FSE

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There's a tower buried in a dense wood, only its peak reaching above the canopy – a quiet, secluded place for Krozius to plot and rest. The necromancers name is well known locally from his constant misdeeds yet few learned of the stone tower without joining the ranks of his skeleton lackeys, let alone saw it. He resides at the top of his tower, reading and rereading his scriptures while he waited for a delivery. A bright red flame bursts to life in a lantern atop the only exit, the rat turning his attention to his orb to see a familiar face conjured in the glass. Before long the door swings open, the red light dismissed.

“You got all of it?" the rat grunts towards the door, not even lifting his head.

“Yup! Just like last time" the young looking vixen mumbles with a sigh, setting a basket full of odds and ends on the rats table as she walks by. The girls fur is a muted orange, her simple dress mostly brown and off-white – the most colour in the room is the bright red scarf tightly wrapped around her neck. “It's not going to work, you know."

“If you brought the CORRECT ingredients this time, it WILL!" the hunched-over rat yells over his shoulder, his one good eye focused on a foul bubbling elixir boiling over a purple flamed burner. The rats tatty cloak does little to hide his predicament; half of his skull is exposed to the elements, and flesh barely clings to his bones. He's undead, and rapidly decaying.

“They're all correct, and they were last time too. Just admit you have no idea what you're doing already" she sneers, sticking her tongue out at him. The rat clenches his fist around around his vials, shooting her a harsh glare before returning to his work. He didn't have time to bicker, his focus goes back to his scriptures, grabbing ingredients from the basket.

“Crushed rune essence... Hanged mans tooth... Rat blood, virgin..." he pauses before pouring that last ingredient in, turning around to face her. “Who did you get this blood from?"

“Why does it matter? Some girl I saw outside of Toft." It's clear from her tone that she doesn't want to talk about it, the girl trying to distract herself by toying with her bushy tail.

“How can you be sure they're suitable?"

“I asked, how else could I know? Anyway, I doubt a girl of her age would be... 'Unsuitable' for your needs." She shudders in disgust at him for requesting and herself for delivering, the rat turning back and and laughing to himself. She thought she'd eventually get used to her job, but the increasingly disgusting and immoral ingredients he needed kept her up at night.

“Don't go sneaking off now, I'll need your hair soo-" he pauses as the red lantern ignites again, bathing the room in red light. “What? Who in deaths name could that be?" the decrepit necromancer grumbles, looking over to his glass orb. The dark energy inside swirled and congealed, slowly forming the image of a human man hacking in to one of his skeletons with a sword. “What? I- how? Someone has breached the first floor! Were you followed?"

“Of course not! How dare you suggest such a thing?!" she rushed over to the orb, jaw dropping at what he saw. “H-hes a paladin!" she cries, pointing to the insignia on his cuirass.

“Oh no oh – NO! This isn't the end! Get- Get me crossbow!" He's aging before her eyes as he panics, the vixen running off to a wall full of bizarre implements to grab the heavy weapon and a onyx-tipped bolt. “Rack it now! Faster! Faster!" he screams, watching the intruder dispatch of skeleton after skeleton as she struggled to rack the mechanism.

“Why don't you just curse the bastard?" she heaves, slowly ratcheting the mechanism with all of her might.

“Don't you know paladins are spellproof you utter fool? A waste of life force - maybe if you checked your back we shouldn't be in this mess!" The thick wooden door shakes and creaks as the intruder begins to kick it down, the pair freezing up for a moment and looking to each other for a solution neither of them had, the half-cocked crossbow dropping to the floor. The hinges buckle, and finally give way at the next hit. A tall human bathed in red light stands in the doorway with silver sword in hand, his cuirass proudly displaying the golden ratio. His blue eyes lock on to the rat, only offering the fox a glance.

“Krozius!" he barks at the rat, advancing swiftly, sword at the ready. The decaying rat turns and tries to run, tripping to the floor. Seeing her opportunity to escape, the fox slinks to the ground and begins to follow the wall towards the door.

“No – No stop! I can – I can give you power the Alutorian Church would never let you attain!" The human steps closer, taking a wide stance and raising his sword high above his head. “Eternal life!" He cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders to make sure they're limber. “R- raising the dead!" The silver sword rises high above his head, glowing red in the lantern light. “Control th-" his final plea is cut short by the blessed sword cutting through his head like butter, the holy blade burning his flesh on contact. The hexes binding him to this world in undeath finally unravel, black ooze leaving his shrivelling body as it rapidly ages and decays. In mere seconds all that's left is ash.

