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For many years, Temenos dreamt every night. Usually, it was the same dream, endlessly repeating, as though trying to reinforce the lesson he wished he had learned sooner. But this night—his first in Stormhail—instead of recounting the day Roi left the church, never to return, his mind was consumed with the conversation he'd had with Crick only minutes before they'd parted ways for the evening.
"I simply wish to bring the truth to light," He'd said, the words sounding wispy and untethered in the snowy evening dreamscape his mind had created of Stormhail's streets. Temenos’ words held true; Roi had left him a puzzle, questions of his faith, and a sense of longing that never quite seemed to fade. But now, in the realm of sleep, the only thing that Temenos was able to focus on was the look of dissatisfaction on Crick's face when he'd told him to wait. He'd shown Crick how to doubt; that much was evident. That doubt was consuming him much the way that it had for the years it consumed the young inquisitor. But something in that gaze was quietly defiant in a way that he hadn't seen during the waking hours. As Crick descended into the darkness of the night, surely headed to his own stationed quarters, Temenos couldn't help but feel an incredible—and familiar—sense of dread fall over him, far colder than the snow even in the blissful hold of sleep.
—
…Te…menos…
…
Te…me…nos…
—
Temenos awoke with a start, a sharp inhalation of breath on his lips. Slowly, he sat up, head swimming with the abrupt awakening and an eerie sense that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Without missing a beat, the ever vigilant Osvald was awake as well; regarding him with a curious expression as he too, sat up in his own bed, just feet away. "Something wrong, Temenos?" He said, voice low and quiet from across the room. Temenos took a quick glance around. Neither of the others seemed to have been disturbed by his outburst.
Temenos let his familiar easy smile creep onto his face. "Just a nightmare, my dear Osvald. Nothing more." He said quietly, hoping not to make more of this than necessary. "I do believe that I should take a walk to clear my head, however." Osvald quirked an eyebrow. "I'm quite familiar with nightmares myself," He said, deep voice rumbling like thunder, folding his arms above the blanket the inn had provided him. Temenos was quickly reminded that Osvald's suffering was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced. When Osvald continued, he looked down at his hands, as though he were looking for something that wasn't there. "What I know about them is that sometimes, they're trying to tell you something."
"...I'll keep that in mind." Temenos said, fears nothing if not stoked by the ominous message from the scholar. He rose to his feet gently, footsteps light across the ground as he moved through the room. Just as he'd made it to the threshold of their shared room's door, he heard Osvald speak again. "If you're going out, we should go with you."
"I assure you, that's not necessary—"
"You're worried about something, Temenos. You might be able to hide it from the others, but there's no getting that past me." Osvald said, surprising Temenos momentarily, though he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that such an intelligent man had been able to figure him out so quickly. "If you're going out to do something, we're going with you. At least, I am. Don't know how Hikari and Partitio feel about losing their beauty sleep." Temenos laughed, though it held no real mirth. "I'm sure they don't truly need any of that kind of rest, but I don't wish to disturb them, nor you."
"I'm already up." Osvald said. "Might as well put the early start to a good use." Temenos sighed. That incredible stubbornness he'd come to understand against his own pragmatism was enough to give him a headache at times. "Alright," He said, conceding to himself that if he were to go check something out, it would be foolish to go alone, "I suppose it couldn't hurt."
"It's settled, then."
Temenos, despite himself, tensed upon hearing Partitio's drawl from the bed across from his own, and quickly turned to the sound. Apparently, so had Osvald, because Partitio sat up and responded with: "What? Y'all ain't as quiet as ya think y'are."
"No, none of you are," Hikari cut in sleepily, also sitting up. "Temenos, you should know by now that we wouldn’t let you do this alone."
It involved less people to go it alone , Temenos thought. And usually, it meant that no one would be in the way of his investigations. But throughout this journey he'd witnessed the determination that his allies all held for their own lofty goals, and admitted to himself that their assistance was not only helpful, but downright necessary. He doubted that he would've survived the confrontation with Vados back on the Sacred Guard's ship in Canalbrine had they not been there with him.
The...Sacred Guard's ship. Where Vados had fled after his attempted murder of Hermes. Why, of all places, would he have run there? Surely he knew that he was to be imprisoned for his crimes, for the murder of three different people; there was no reason for him to have run there, unless there was—
Unless there was some perceived safety in the Guard for Vados that Temenos wasn’t aware of. He’d suspected them all along, of course, but—
A biting lance of panic jolted through Temenos. Crick had been upset earlier, something that Temenos had failed to register at the time; perhaps his frustrations came from the lack of information, or perhaps at how quickly and strongly his faith had been shaken. Either way, the place he would've gone to look would be the headquarters, where Temenos was now certain wasn't safe.
"...We must go—" He cut himself off, surprised to see that the others were in front of him, just outside the door, already waiting. He must have been lost in thought again. Osvald smirked at him from underneath his unkempt beard. "You're just figuring that out now? What happened to our clever cleric?"
Temenos would've had half a mind to tease and jest back at the older man had he not been in such a hurry. As such, he simply hummed out his response and quickly led his party down the stairs, down into the foyer of the inn. He hoped that their quick departure hadn't woken the women in their group. The group’s departure at such an hour earned the group a strange look from the innkeeper, and soon they were back out into the cold.
Stormhail's streets were hardly welcoming during the day, but at night they were downright oppressive, not made any less so by the imposing walls that surrounded the city. The dim lights of houses were the only guide through the veritable blizzard that raged throughout. The brightest lights, though, were the ones illuminating the Sacred Guard headquarters, where he was sure that Crick—his dear, idealistic Crick—had gone in search of answers. To what end, Temenos wasn't exactly sure yet. He was certain, though, that Crick had come to a similar conclusion that he had; that the Sacred Guard was hiding something far larger than either of them had imagined.
"Brrrr. Chilllll-ey," Quipped Partitio with an exaggerated shiver, in a sure effort to bring some much desired levity to this situation. "Eastern continent folks sure know how to cool things down."
"This cold is nothing compared to Frigit Isle," Osvald responded. "Had it not been for…unforseen circumstances, I could never have even hoped to reach Cape Cold without freezing to death either on the island itself or in the waters surrounding it."
