me, but then he eases and says, “He and his friends have a hangout by the river. A watermill that was left to disrepair a long time ago. If he isn’t home, you can find him there.”
I take a coin from my pocket and go to drop it on the counter, he waves a hand to stop me. “Keep it father. My own daughter isn’t too far off from making the same mistakes, she’s friends with Micheal’s. Go make sure she’s safe.”
“Thank you. May our Lord bless you for your kindness.”
This makes the barkeep laugh for some reason, but then he continues wryly, “Now get out of here. The patrons are too nervous to drink with you around.”
“Yes, sir.” I say as I take my leave from the establishment.
I walk the river until an old brick building matching the description comes into view. A waterwheel with snapped spokes and a second floor with rotted dry wood, this peculiar piece of architecture could not serve its purpose without first being completely demolished and rebuilt. The fact that no one has done so is proof that this is the perfect place to avoid the prying eyes of villagers. The locals have abandoned this building and left it behind to rot. I walk to the entrance and try the door. It’s completely boarded up. Walking around back I found a window where the single board blocking access is loose. As if it's been placed there to appear as if fixed into place. I need to hike up my tunic to climb through the wall, carefully watching the rusty nails and splinters that threaten to tear through my holy shield. The inside is dark. “Hello? Is anyone here?” I yell into the void.
No answer. I carefully walk through the building. Upstairs and downstairs there’s no one. I check the hearth of the fireplace for signs of a fire. Reaching inside the pit the charcoal is cold enough to touch… but still warmer than the air around me. Someone was here, but the fire has been dead for a few hours now. I take a tinderbox from my pack to work on relighting the flame to bring some light into the building. As the red glow begins to grow, I see a bedroll stuffed in the barrel by the fireplace. I pull it out to examine it by firelight. There’s a wet spot around hip height on the roll and a slight smell of blood. Her sanctity was taken from her here, and it must’ve happened tonight. I peek into the barrel and see lengths of rope and bags of coins sitting in the bottom. “The slave trade?” I mumble to myself.
There are two streaks in the dust leading back to the window I entered through. In order to protect my habit I pull the boards from the door so I can exit from the front. I grab an unlit torch from the wall, light it on the fireplace, and then close the hearth to suffocate the fire. Walking around back I see the drag path leading into the river, and after squinting I think I see it start again on the other side. I walk into the river, careful to hold my source of light, my pack, and my pistol above my head. My Tunic is soaked, but everything I need is high and dry. The water goes up to my chest, the slight push of the slow current making me stumble but not fall over. Finally reaching the other side, covered in water and feeling heavier for it, another burden to be shouldered. Yyhael surely testing not just my spiritual strength, but my physical aspects as well to ensure my ability to carry out his divine mission.
The drag path extends into the deep woods, thankfully it follows a well beaten deer trail, making it easy to navigate the foliage. Walking the winding trail, the cold water soaking my tunic starts to tempt my senses to turn back. The shivers down my spine and sniffles that tickle my nose make it clear that I need to warm up soon. I must’ve been walking for an hour before I heard conversation coming from in front of me. I focused my footsteps. Heel-to-toe and stressing my knees until my footsteps were near quiet. The glow of a fire creeped through the bramble. I left the trail to find thick cover to eavesdrop. I can see the clearing now. Around the fire there’s a girl on her knees. Bound, gagged and naked. There’s a lead around her neck being held by a young man. That girl cannot be older than fifteen. Across from them there were two other men. Soldiers from the northern territories, heathen lands. One of them was rifling through a pack and pulled out a pouch of coins. “She did well.” He said as he passed the coins to the Baker’s son.
The young man took the pouch and started counting, “A little extra, huh. Well here you go.”
He pointed the end of the lead to the men and as they took from his hands they yanked her over. As her whole body jerked to the other side of the fire I saw the look on her face. Tear streaked cheeks and distant eyes. As she came to kneel in front of them, the other man reached down to cup her breast. That’s when I pulled my pistol and sent a lead ball between his eyes. The crack of the gunpowder bursting made them scatter. I chased after the other soldier and met his path, with the dagger in my left hand I sent one swift strike to his neck. Parried, and then suddenly a sword was coming to my side. I lunged forward with my gun hand to lock his hilt with the barrel of my pistol. My other foot stepped forward and then my dagger was in his heart. A swift exorcism. I went to the other demon I had exorcised by the fire and gave his unbloodied clothes to the naked teen. I packed some gunpowder into my pistol and took a lead ball to load it. I dropped my pack by the woman and swiftly pursued the Baker’s son through the woods. I heard the rustle of leaves first, and then I saw the shake of a fern. I crossed the foliage, footwork guided by the grace of Yyhael to build a sightline ahead of his path. And then I aimed. A second before his head crossed my line of fire I pulled the trigger carefully, and then the lead ball exorcised the demon from him.