“Stop! Where do you think you're going?" The fox freezes in fear, every bristle of her bushy tail on end. She's on her hands and knees halfway out the door, why couldn't she have gotten just a few steps further? “He's dead, you're safe now. What's your name?" It takes a moment for her to catch on, standing up slowly so she can face him.

“My name is Maria." she states as calmly as possible, trying to temper her nerves. She examines him closely; he's around 5'10" with blonde hair and blue eyes, clean shaven with a boyish yet stoic look to him. His armour shows the golden ratio, the symbol of the Alutorian Church... He has a blessed sword, but lacks the pauldron that should show his rank and discipline. Come to think of it, the only piece of armour he has is his cuirass. “And you are?"

“Theon! Paladin - and your saviour, young miss!" he approaches her and gives an awkward bow. “With so many people reported missing I'm just glad to see someone that's still alive!" And someone so beautiful, he thinks to himself, he couldn't help but lose himself in her dark emerald eyes, or the muted lustre of her fur...

“Of course, thank you so much! I think I'll be going no-" she turns to leave, but is stopped by his firm grasp on her wrist.

“You? Wondering off in to those cursed woods alone at night? Please, come with me! I'll make sure you're safe." His flesh is hot against hers, she could see the gears turning in his eyes. “You're practically frozen stiff! Do you need a blanket?"

“Yes! Of course, yes please!" she chimes, making sure he heard what he expected to hear before shaking his grip off of her arm, graciously accepting the simple woven blanket from his pack, draping it over her shoulders and around her arms.

“This way! I'll take you to the Monastery at Rattay, you'll be safe there" They tread down the steps of the tower past tens of shattered skeletons, all of the necromancers minions having fallen once he did. A wave of relief washed over her as she passed through the gloomy arch for the final time, never to return. She looks back with a big toothy grin, an extra spring in her step and sway in her tail. Now she just had to ditch this square before he dragged her to a unwanted intervention.

“So Maria. Tell me about yourself."

“Oh, I'm just a farmers daughter, I help my parents tend to the crops and animals. Nothing special!"

“Nothing special? Farming is a very noble profession, you feed the world! I can take you back there if you wish."

“There's not really anything to go back to." She goes to wipe away a tear that isn't there, looking down at her footpaws as they walked.

“I see... I'm sorry for your loss." They walk together in silence for the next while, their eyes occasionally meeting as they looked at eachother. She's examining every detail of him, while he takes too much interest in her figure. It's something of interest to keep the mind occupied at as they trip over roots and duck under branches.

After hours of trudging through the woods they hit a secluded lake, trees obscuring it from the nearby road to Rattay. They step in to the opening, watching the gentle ripple of water to the pebble beach from a short waterfall on the opposite side.

“Lets take a break" the human says, stepping to the shore and kneel so he can drink from cupped hands. She considered running off now, he's got his back turned and she's mere paces from the dense woods. Yet she had a few suspicions and many questions, and it wasn't like she had any place to be with her old Master reduced to ash.

“So, you're a paladin right? With the Church of Alutor?" she questions, kneeling by the shore and gesturing to the spiral embossed on his chest.

“Of course!" he guffaws, drumming a fist on his chest. “You think I wear this for no reason?" The spiral of the golden ratio was chosen to symbolize the absolute perfection of natural life, since Alutor sculpted every single being herself to be as perfect as herself; that's what her believers say at at least. The church is popular in this region, with the most devoted taking an oath to destroy unnatural and artificial life such as golems and the undead.

“Well, you don't have a rank pauldron. No cloak either, and you're missing the rest of the armour." Her smug, knowing grin meets his furrowed brow.

“What are you trying to say?" His tone becomes defensive,

“I'm saying that you're not a paladin. You're lucky Krozius was stupid enough to think you are" she sticks her tongue out at him playfully, ears twitching.

“I- Hey! I am a paladin! Was a paladin... Was going to be. Not any more." He bites his lip and rubs the back of his neck, trying to defuse this situation, wondering how some lowborn commoner was able to deduce all of that.

“Right - so, what's your angle then?"

“I don't have a 'angle' that's the truth!" He crosses his arms across his steel chest, he'd never met a person this perceptive, no one outside the Church had ever questioned him like this. “Look, it's a complicated situation. But now that I've proven myself, it should be smooth sailing from here." He finds himself staring at the young fox again, everything from how her ears poked out from amidst her pitch-black hair, to her big bushy tail that seemingly never stopped moving. “You believe me, right?"