"Ku never experienced such harsh winters." Hikari said plainly, "But the summers could be equally intense."
“Hoo-ey did Oresrush get hot. Felt like the whole town was cookin’ when things were at their peak!”
The attempts at conversation were appreciated right up until Temenos caught sight of something in the distance, blurry white in the light of his lantern. A figure, slowly walking towards them. "Quiet," He snapped, all-too-aware of the newly present danger. "We don't want to attract any attention." The blizzard raged on, leaving the figure obscured. Temenos felt a feeling he often tried to hide well up to the surface in him…a fear that he tried to keep buried deep. His own death would well and truly mean that the truth of the Pontiff's death would never be revealed, nor Roi's disappearance, and as such he felt much riding on his shoulders. He was more than aware of the way this must have made him appear to the others; with his typical self-assuredness and lackadaisical smile gone, he was sure the Temenos they knew appeared a different person entirely.
The wind howled, and with it carried a voice, no louder than a whisper.
"...Te…menos…"
The voice called out to him, hoarse, surely belonging to the shambling figure slowly shuffling towards them. Hours passed by in mere seconds as Temenos took a cautious but urgent step forward, his trembling hand shaking the lantern's light and scattering the firelight askew onto the stones. Though, in this shuddering glow, Temenos was finally able to get a glimpse.
"...Crick—?" He tested, though it couldn't be. The person stumbling forward, ash-blond hair matted to his forehead with blood and sweat couldn't be Crick. His armor, sliced through and dripping with maroon, couldn't belong to the very same Sanctum Knight that he'd seen only hours before. Those eyes, affixed to Temenos, deadened but carrying a determination fierce enough to shake the bravest of soldiers, could never be the same bright, naive eyes that Temenos had guided to the cathedral the first time they met. "Te…me…nos…?"
Only they were, and the dread that had been building in Temenos' core exploded in his chest as Crick buckled, eyes drifting shut, and fell onto his front with no more fanfare than the unceremonious clink of metal clashing against the ground, a far-too copious amount of blood splashing against stone. Temenos’ breath caught in his throat, fighting back the urge to cry out for him.
His legs moved before his mind could process his terror, and he was on the ground in front of the man in seconds. "Crick—" He managed, voice strangled. His hands shook both from fear and cold as he desperately summoned magic to his fingertips. Crick did not respond. That fact, somehow, above all else, scared Temenos the most. Footsteps behind him nearly made him jump out of his skin, head whirling to face whoever it was, but Partitio's hand on his shoulder grounded him—tethered him—for just long enough to see that his party had simply joined him, kneeling beside the two of them. Hikari made quick work of flipping Crick over onto his back as gently as he could manage, looking Temenos in the eye expectantly. Temenos nodded. His hands still shook terribly with the action, the familiar light of his healing magic shuddering the same way the lantern-light had a moment ago a cruel reminder of just how fast the situation had changed for the worse. The feel of the frigid metal of Crick's breastplate certainly didn't help matters, but it was nice to know that even if he felt and looked like a mere phantom, the newly-anointed knight was still physically there, for better or for worse.
He pumped all of the light magic he could manage to the surface, the comforting light warming the area with its glow. But Crick's condition didn't look any better to him. "Damn it—" He cursed, willing everything in him to just do something. "Damnit—!" If he'd only—
Partitio's hand tightened on his shoulder. "It's enough, Temenos!" He said, voice sharp. "You'll pass out that way." Temenos’ face tightened.
"I—"
"He looks better," Osvald interrupted coolly. "We need to get ourselves out of the cold if we're to do anything more." Temenos did his best to steady himself momentarily. "Right," He said, now conscious of just how labored his own breathing had become. "Right."
Osvald and Hikari wasted no time hoisting Crick up between the two of them. Partitio hurried ahead of the group, probably to go warn the poor innkeeper of the sight they were about to be. And Temenos, despite Partitio's warning, kept a hand over Crick's chest, silently still casting in hopes of keeping him alive. If he even was still alive. It exhausted him—if he concentrated, he could feel the dull thrum of his overexertion growing stronger and stronger in his body—and he knew that it was likely a fruitless effort, but what could he possibly do else for Crick in this moment, if not to simply have a hand on him? What could he possibly do for him to make up for the countless debts that he had accrued?
As they stepped through the doorway back into the inn, the innkeeper shot them a forced smile, as though Partitio had in fact warned him of the coming scene. He, gracefully, said nothing as Osvald gave him a curt nod and began up the stairs, with Hikari supporting the brunt of Crick's weight as they took him up the stairs as best they could. Partitio had already opened their door, allowing the five of them to get into the room without any more fuss. As Hikari spun the corner into the room, jostling the man slightly, a small sheet of paper fluttered to the floor, crumpled and stained with blood. Temenos pocketed it without a word, opting to read it later in favor of immediately sitting next to where they'd gently placed Crick on Temenos' bed, where the minute rise and fall of Crick’s armor was the only indication that he still lived.
"I'll go get Castti," Hikari said, leaving with an urgency that Temenos appreciated. Osvald looked at Temenos with something in his eyes that he didn't understand. "Help me get this armor off of him." Temenos nodded numbly, beginning to undo the straps of Crick's complicated pauldrons and plated steel.
How could this have happened? How could he have been so foolish as to drag Crick into his own mess? During their conversation the previous evening, he'd mentioned his similarities to Roi; right now, Temenos feared they were even more alike than even he had previously thought. After all, Roi had completely vanished as the price for his information. All Temenos could think about was that Crick was about to meet a similar fate. Almost sickeningly similar to when they'd first met, he'd been guided by Temenos directly into grave danger. His blood was on Temenos’ hands. Before, that had been purely metaphorical—now, glancing down at his hands, it had become far, far more real than that.