I dragged his body back to the fire. The girl watched quietly, clinging to the jacket I wrapped around her. I cut her ropes, but she didn’t move or speak. I went to retrieve the body of the other foreigner. I laid them in a row in front of the fire and sat in front of them, cross legged. I tented my hands in my lap, thumbs to the sky, and began to say the prayer. “Of Yyhael, the flesh was given. By evil the mind was taken. And by good the flesh was stripped from evil. And by the embers gifted to man to overcome cold winters and the taint of gluttony from our meals. The gift to work metals and build empires. So then, this flesh will be freed from taint by the sacred rites of the fire, and our empire in heaven will grow stronger should these restless souls find mercy beyond the boundary. Ynem.”
The girl continued to watch as I hauled the bodies onto the bonfire, and the smell of burnt flesh and hair tainted the smokey air around us. As their skin bubbled and then crisped into charcoal the girl got up and moved towards me. I saw wet stains in the gravelly dry dirt where she was sitting. A deep red color was amongst them. It was distinct against the white/gray ashy color of the rest of the ground. This must not have been the first time they’ve met the baker’s son here. This is not the first time this campfire has been lit. The nature around us knew to leave the ash and gravel here alone, there’s no other way the ground here would be this gray and devoid of life. And there’s no other way I’d be able to tell that shade of red apart from the rest of the ground.
I looked at the girl. Besides the bruising where her binding had been, she was unharmed. I wouldn’t ask to look anywhere unholy, I didn’t have to. I dug into my pack and took out some bandages. I rolled them up, cinched a short length of a narrow twin around the center, and folded the bundle in half around it. I passed the finger width bundle to the girl and didn’t say a word. I just averted my gaze. After a moment I spoke. “Your dad is praying you’ll be home by sunrise.”
She didn’t say anything to that. After another awkward moment I continued. “I didn’t tell him that you were here. I told him to trust you.”
I felt her presence shift. Subtle sounds and vibrations, perhaps something I was still tuned into thanks to the excitement of the exorcism. She hunched over and a few moments ticked by until she began to throw up all over the dirt. Horrific sounds piercing my mind as the image of the red stain in the dirt stayed present. Once the retching had ceased, the sobbing had started. She’s starting to process what she had just gone through. This is… good. She’s on her way to being conversational, back from the edges of her sin. Several minutes of heartbreaking sobs lingered between us before I dared speak again. “He doesn’t know about me either. He doesn’t know I was sent here to exorcise those demons.” I pressed.
“Those weren’t demons…” she muttered.
I sought to correct her, “They were possessed by demons of lust, they weren’t-”
“They WERE” she interrupted.
“You don’t know what I was about to say”
“Say what? That they weren’t people? That they weren’t aware? That they weren’t enjoying my body? That they didn’t know what they were doing or why they were doing it? They knew. Those weren’t demons… they were just bad people. Whatever you were going to say that they weren’t? I say they were.”
I… didn’t know what to say. For this girl to blaspheme on behalf of her agressors… I wasn’t prepared for that, “Miss? I’m sure you’re mistaken. Who would do such a thing? Why would Yyhael create men capable of such a thing.”
She began scream-crying as she sobbed the next part, “Your god says they are not human. Their god says they are more human. Their god would celebrate them for what they did to me. They thought they were doing the right thing, just like you are. No demon would need to possess someone to do what they knew was right.”
I was aghast. “This cannot be true. My lord would not permit me to murder.”
She choked a laugh through her sobs. “Ha, well, maybe your god is just as made up as theirs.”
I stood up and looked down on the young woman, “Blasphemous. You’d defend the heretics like this?”
She furrowed her brow as she met my gaze. “To them you’d be a heretic and a murderer. Let me ask you, father-”
I grumbled, “Brother… Brother John.”