“I do." she mutters, standing up and brushing a cold hand down his cheek. “You're a very strange man, but you've got your heart in the right place. Plus you freed me from that rat – thank you for that, by the way." Her ears go to attention as he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her in to his embrace.

“I'm just glad there was someone to save, especially someone as beautiful as you." He couldn't believe he just said that, it'd been on his mind since he saw her – but hearing her say that finally brought it out. After years of being kicked about and barely scraping by, he felt like a true hero in this moment. It's just like those tales of heroism father would read to him as a boy, and he wanted this to end the same way. Slowly he leans in towards her, awaiting her tender touch...

“Hey now!" she yowls, pushing his face back. “I... I appreciate it, I really do! But – but we just met!" He lets go, the fox taking a step back and brushing her hair back to how she liked it. “You wouldn't like me anyway, it wouldn't work out."

“What do you mean? A smart, young beauty like you?" he smiles to hide how hurt her rejection made him, he understood why but that didn't reduce the pain. “There are places where the rules of courtship are less... Stuffy, you know." Interspecies mingling in this territory carries heavy penalties, ones he'd rather not risk.

“It's not that, it's something else. We could never work." Her words hurt him more than any blade ever could, all he could do is look at his feet and nod.

“I understand." He didn't in truth, but it was the right thing to say. “I still have to go to Rattay, I have a meeting at the Monastery." He didn't bother to ask if she'd come with him, it was obvious she wouldn't from her wistful look as she stared out at the lake. “Will you still be here when I get back?"

“Maybe" is all she says, not even looking his way to see him wave as he walked up to the road.

---

He stands at the mouth of the great building, not a soul paying attention to him. Monks chat as they tend to the the well kept hedgerows and orchards, a group of paladins tell tales of danger and heroism as their comrades listen intently, commoners flow in and out of every direction. Everyone is moving but him, eyes tracing the gold inlay of a spiral that led inside to the main hall, the nucleus of the massive spiral leading to the altar. Eventually he builds up the will to head towards the hall, filtering through the crowds.

The inside of the hall offers tranquility, disciples quietly pray and read, and what conversation does occur is whispered. Paintings and stained glass show images of nature with the ratio atop of it, showing how everything from a roses petals to a young womans face follow the mathematically perfect curve. Small curves form the chains suspending the chandeliers, and form the arms of every sconce on the walls. Each piece a stunning work of art that would drop any commoner to their knees, but to him it was normal. This had been home for 9 years of his life.

At the far end of the hall is the altar at which he was baptized, and to his immediate left is the confession booth. He needed an audience with an inquisitor or higher if he's to be reinstated, and this was his only option.. Hesitation overcomes him – what if it's Grace? He couldn't possibly bring himself to speak to her again, not after how he left things. Finally he takes a deep breath, brushing aside the dark curtain and sitting in the booth. It's pitch black, with only a slither of light from outside trickling in across his face.

“You're not really here to confess, are you?" the all too familiar, scornful voice pierces his very psyche, fists clenching up tight. “Still playing pretend paladin for coin?"

“I... I do what I have to do to get by. I'm here to tell you that I def-"

“Defeated Krozius? So what?" she butts in, her words ripped right out of his mouth. “You killed some cretin that could barely string a skeleton together, am I supposed to be impressed?"

“I did it with just a sword. No spellshield! I did it to show the Church my loyalty, that I am still devoted." An uncomfortably long silence looms over him, he wonders if she is even listening. “I want to be reinstated, I want to return to my training."

“Why should I? Nothing has changed, you can't undo the past." He slumps down in the bench, resting his face in his palms. He can't cry, not here, not in front of her. “You didn't even finish your little escapade, you didn't kill his familiar."

“He had a familiar? I didn't see anyone. What does he look like?" His hopes are brought up for a moment, his gaze raising from his palms. There's a bright, simmering flash of pure white light from the other booth, and a brief moment to ponder.

“Not a he, a she. A beast like her Master, short in stature... Currently sitting by a lake a few miles out of town." All colour drains out of his face. He didn't even want to think about it, but it must be true. There's no way she'd lie about that, how else could she know about Maria?

“You can see her? Sitting by a lake right now?" He begins to sweat. Did she know he travelled with her, does she think he's betrayed the church to take up necromancy?