The armor was off, and Temenos distantly realized that he'd never seen Crick without it. Even not donning armor, Crick was a strong young man, built well from years of training. Even so, Temenos' hands went to his chest, overtop of his now-tattered tunic, using up more of his energy to heal as much as he could before Castti was able to get there. He felt something press into the side of his face, his eyes glancing to see Osvald holding a plum up to him. "Eat this if you want to keep going," He said. "I won't lie and say it's the smart thing to do, because Partitio is right and you look like you're going to fall over, but. I…understand where you’re coming from." Partitio, just behind Osvald and looking anxiously over at the scene, frowned, but didn't say anything. Temenos took one of his hands off of Crick's body and took the plum from Osvald, taking a large bite of it. Immediately, he felt a surge of energy, and the low glow emanating from his hands increased in intensity. "...Thank you." He said shortly, returning his attention to Crick, doing his best to ignore the pungent scent of his blood in the air, pointedly looking away from his blood-stained fingers and trying to forget how warm that it felt compared to the winds outside.
The door burst open a moment later, and Castti was at the bedside in a flash. "What happened," She breathed out, looking much like she'd been put through a tempest. “I’m not certain. But it's obvious he’s been attacked.” Temenos said, “With what seems to be a longsword.” As Castti was in the process of taking out her materials, she briefly turned her eyes on Temenos. “Do you know how long ago this occurred?”
“Unfortunately, not a clue,” Osvald piped up as he began to walk towards the door, “We came across him as he was walking through the streets, from the direction of the Sacred Guard headquarters.” Castti pursed her lips as she examined Crick, hands running across the plane of his chest and stomach, where the worst of the wounds lay. “...It’s good you found him when you did. Any longer and he probably would have died out there from the combination of the blood loss and hypothermia. He’s freezing.” Knowing it was one thing, but hearing it directly from an apothecary was another thing entirely. Temenos distantly felt himself shudder slightly, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea, and hoped that it was subtle enough that the others hadn’t taken notice.
Castti looked at him with sympathy in her eyes—she’d definitely seen him—before she gingerly pulled Crick’s torn, bloodied shirt up so she could inspect the wounds. The angry red of blood and lacerations ran up underneath, the wounds ranging from small nicks to a large, gaping slash that ran almost all the way up his torso that Temenos almost couldn’t bear to look at. In an eerie way, his wounds invoked the same sense of fear that had arisen in him the day that the Pontiff had passed. Though the claw marks from the Felvarg were more violent, tearing through Pontiff Jorg’s clothes and flesh and leaving pure carnage in its wake, these were clean and calculated. This was no senseless massacre—this was planned. Someone had planned to kill Crick. Crick Wellsley , one of the finest men he had ever known.
Castti's hand came to rest on Temenos', and he realized that without thinking about it, it had come back to rest on Crick's chest again, deliberately having avoided the parts stained red. No magic this time, just a gentle touch that he was certain he couldn't possibly feel in that death-like state. "Temenos," She started, and for a terrible second, the irrational part of Temenos' mind screeched at him that she was about to tell him that it was too late. He held his tongue, pointedly staring at nothing, and she continued. "Are you alright?"
The question surprised him more than anything, and he was certain that his face showed it for the millisecond that caught him off guard. Castti was kind, unbelievably so given her circumstances, but to go so far as to...
"Of course, dear," He said, slipping back into the calm he was so used to. "I suppose you could understand me being worried about him, though."
"Yes, of course, I..." She trailed off. "...I just thought...you look terribly exhausted."
He was, truthfully. His sleep, interrupted, had left him tired out. The trip into Stormhail the previous day had been taxing on the group as a whole, and though Osvald attempted to keep them all warm with his fire magic, there was only so much to do to stave off such vicious, biting wind and snow. But perhaps Castti was speaking of a different type of exhaustion; one that also wouldn't be incorrect to assume of. Temenos, though this investigation of the members of the faith had been years of his life in the making, couldn't help but want for nothing more than to return to Flamechurch. To return to the times before Roi had fled from him, and to read his lines incorrectly for children to laugh at him. But it was exactly that longing for those times that had pushed him forward. After all, no matter what he'd wanted, Roi was gone. But Crick…for the time being, Crick was miraculously still here.
"I am a bit tired, yes," He said. "Though it's nothing that a good night's rest can't fix."
"You should sleep then," Castti insisted. "I can take care of him. You can trust me."
Of course he trusted Castti. When it came to medical expertise, no one else compared. And in the hands of such a kind individual, she made for a fantastic healer. But when it came to this...
"It's alright," He said. "I think…I shall stay around and make sure that he's alright." Castti regarded him with gentle understanding, and a smile that held no ill will of any sort. "Of course," She said quietly, "You can help me tend to his wounds. Your magic will make the process easier."
Temenos smiled again, this time genuinely. "Thank you, Castti."
—
The process of dressing and healing Crick’s wounds was a long and arduous process. Temenos watched Castti throughout the night, offering his assistance when he could, though he knew that it wasn’t much altogether. A slight lift of Crick’s body to allow her hands to wrap bandages around him, a hand to hold a tincture she’d mixed, or a slight push of healing magic ‘to minimize any pain this might put him in’, she’d said, before applying a strange green paste to the wound that nearly killed him. Crick let out a soft groan during that, and though it wasn’t much, the fact that he’d responded at all nearly made Temenos cry out in relief.
“He must be special to you,” Castti said. “I…though I admit I can’t remember much, I know, of course, what that can look like.”
“I do,” He said, though admittedly leaving out to what extent he did. Along this journey, Temenos had barely realized how close that Crick had become to his heart. He’d thought that after Roi was gone, he would never let anyone that close to him again. Crick had snuck up on him without his knowledge, it seemed. “He’s been an invaluable ally during my mission.”
Castti’s smile in response held an air of something, a sense that she thought she knew something that he didn’t, which was wholly untrue. He knew very well what the pit of grief in his stomach when he thought Crick might’ve been gone for good meant; knew exactly what his desire to protect Crick instead of pursuing this new mystery said about how he felt. To his discomfort, he could even feel it bloom on his face when Crick was the one protecting him from harm. A similar heat that he could feel just below his skin right now. He willed it away. Now simply wasn’t the time.
His hands were guided away from their place on his lap. “Let me wash your hands,” Castti said gently. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Crick’s blood was still there. She grabbed a small rag from her pouch, gently wetting it in the pail she had next to bed that she’d used to clean Crick up. Her hands tenderly and serenely wiped away the evidence of the horror that Temenos had witnessed, though he doubted the evidence left on his mind would fade anytime soon. When he shut his eyes, all he could see was Crick’s face, pale and pallid as he slowly bled out in the snow, or the rended flesh underneath his armor. What would have happened if Temenos hadn’t dreamed of him that night? Would Crick have slowly succumbed to the cold, wondering whether or not Temenos even knew? It was haunting. “There,” Castti said, “Much better.”