She sarcastically waved her hand, “Brother. What of me? As a woman of your lord, what would I be tonight? Not because of what I’ve said, but of what I’d done against my will?”
I cleared my throat, “Those demons forced sin upon you. Our lord will understand you had no choice. You could tent your hands right now and ask for forgiveness and he would give it.”
The tears in her eyes could no longer be heard on her voice as she spoke these next words, “Why should I be forgiven? I didn’t do any of this. I didn’t even take off my clothes before I was bound and gagged.”
I spoke without thinking, “Well then I’m sure If you explained-”
She cut me off again, “Explain!? Isn’t he watching? Doesn’t he already know? So what? Am I a sinner until I ‘confess’ to something I didn’t do?”
My next words came more carefully, “Well, their sin was forced upon you. The taint of a demon still needs to be cleansed. There are proper ways to do these things. It’s not your fault, and Yyhael would like to free you of their sin. You just need to recognise that the sin is there.”
She responded, tears clearing up, “Your god says I’m a sinner. Their god says I’m a resource. I just want to be myself, a human, in charge of my own body, and back home with my father. If I am a sinner, is there a demon inside me too?”
I nervously responded, “Not… fully. Just part of one. It’s not dangerous yet, but you need to admit it’s there in order for Yyhael to remove it.”
“If I don’t… will you have to kill me too?” she asked, with a serious calmness.
“That’s not my mission…” I said, hesitantly.
“So it’s someone’s then? Save them the trip and just do it… I’m tainted. I’m a demon in waiting. You’ll be celebrated for ‘exorcising’ me right now.”
I noticed her choice of words. She’s not wrong, I would be celebrated. Just like those northern soldiers might’ve been celebrated if their god was real. I have the authority. Within the parameters of my mission I should ignore her. Best case scenario I get her to pray for the removal of the taint herself, but I have been permitted lethal force. For some reason that felt wrong. I sighed, “I’m not going to kill you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Forget it then. Take me back to my father. I want to go home.”
I stood silent for a moment. Looking at this young girl wrapped in the clothes of her dead aggressor. “Alright.” I muttered.
As we hiked back towards the village the excitement of battle wore off. I felt the pain in my wrist from when I locked that man’s sword. I must’ve overextended or sprained it. Also as my body’s racing blood and thoughts slowed to a crawl, I realized just how broken this girl’s spirit was. How nothing I said, while all within doctrine, was comforting in those moments after being preyed upon. We didn’t speak at all the entire walk back. Even wading through the cold river water didn’t bring forth a complaint or even a chilled sneeze. This too, was a burden carried. Not put upon by any god, the weight of an exhausted soul.
The sun’s rays had started creeping over the edge of the earth, but the corona of the sun itself was still below the horizon. In the reddish-purple morning I managed to get the girl home to her father before sunrise, as promised. He was sitting there, in the bar, waiting for her all night. Eyes so heavy I thought they might pull him to the floor. He looked up at us. His eyes looked at her first. Naked and wrapped in the garb of a foreign soldier. And then to me. I followed his gaze down and noticed for the first time that wine dark blood was dried on my habit. He burst alive to charge for his daughter and embrace her in a tight hug. I felt bile in my throat as I spoke this next part, “I need to speak with you, in private.”
His eyes wetted, “Surely you’ll allow me a moment to check over my daughter?”
I shook my head, “I… will need to skip town,” I said, wondering why I felt too guilty to stay, “but this will take only a moment.”
He nodded, kissed his daughter on the forehead, and said to her, “Go wait for me in your room. I’ll be up in a minute.”
She also nodded, hesitantly. And left us alone, leaving with a weight to her presence that made me feel like she didn’t know if I could be trusted alone with her father. When she finally closed the door to the lobby, I spoke silently. “You should insist to her that she attend Sunday masses.”
He gulped, “So she’s been tainted, then?”
I nodded, “It wasn’t her choice. None of it was. She will be forgiven more easily than most. She only needs to attend and she’ll be spiritually virgin again.”
He sighed his understanding, “I will make sure she attends.”