“Truesight never lies." A gift only bestowed upon the most pious, the ability to see evil no matter where it may hide. The inquisitors sight made sure the undead were kept past the horizon. “Go deal with his familiar, then we'll talk." Her words calm his nerves for a brief moment.

“If I do, will you have me reinstated?" If killing a necromancer and his familiar didn't, what possibly could?

“What do you think?" The answer was clear from her tone, but it relieved the tension in the air. Without a word he pushes the curtain to the side, marching out of the hall. He focused on the intricate details of the beautifully carved marble floor, the polished metal inlays, how it reflected the flickering light of the sconces. Anything to take his mind off what he'd just learned.

He trekked out of the hall and down the steps, the bustling market square of Rattay drowned out by his thoughts. He wanted to be reinstated, to fulfill his fathers wishes, to rise the social ranks and be seen by all as a pious, and good person. It's all he'd been thinking about for the past two years, doing odd jobs to survive and slaying skeletons and golems to try and prove something. Suddenly he's ripped out of his mind and back to the real world, looking around, finding himself in a row of homes near the edge of the town.

“Watch where you're going!" A small voice below him cries, he looks down to see a small mouse boy he must've walked in to.

“I- Yeah, I will, sorry" he stammers, walking briskly around them and towards the town gate as children jeered and shouted. At least no one would disturb him on the road, returning to his thoughts. Thoughts about the church, Grace, and of course Maria. How could she possibly be evil? Shes smart and perceptive, she worked out what he was and wasn't with ease. If she was the unnatural, immutable evil the church had led him to fear, why didn't she curse or hex him once she learned he was susceptible?

Now he had his chance to find out, he'd walked all the way back to the lake without realizing. There she was just as Grace had said, sitting by the shore side brushing her hair. He treads closer, her ears twitching as he stepped on to the pebbles, their eyes meeting again.

“You stayed" he mutters, sitting down at her side. “Why?"

“I don't really have anywhere else to be." She sets her brush down in her lap, glancing over to him.

“Same." They share a long look at the lake, watching as a mother duck leads her young out on to the water, ducklings mimicking her movements as she bobs for food.

“Your meeting didn't go well, did it."

“About as bad as it possibly could have. I'll never get back in the church." He chooses his next words carefully, not wanting to spook her. “And... I learned what you are. I don't care about it though." Her body tenses up for just a moment, looking at his hands - they're nowhere near his sword, the fox relaxing again.

“I had a little feeling you wouldn't mind."

“How? Am I that easy to read?"

“You tried to kiss me, remember?" She chortles, elbowing him gently as his face flushes red. “And yeah, you are easy to read. You're a bit of a square, but your hearts in the right place." They watch the mother duck circle around her young to keep them together as a mallard approach, a few quacks and flaps of her wings driving him away.

“They think I'm here to kill you. They'll probably kill me too when they work out I'm not." He stands, offering a hand up to her. “We should keep moving, we better be past the horizon by sundown." She accepts the offering, smiling as she rises to her feet.

“Thankyou." Her hands are cold as before, it made sense to him now. He noticed how her chest didn't rise or fall, how the lustre and sheen was gone from her fur.

“For what?"

“For seeing past what I am."

“How could I see anything but a cute little thing?" A big, genuine smile plastered on his face.

“Because I'm not just a 'cute little thing'. Don't kid yourself." Her hands go to the scarf around her neck, claws catching on the fibres. After a moment of hesitation she pulls it off her neck, revealing a deep, fatal cut in to her neck. Her flesh is pink with cross-sections of her arteries and veins clearly visible, but there's no blood – that was drained years ago. The ghastly sight shocked him for a moment, but his smile persists.

“You're right, you're more than that - you're also a smug little know it all!" he ruffles her hair and ears, the fox squealing and laughing.

“Hey! Quit it!" she yowls, pulling away from his hand and re-affixing her scarf, looking up to see him already walking away. “Wait up! I've got short legs!" She finally catches up to him, tail swishing around wildly. “Where are we even going?"

“I don't know, somewhere that's not here. Any ideas?"

“We should go to the coast. Port towns don't ask questions." Despite her young looks it's clear she's experienced in this. “Farsund always has traders and misfits coming in and out, we'll blend right in."

“Alright, we'll go there." He adjusts his cuirass, getting ready for yet another long journey. “So, now that I know, do you think we could work out?" His hopeful eyes are met with a coy glare.

“Maybe later."