"...He's going to be alright?" He asked. Castti nodded. "His injuries were severe, but with time and rest he will recover." It was something he already knew; the moment that Castti was brought in, he knew that she would be able to help. And with Crick now…stable, Temenos felt a sense of relief stronger than any magic fall over him.
Castti gingerly got up from her place next to Temenos. “...I’ll leave you alone for a moment.” She said. Temenos nodded slowly, thankfully. The door to the room shut with a quiet click, and suddenly, Temenos was alone again. Truly alone.
The glow of morning was beginning to come in through the windows, peeking through the curtains in small white rays. No sun, of course, not here in the always snowy city, but daylight, at least. In the daylight, Temenos remembered the bloodstained paper that Crick had dropped, and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket, unfurling it, attempting not to crumple or tear it any further.
"Surrender not unto silent dusk…for the light shall fade." Temenos said to himself, “And soon, night shall fall…” Words from the Book of Night that he'd discovered from visiting the Kal ruins…as well as something that Vados had said to them shortly before being taken into custody…he had to investigate this further. This scrap of paper was the final piece in a puzzle that Temenos had been waiting years upon years to solve. All that was left now was to put the pieces into place.
The thing to break him out of his thoughts was only the slightest touch of his hand. For a moment, he thought that perhaps Castti or one of the others had come back into the room to retrieve him for something, but instead found himself looking up at Crick, whose hand had moved up in sleep to gently brush his own. Feeling more than a little sentimental, Temenos laced his fingers around the sleeping knight’s hand. “I will figure this out for the both of us, lamb.” He said, unable to hide that impossible fondness in both his voice and his smile. He knew it wouldn’t be heard, nor seen, so it would be a secret he could keep…he always was good at keeping his secrets.
—
Temenos stepped into the foyer of the inn, standing as tall as he could manage both physically and metaphorically. The rest of the group was already there. “Is your friend going to be ok?!” Ochette blurted out, earning her sharp glances from Throné and Osvald. “Yes, he’s…he’s peacefully sleeping for the time being.” He said. Castti sighed. “Ochette, I already told you that…”
“Yeah but Temenos was up there with him for a loooong time. I didn’t know if something might’ve happened while you were gone!” Hikari smiled sympathetically at Temenos. Putting on a face was easier now than it had been a few minutes ago, and he smiled in turn. “Ochette, thank you for your concern,” Temenos said, turning to Ochette and patting her head. He lifted his eyes to the rest of the party. “I appreciate you all helping me with this.”
“Of course, Temenos.” Agnea said. “It would be too cruel for Crick to be killed. He’s just…too nice for that.” Temenos chuckled softly to himself. “I have to agree, though…sometimes his words to me can definitely be a bit harsh.”
“Only because you deserve them,” Offered Throné. “You can be a real bastard to him sometimes.” That drew a full laugh out of him. “Yes, of course, of course. Perhaps if he weren’t so entertaining to tease…” As he trailed off, a silence fell over the group, harsh and somber, as if they all remembered what the circumstances were at the exact same time. “...I’m planning on investigating the Sacred Guard headquarters today.” Temenos said, back to business. “It was what I had planned on doing last night before we ran into Crick.”
“I’ll go with you,” Hikari cut in immediately. “The idea of you going there alone rubs me the wrong way.” Temenos smiled bleakly. “Yes, of course. Going alone…that would be suicide. I suspect that if they wanted Crick dead, then the person who made him doubt them in the first place would definitely be on their list. In fact, I had planned on asking a few of you to accompany me…as well as asking a few to stay behind…”
“...Just in case whoever attacked him wanted to finish the job.” Osvald said, grim. Temenos nodded once again, before catching sight of Castti looking around at the group. “Well, at the very least I’ll be staying. Without Temenos here, should something happen, we’ll need some way of healing ourselves. I can help.”
“Ooh, wait, actually, I have a great idea!” Agnea cut in. “How about the four of us ,” She said, quickly pointing her gaze at the other women, “Stay in, and the guys can go search. You all were already out doing that last night, and we don’t really know all that much about the situation. It just makes sense.” Throné scoffed lightly. “Agnea, be honest.” She said, smiling wickedly at her, “Do you just want to have ourselves a little ‘girl’s day’?” Agnea wilted underneath Throné’s gaze, and she looked at the floor for a moment. “Well, I won’t deny it and say that isn’t a part of it…” She said. “But…I really want to make sure that Crick is ok. Any baddies coming into the room will quickly be tasting a kick to the mouth! And some knives and arrows too!” Ochette grinned. “Mahina and I will make sure any jerks get their due if they try to hurt Temenos’ friend!”
Throné rolled her eyes, but looked appraisingly at Temenos as if to ask him if it was alright. His smile back at them was genuine, a plan already forming behind it. “Yes, I do believe that’s the best course of action.” He said, “Hikari, Osvald, Partitio and I already have some idea of what may be transpiring, so leaving the ladies with Crick may be the best way to keep him safe while minimizing the amount of time this may take.”
“Great, it’s settled then!” Ochette said. “If he wakes up while you all are gone, I’ll have some meat ready for him. It’ll help him get back on his feet lightning fast, guaranteed.” Castti frowned. “No, Ochette, you’re not feeding a sick person raw meat.” She said, and Ochette pouted. “I never said it’d be raw…plus, it’s waaaaay healthier for you that way than burning it black…”
“Anyways,” Agnea said, cutting Ochette and Castti off from another argument about the preparation of meat, “We’ll keep Crick safe and help Castti with anything she might need while you’re all gone.” She said. Her expression suddenly soured. “...And you make sure whoever did this to him pays .” The intensity from her was a bit surprising, considering the first time that Temenos had met the young girl, she’d been nothing but a ball of pure positive energy. But he chuckled again, the laugh just as dark as Agnea’s expression. "I don’t intend for it to come to blows, of course, but should it come to that…I will spare no mercy.”