I raised a fixed eyebrow against him, “You will ‘insist’ but you will not ‘force’. She is currently in a place of doubt. If she comes to believe her god will not understand or allow her agency in her own actions, that will damage her soul. Especially in the way she has been tainted. Doctrine says that she’ll be okay if she takes time to heal before seeking forgiveness. She is not responsible for her sin, our lord will understand the time it takes for her to realize that her soul is still changed and corrupted by this regardless of whether or not she did it to herself. She’ll need rest and time to heal mentally before healing spiritually.”
His wetted eyes finally released a tear down his cheek as he grumbled, “I need to see my daughter. Thank you, Brother John, for bringing my girl back to me. I’ll… try to let her fly on her own wings. It will be harder now, so much harder, but I will try.”
I smiled at him, “Thank you Micheal, our lord looks kindly upon you two.”
He exited the bar, following after his daughter, and I took my leave. I hit the cobblestone road leaving town and reflected as I watched the gray stone fade into brown beaten dirt beneath my feet. Why had I felt guilty about staying in town? Was it my Lord commanding me to go find my next… victim? …Demon? …Case? Anyway, I don’t think so. It felt more like the imposing fear of law than anything divine. Surely I wouldn’t be arrested for the culling of foreign demons. Had my own conscience decided I had done something wrong? Maybe I should find myself a service to sit through. Surely I cannot feel guilty for the death of demons, what a terrible sin. Or maybe… it’s an unyielding kindness I cannot control. Before I knew it the day had passed, I hadn't even eaten and it was getting dark. I lit a fire on the side of the road and began a small snack of jerky and nuts I had stored in my pack. I lay out my bedroll and watched the starry heavens until my eyes shuddered closed. When I awoke I had found a traveling merchant and his horse had joined my camp. He was already preparing some kind of salted meat by the fire.
“Good morning, may the lord be with you.” I offered in way of greeting.
“And also with you, Brother.” he responded.
I came to sit across from him at the fire, “what had brought you to my camp at so odd an hour?”
He laughed, “I’m running late to the next stop, but it’s bad luck to pass by a man of the cloth. So I set up for a quick night in your camp.”
“Thank you kind sir.” I said.
“Would you do me the honor of sitting with me the rest of the way? The real deal is better than any wards or prayers I can muster to defend myself from the demons I might travel by.” He asked of me.
I laughed at his attempt at lighthearted humor, “Surely. My mission is to wander, so wherever you’re headed is where I’m meant to go.”
“Great. Once I’m done here I’ll hitch the horse and we’ll bump down to the next town by noon.”
I partook in a share of the cooked meats he prepared and sat idly in his cart while he prepared for us to leave. I pulled more jerky from my pack, intending to replenish what I may have lost by fasting lost in the gloom of yesterday. He hitched the horse, packed up his camp supplies, and checked his loaded cart before giving the reins a tug and letting the horse trot along down the path. At the first signs of movement I tented my hands and prayed for safety on behalf of the kind merchant, “Yyhael, defend this traveler and his party from wandering demons, and allow a swift and safe delivery to his destination. Physically and spiritually, Ynem.”
He looked over at me, “Thank you, Brother.”
I waved a hand, “Oh don’t mention it. It’s always nice to make the easy prayers.”
He questioned, “The easy prayers?”
I hesitantly remembered the burning bodies, “The other day I had to do a funeral. I was just passing by, though.”
His expression took upon gloomy understanding, “You must’ve been in town back there when they found the baker’s son then?”
I grew weary all of a sudden. My Lord must enjoy testing my spirit. “Yeah, you could say that…”
“Terrible thing, he was burnt to a crisp with two other bodies. No one knows who they were. They only identified him because of the chains he wore around his neck. The priest gave them to him personally.” the merchant explained.
The unidentified guilt in my chest grew anew. There were people in that village that surely knew it was me. And could tell the full story. They didn’t. Likely to protect the image of the Holy Lord’s patrons and servants. “May the lord be with him,” I said, resisting the urge to play my own part in the farce, but it was an honest blessing.
“The church intends to give a full service for all three men. Whoever they were, there’s nothing anyone can do that’s worth going out like that.” the merchant continued to prod at my conscience, unknowingly.
“It definitely is a lousy way to go,” once again carefully crafting my words against any lies.
The conversation shifted to more pleasant things after that, and by noon as promised we passed the threshold into the next village. I disembarked, tipped the man for the ride, and headed straight for the church. I was in urgent need of the Lord’s presence in my soul.