Hikari patted on the sheath of his katana. “You have us at your side, Temenos. When you say the word…”
“Of course, Hikari. Well, I do believe we should be going then,” Temenos said. “I’ll lead the way.” Ochette bounded up the stairs behind him, shouting: “Good luck!” Agnea wasn’t far behind, Castti in tow, who both gave their affirmations as well. Throné clapped a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing as she joined the girls upstairs.
“...Alright, then. Off we go.”
The streets, though lighter and more bustling during the daytime, now held a sense of unease. Someone in the Guard wanted him dead—by extension, their whole group. For all Temenos’ knowledge, it could be any single one of the knights patrolling the town, all too eager to suddenly swing a sword and end him at the slightest indication. The inn wasn’t far from the headquarters, thankfully; that fact alone was the reason Crick was even still alive as of now, and it made the trip short and sweet.
As they stepped into the headquarters themselves, Temenos stopped just inside. It was time to truly put his mind to this. “The truth lies in the Flame,” He mumbled to himself, and the world fell away into mere shapes and concepts, as they always did.
The first place he made his way to was the archives. The paper in his hand suggested he’d found something in a book, after all. Given the scrap of paper in his hand, he must have been poring over something in this room, He thought to himself. Whatever he’d found, those words from the Book of Night…they implied something Temenos wasn’t quite ready to think about yet. Something was very wrong. Very wrong. An upside down book, though, caught his eye before he could think too hard about that. Registering the title as The Creation of Heaven and Earth, he picked it up to glance at the page that had been opened for him. Clearly Crick’s doing. Clever lamb. Instead, though, his eye caught something on the shelf , words scribbled hastily into the old wood. Break the earth’s shackles, and look to the heavens…
Temenos was surprised again out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder. “So we should look somewhere upwards, right?” Partitio said, and Temenos came to the realization that he was speaking all of this aloud. Upwards… Temenos thought, this time certain he wasn’t speaking. “Yes,” He said. “But not here. Come along.”
He strode out of the archive, the others in tow. Upon the way, he earned his share of suspicious looks from several Guard members and Sanctum Knights, as well as a few sour ones. Perhaps they had heard of what had happened to Crick. In spite of how he felt about them as a whole, he knew that not all of them could be corrupt, and he felt sympathy for the ones who simply wanted to help people and do good, just as Crick did, naive as it was.
The beautiful stained glass at the back of the room cast pockets and waves of color across the entire headquarters. It reminded Temenos of the stained glass in the Cathedral back in Flamechurch, now a sour one remembering the shards of colored glass that surrounded the Pontiff’s body. It was a truly stunning place, and in looking over the room, Temenos’ eye went to a ladder; a ladder that went all the way up to the stone rafters of the building where chandeliers and banners were hung. “The heavens,” He said. “Up there.”
Temenos went up the ladder first, still leading the way for his allies, with Hikari not far behind. Partitio and Osvald brought up the rear. On the rafters, Temenos found himself rather dizzy looking down, but kept his eyes up in front of him, slowly maneuvering them over the rafters to investigate. To his amusement, once they were atop the first of the many beans, he felt Hikari's hand clamp around his free one. "...Is our favorite warrior afraid of heights?" He teased, glad to have something light and nice to tether to in the midst of all of this darkness. "...This is dangerous, that's all." Hikari said, and though Temenos couldn't see his face, he knew that it must have been the same crimson as his garb. That hand stayed glued to his right up until Temenos stumbled upon something on the beam nearest to the back of the building. A…mechanism? He thought. Well, surely this must have something to do with this, since Crick insisted on looking to the heavens.
With a short click, the mechanism slid into place, and a dull noise sounded from below, and Temenos took Hikari’s hand once more. “I suppose we have our answer, then.” Osvald said gruffly. Hikari’s hand clenched slightly. “...Whatever it is, we can get down from here now…right, Temenos?” Temenos squeezed back, a show of support that he hoped Hikari could appreciate. “Yes, of course. Whatever we’ve found, we’ve certainly exhausted the need to be up here for any longer. Osvald, would you lead us back down?” Osvald nodded. Partitio followed behind him, looking surprisingly at ease for being so high up with nothing to stop a fall. Hikari, though he was now leading Temenos, never let go of his hand until they were both on the ground, where he smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” He said quietly, letting the matter settle from there.
“Now, if I were a secret thing, where would I be,” Partitio said, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “Somewhere secret, that’s fer sure.”
“No, I know now,” Temenos said, grinning and waving his hand in the direction of the stained glass window. At the bottom of the glass, two panels were moved slightly ajar. “If I were a secret, I would hide somewhere beautiful.”
“Hm. Clever.” Osvald said, looking closer to impressed than usual. “Welp, that’s our quarry, ain’t it?” Partitio said, attempting to sneak a peek at what was behind the false window, “Whatever it is yer pal Crick wanted us to find, it’s gotta be in there.”
"Yes," Temenos said, already making his way to the newly opened passageway, "That is where we will find the truth." He quickly glanced around. By some miracle, the Sanctum Knights had reduced in number enough for them to slip by unnoticed—perhaps rumors of Crick’s attack had them stepping up patrols out in the streets. Surely someone had seen them rescue him. Hypocrites, Temenos thought as they walked, though that assumption was hardly fair. Most of the Knights, he was sure, were good people. They probably knew nothing of any sort about any corruption—corruption of which he himself was now certain of.
Stepping through the door revealed by the glass was like nothing Temenos could have ever expected. The sprawling ruins—that had been here since before the building’s conception, unbeknownst to most—were huge. Huge, illuminated by ominous orange torchlight, and practically teeming with monsters. Monsters who were not fond of being disturbed, if their reactions were anything to go off of. Temenos felt himself withering under the strain of consistently healing the party, even though he attempted to be conscious of how much magic he was using. More plums were unceremoniously thrown his way. If the circumstances were different, he would definitely have found some humor in the amount of fruit he was practically being forced to eat.
“You really are incredible, Crick,” Temenos said under his breath during one of those breaks, watching the fire cast dancing shadows across the dilapidated walls, “A true knight, indeed. No ordinary man would have noticed any of this.”
After rising and continuing their journey, Temenos caught sight of a chamber in the distance, old wood and paper cast alight now only by the sconces on the walls, but by eerie old candelabras and melting piles of wax that must have been candles as some point but were too far gone to be considered them anymore. Bookshelves…? Temenos thought. He picked up his pace, the team increasing theirs in turn as he charged forward, knowing that time truly was of the essence here.
Stepping into the dilapidated chamber was like nothing Temenos could have imagined when he set out on this journey for truth only a few weeks ago…back in Flamechurch, when everything was simple. Felt simple, at least. It was a false simplicity; a facade of normalcy that felt obvious to him now that he’d caught onto the trail of lies that had been led out for him. Turning his attention back to the present, he took in his surroundings.
“Forbidden tomes,” Osvald said, getting to it before he could. “All of them.”
“I reckon you can’t have read all of those titles that quick, Mr. Osvald!” Partitio said, looking fairly spooked, hanging to Hikari’s side, who, to his credit, looked perturbed but not particularly scared.
“No, but considering what we’re looking at, it would be a fair guess.” Osvald responded. “...And the, well, atmospheric lighting isn’t helping the case.”
“All of these tomes…and this altar…all erased from history,” Temenos mumbled. “ What is their aim?”
“Ah, the Pontiff’s personal hound must know how to track a scent, hm?”
A female voice from closer to the entrance forced the group to spin towards it. Temenos felt his jaw set into place as… Deputy Cubaryi stepped into view. His hands instinctively clamped around the Staff of Judgement. Osvald pulled Hikari and Partitio back up a few steps out of her way, only a step behind Temenos, as she calmly made her way up the stairs to stand in front of the altar.
“...Crick knew too much.” She said, placing a calloused hand on the altar. Temenos bristled slightly as the wind kicked up from her walking caught on the bottom of his robe. “He was a fool to bring you into this. To continue this little investigation…” The cleric let her continue, biding his time, though it brought him no joy to find his suspicions confirmed. His teeth clenched behind tightened lips, while Cubaryi’s lips curled up into a vile smirk. “...An investigation that brought him to the Book of Night…and consequently, to his grave.”
Temenos quickly went over what he knew. The Sacred Guard knew that Crick had been attacked, at least in some capacity. Someone in the Knights must have seen Crick stumbling around in the streets. But for Cubaryi to think he was dead …Well, that gave him some leverage.
“And the one who struck him down? Someone you know quite well.” As Cubayri so kindly put the scene together for him, Temenos felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the gravity of who had attacked Crick in the first place. Long, bright white hair, and a sword known to have struck down hundreds if not thousands of enemies…it could only be—
“Captain Kaldena.” Temenos refused to let this woman have the satisfaction of spelling the whole situation to him. If he could even take away a shred of her smug delight, it would be enough. This only seemed to light her grin up even further, however. She let out a laugh, it echoing in the wide expanse of the ruined shrine. “So you understand, oh Inquisitor ,” She said. “You are smart indeed. It’s no surprise you were chosen as the Pontiff’s dog, is it?” That smile never seemed to fade, only seemed to grow in strength the longer she continued. “Then you understand what’s about to happen. You understand we must put an end to you, just like we did your little helper.”
Temenos let nothing slip free from his lips, despite his want to rub it in her face that Crick was not , in fact, as gone as she wanted him to be. He just let her continue, even though it drove hot nails into his spine to let her brag.
“He wasn’t an easy kill, I’ll give him that. For the captain to have to intervene…regardless, he was a fool, the same as you. Your pesky, perverse sense of justice has led you here, Temenos, in defiance of the gods!” Her face twisted up into manic delight as she, to his disgust and horror, began to laugh, turning away for a moment and taking another step away. “And so, I am here to deliver divine punishment!”
Temenos felt true malice well up inside him, something he was sure she could see on his face as she turned back to face him, her arm already going for the sword at her side. Were he less furious, he would have had half a mind to curb his emotions. He knew, really, that letting them show would only let her get the upper hand on him. Finally, though, Temenos let himself speak.
“...Where is she?” He said lowly, bringing up and brandishing his staff at her slightly.
“Oh? Is that anger I see in your eyes? How unusual for you, hound.” She said, “...Does it hurt?” She asked, “To know that your cute little assistant’s been killed?”
Temenos didn’t give in to her bait, choosing to stay silent. She rolled her eyes at him.
“The captain is already gone. She has other matters to attend to.” She shook her head. “And that’s all you need to know.”
For a moment, panic welled up in him again. Kaldena’s ‘other matters’, of course, could be to finish the job that she started, and he feared for the women and Crick, unaware back at the inn. He remembered, though—To Cubaryi’s knowledge, Crick was already dead. If Cubaryi thought that, then it was highly likely that Kaldena also thought the same.
Ironic, Temenos thought, That she calls me a dog when she caters to that woman’s every whim.
“Fine then,” He said coolly, “Seal your lips, you so-called messenger of the divine.”
She huffed at him. “...Kaldena herself ordered you killed, you know.” She said, drawing her blade. It flashed underneath the light of the candelabra nearest her. “I believe her words were: ‘bring the hound to heel.’”
Temenos sneered at her. He knew it would come to this. For once, he wasn’t annoyed that it had. “So be it.” He said, unable to hide a livid smile of his own now. Behind him, he heard Hikari draw his own blade, and Partitio stomp the heel of his spear against the ground. “...Then I hope that whatever gods you believe in believe in forgiveness, Cubaryi.”
—
The battle was long. As much as Temenos would’ve loved to claim that he ground her into the dirt with righteous rage and fury, he couldn’t. She was strong. Strong enough to bring the group to their knees all on her own a few times. Miraculously, though, after wearing her down for long enough, she stumbled. As another burst of light rising from the ground caught her in its wake, she cried out loudly and fell to her knees, clinging to her sword for leverage. Her pestilent shield dropped, and she glared up at them. Temenos spent no time walking over closer to her, confident that she wouldn't be able to attack him now.
"Does your superior," He said, still holding his staff in front of him just in case she tried anything, "Intend to use that power to bring darkness upon the land? Is that her play?" Cubaryi was loyal even to her deathbed, though; her answer to that was a laugh—albeit significantly less mirthful than her earlier ones when she thought she had the upper hand.
"Go to hell," She said laboriously, "...That's…your answer."
She slumped to the ground, defeated. And likely dead, if the abrupt stillness of her body was anything to go off of.
Temenos let out a shuddering breath he'd been holding since even before the battle began. "...Before I do, you will atone for your sins." His allies were at his side again as he felt a sudden weakness go through him. Hikari was more than fast enough to catch him, having Temenos lean on his shoulder for a moment.
"Are you alright, Temenos?" He asked, tone clearly measured. "She…said some concerning things."
"She is— was —a liar." He said, quickly dusting himself off and putting on a smile. "She didn't know that Crick is alive, meaning that everything she said means nothing to me." A complete lie, Temenos thought. He'd been more affected by her words than he wanted to admit. The very idea of the events she described transpiring had incensed him to an anger he didn't often feel. He rose to his feet completely now. Osvald nodded at him, as though he had read his mind. He supposed that the scholar hellbent on revenge would understand that feeling all too well.
"Well, it's over," Partitio said, uncharacteristically quiet. "...Now can we get out of this dang creepy place?"
"Of course, of course," Temenos said with a small smile. It was a small comfort, but his allies—his friends —ensured that the aloneness didn't swallow him completely whole.
Walking back through the shrine where Crick had almost met his gruesome fate felt surreal. Walking through the streets, somehow numb to the gripping cold felt surreal as well. Stepping back into the inn itself felt unreal . The innkeeper regarded them with a tight smile. Graciously, he said nothing. Hikari and Partitio slumped down together across from one another at a table, clearly having taken the brunt of Cubaryi’s attacks from slashing and piercing her shield. Osvald clapped Temenos on the back, which was something that he was finding his teammates tended to do when someone seemed down.
"I'm going into town to get supplies." He said. "Don't worry about me. Anyone who tests me will be incinerated. Promise." Temenos knew he trusted Osvald at this point, because instead of that statement sounding terrifying, it sounded fairly comforting.
"Don't stay out too long," Temenos said. Even he could hear the tiredness in his own voice. Osvald regarded him with another curt nod before disappearing back out into the blinding white of the storm outside.
“We’re gonna stay down here for a spell,” Partitio said. Temenos spun to face him. Him and Hikari looked just as exhausted as he felt, and he felt a twinge of guilt pass through him. “But in a bit me and ‘Kari will probably go down to the tavern. We got some things to chat about, right?” Partitio leaned across the table to shake Hikari by the shoulder with a wide smile, who in turn flushed red. Temenos couldn’t help but think that it could be in regards to a certain dancer… or a certain merchant that was currently jostling him hard enough to make the table shake. Or both. Who knew? Regardless, Temenos chuckled. “Of course. Drink up, we’ve got at least something to celebrate, after all.”
“You planning on payin’ Crick a visit?” Partitio asked. “Yes, I believe I will,” Temenos said. “You boys have fun. Don’t get into too much trouble, ok?” If Hikari could turn any redder, Temenos was certain that he would, while Partitio just laughed the statement off. Temenos quietly walked over to the staircase leading up to their rooms.
The last time he’d been up here, he’d been covered in blood. Though washed clean of the blood, Temenos wasn’t free of the feelings it had brought to him. His hand, despite himself knowing how ridiculous it was, trembled a bit around the doorknob. He turned it.
“—should really see how Temenos dances, he’s actually a natural!” Agnea’s voice was the one to greet him as he slowly opened the door. “A-Ah, I’m fairly certain that I really don’t .” Came the response. A male voice. Crick’s voice. He stepped into the room as quietly as possible. “No, really,” Throné’s deadpan voice cut in. “He’s quite the performer.” Temenos could hear the tease in her voice, and struggled not to laugh along with the others as he stepped into the threshold of the room for everyone to see.
“You flatter me,” He said with an easy smile. “I’m truly nothing special.”
“Temenos!” Ochette said, flying from her seat to run and hug him. Throughout the journey together, he’d grown used to her casual affections, and wrapped his own arms around her as well. “Did everything go ok?!”
“...Yes.” He said, deciding not to go too far into it for the moment. From what it looked like, Crick hadn’t woken up too long ago, and was leaning back into the wall, breathing still a little labored. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
His eyes met Crick’s. There was a lot to say between them, clearly. Castti quietly scanned the room. “Alright, girls,” She said, “I think we should let these two have some time alone.” Ochette whirled to face her indignantly. “Aww, but I had some questions I wanted to ask him!” She cried, “Like how he and Temenos met and stuff—”
“—And you can ask them another time ,” Castti said, gazing sternly at the short beastling girl with an expression that clearly said do not do this right now. It was so fantastically motherly of her that Temenos almost couldn’t help but laugh this time, the sound escaping him in the form of a soft snicker. “Yes, I’m sure Crick would be simply thrilled to recount to you our first meeting, Ochette,” He said, “But now isn’t the time. You’ll have plenty of time to do so later, I promise.” Ochette pouted, but relented. “Ok, Crick,” She said, voice almost suspicious of all things. “You’ll have to tell me later about it. I’ll see you later.” She said, leaving the room to walk downstairs. To his credit, Crick had the decency to have a look of confusion on his face at her tone. “...Of course…?”
“Don’t mind her. She’s all kinds of curious. All the time.” Throné said. She leaned in close to Crick, whispering something to him before quietly standing up and walking out of the room herself with a knowing glance. Crick’s face went a little pink, which was more than comforting considering it had been as pale as death itself just a few hours earlier. Castti walked out quietly, nodding at Temenos, to which he offered his own. Finally, when Agnea passed him, she smiled at the two of them and said: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while you’re in here!” To which Crick’s pink face turned a much more appealing red before quickly returning to a more acceptable tone.
The door slipped shut, and Temenos took a few more steps into the room.
“Temenos,” Crick said. The tone was hard to discern from the expression on his face, a measured blankness that he didn’t often see from the oft expressive knight. “Did you…?”
“Find the clues you laid out for me?” Temenos finished for him as he sat down in the seat that Castti had occupied, right next to the bed. “Yes, of course. You were very thorough, lamb.”
“I thought I told you not to…” Crick said, before trailing off into silence. Uncomfortable silence.
“...So you know, then,” He said, “That everything that I’ve built myself upon is a complete lie?” Temenos thought for a moment about how to respond to that…mostly because it was true, and he didn’t want to be sardonic or cynical to a man that had nearly died getting that information.
“...Yes,” He settled on, “The Sacred Guard is corrupt.” He said, sticking only to the facts of the situation.
“Captain Kaldena—she tried to kill me,” Crick said, incredulously, as though he was struggling to believe it. Again, Temenos responded with a simple: “...Yes.” It was all he could say at the moment without spilling his vile thoughts about her. Crick went silent again, and Temenos could see the way he battled himself in his mind thinking about the situation. It was a very similar thought process that had occurred to Temenos when Roi had disappeared, albeit through a much more violent trigger.
“Crick,” Temenos said, before trailing off the same way Crick had. There was so much to say here, and not enough words. No words that could summarize what he was feeling right now. “What happened?” Crick flinched a little bit at that. “It’s…still a little bit blurry.” He confessed. “When I was attacked, though, all I could think about was you, Temenos. And getting the information I had found to you.”
“Even if you died to get it to me?” It came out harsher than he had intended it, and Crick pointedly looked down at himself, at his bandaged chest and torso. “Yes,” He said sternly, refusing to meet his eyes. “Even if I died to get it to you.” Temenos wanted to yell at him for that, but that wouldn’t be fair. After all, Temenos had gone through similarly taxing lengths to get this far. He stayed silent. “At least even if I had died, you would’ve still been able to figure it out, then.” Crick said quietly.
Temenos’ eyes narrowed. “You are a fool,” He said, unable to hide the frustration leaking out into his voice, “If you think I would’ve been satisfied just figuring things out if you’d died, Crick.” If you’d left me behind, just like Roi, his mind supplied.
Crick went silent once more, looking almost ashamed about what he’d said. “Where do I go from here,” He said softly, wisely choosing to change the subject. “I surely can’t return to the Guard. They must think I’m dead. Or injured at the very least.”
“You are injured,” Temenos corrected, “And as for returning to the Guard, you must know by now that I won’t let you go there again. Kaldena surely has eyes everywhere.”
“...Naturally.” Crick said, as though it was an answer he was expecting.
“You can spend your time in Flamechurch. I’m sure Mindt would take good care of you.” Temenos said. “No.” Crick said. “I can’t sit by while you put yourself in danger alone in pursuit of her.”
Temenos chose not to mention that that’s exactly what had nearly killed him , instead closing his eyes for a moment. The anger that he felt while facing Cubaryi still hadn’t faded—her words, taunting him over Crick’s ‘death’ still rang loudly in his mind. He’d almost been too late, and she reminded him of it constantly. It was beginning to subside, though instead of dispersing, it was simply giving way to a more potent emotion; a forceful wave of grief.
“...Temenos?” Crick said. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“No,” Temenos replied, shocked at just how small his voice sounded, “No, I’m not. I can hear you, I’m simply…”
“...Are you alright?”
Temenos shuffled himself closer to the bed as his eyes opened once more, allowing himself the selfishness of reaching out to touch Crick’s face. It was an act of indulgence that he had wanted for longer than he would ever admit out loud. At the very least, since Canalbrine. If he thought about it, probably from before then. Crick let out a soft sound of surprise but didn’t make any move to change it. “Crick,” Temenos said, words soft enough to be a prayer, “Do you desire to protect me?” It took a moment for the words to register to Crick, it seemed. Once they had, though, the answer was near-immediate. “Yes,” He said. “I do.”
“It seems we must share that desire then.” Temenos felt himself drawn forward, as though tugged by a string. “I owe you a few favors, it seems,” Temenos murmured. The distance between their faces was becoming infinitesimally smaller by the instant. “...Allow me to pay one back now.”
“Te…menos…” Crick mumbled, milliseconds before their lips met.
Temenos’ hand on Crick’s face was joined by Crick’s, as if holding him in place, a silent plea not to leave. Unbeknownst to Crick, Temenos had no intention of leaving this moment any time soon. Temenos made a small, desperate noise that even he couldn’t explain the origin of. Crick’s response was to pull him closer with his other hand on his waist until Temenos was pulled flush against the side of the bed. Temenos felt a small sense of desperation take over him as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss slightly, remembering that Crick Wellsley almost wasn’t here to receive this favor, and he felt a heat behind his eyes he hadn’t felt since he was young and still naive. It felt as though he was the one pleading for Crick not to leave him. It seemed that Crick was capable of bringing out those feelings in him, after all. Perhaps they’d affected each other more than either of them would admit.
It was gentle, but powerful, the kiss. Reverent, even. Religious, if Temenos was to be bold in its description. Blasphemy aside, Temenos’ other hand came to tangle in Crick’s messy blond hair. It was soft, still tousled from bedrest, and Crick let out a small groan when Temenos’ fingers caught on a particularly knotted spot. Temenos broke the kiss for a brief moment with a small smile. “My apologies, lamb,” He said, before returning the lips he had stolen so rudely from Crick. Crick responded in turn by somehow hauling Temenos ever closer, careful not to disturb his own bandages, to which Temenos offered another involuntary noise into Crick’s lips.
It lasted for what couldn’t have been more than a minute, but Temenos felt as though lifetimes had passed when they finally surfaced for air. “Hello there,” Temenos said, reveling in the absolutely shell-shocked look on Crick’s face. “H-Hi,” Crick stammered. “That was…it was, well…”
“It absolutely was ,” Temenos said, delighted at the shyness Crick was displaying. Adorable. “I think that settles a few of our favors, hm?”
“Yes,” Crick breathed, “Though you know I never once considered asking for those favors back.”
“I wouldn’t have dreamed you would,” Temenos responded, “You’re far too altruistic to seek for the things you want.”
The quiet that hung in the room was no longer uncomfortable, filled with unsaid words. It seemed that perhaps everything that either had wanted to say had been conveyed already. “I would feel better if you came along with us.” Temenos said, abruptly ending the silence. “...I have nowhere else to go, Temenos.” Crick said. “By your side is where I believe I belong. If I have nothing else to believe in as of now, I know that I believe in you.” The admission was heavy, and Temenos smoothed the pad of his thumb across Crick’s face.
“Why of course then, my dear Godsblade,” He said, for once only the smallest hint of a tease in his tone, “By your side is where I shall stay.”