FSE

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It was after sunrise when morning service began. The moment the doors opened, in walked the common church goers; many of the older generation in town liked to regularly attend sermons, as well as any of the wolves who currently had a day off from their normal routines, and rounding out the last few were some familiar faces. Everyone in attendance was a bit more somber than usual, an obvious effect of Finn’s funeral the previous day.

I was so used to seeing people walk in with smiles and chatting away happily with their neighbors and friends. That was not the case this morning, however. There were no smiles, or at least, no genuine ones. A few people smiled when I wished them a good morning upon their entrance, but it was clear to see they were forcing themselves to do it, probably out of politeness or as a courtesy. The few wolves who ducked under the doorframe all looked equally as melancholic. They didn’t seem to even have the heart to force any smiles. Not that they could be blamed, of course. It was hard enough for me to put on the friendly face that morning. But, as many things are, duty calls and we answer.

Once the pews were mostly filled, I returned up to the altar and helped Father MacDonald with the service. Like most any day, we started off with a reading from the Pracanda. Today, the father chose a rather pertinent passage. After setting the book down on the lectern, I cleared my throat and began.

“When asked of the dead by the young Godfrey, the honored and venerated Lady Sif answered, they are not lost. Though their physical bodies are no more, their souls are eternal, and have returned to Myrrah’s warm embrace. For as all things began with Myrrah, they all so end, and She waits patiently for each of Her children. This is not a final farewell, either. We shall all meet again one day yet, when our own times have come. Until then, we must remember that they are not gone. They always live in our thoughts, in our hearts, and in our souls.”

Glancing up from the text, I saw a few of the folks looked a bit uplifted by the reading, if only just a tiny bit. But sometimes, that’s all one needs, just that one little spark of happiness. Some of the others, like Finn’s father for instance, were not entirely swayed from the depressive atmosphere looming over them. And who could fault them that? I was only doing my part to ease their troubles, as I best knew how.

_ _

The morning service did not last long. After my reading, the father led the assembly in a collective prayer, asking Myrrah and Her saints to guide us all on the correct paths that would one day lead us to Her side. When the prayer concluded, the father then gave thanks to the townsfolk for their presence at the service, and bid them all a wonderful day.

Once the last person had departed the church, I got to work cleaning. Sweeping the floors, dusting down the altar and pews, and other such humdrum tasks. While I was wiping up the spilt wax from the candles, Father MacDonald appeared by my side.

“My boy,” he said, “why don’t you head home for now? I can handle the rest of the cleaning.”

“It’s not a problem, Father,” I responded, continuing my work. “It’s not like it takes too long if we work together.”

“Precisely why I’m offering you the chance to go. I have a few personal errands I need to attend to at around noon, and finishing the cleaning by myself will be a decent time waster for a while.”

“Well…if you’re sure, Father. I just don’t want it to seem like I’m pushing all the work onto you like some kind of ungrateful lout.”

“Pushing?” A snort and a small chuckle came from him then. “Boy, I’m telling you to let me do it. If anything, I’m the one pushing.” He then moved past me and began wiping off the wax from the candle holders, using a free hand to shoo me away. “Go enjoy the day.”

With a nod and an, “Alright then,” I bid my mentor a good day and made my exit from the church. However, as luck would have it, a certain someone was just on their way inside. As I pulled open the door, a lone woman was waiting right outside, hand outstretched and reaching for the door handle to open it herself.

She was a rather short lady, easily a foot below me in height. But what really stood out, at least to me, were her eyes; a pale shade of green the same color as dried grass in the heat of summer. She had pulled her long, raven-black hair into a braid which hung just below her shoulders, and as usual, the subtle yet intoxicating scent of honeysuckle enveloped her whole being. Her attire for the day was a simple white blouse, with a long flowing skirt ending just under her calves. A deep ruby red vest was worn over the blouse, and the neckline had been trimmed to show off her collarbones. Her clothes hugged her body close, making her delectable curves stand out in such an enticing way.

When I realized I had been staring for too long without saying anything, I tried to find my voice. She beat me to it, however.

“Morning Richter. I was just coming by to see if you were ready.” Her voice was like a heavenly tune. Music only for my ears to enjoy.

“Ready?” I gave her an odd look, jutting out my bottom lip. “For what?” I began to go through my mind, trying to recall what I needed to prepare for.

A playful smile snaked its way onto her lips. “Aw, don’t tell me you forgot already.”

Before she could remind me what I’d forgotten, Father MacDonald walked up and greeted the young woman with a happy, “Ah, good morning, Victoria dear.”

“Morning, Father,” she replied in a chipper tone. “Sorry I wasn’t at the service. Kincaid’s caravan arrived before dawn, so mum, dad and I have been busy at the store.”

He waved off the excuse and said, “No need to apologize, my dear. Family comes first, after all.” His bespectacled eyes looked from Victoria to myself before he said, “I’m assuming you’re coming here to steal away poor Richter?”

Her midnight-colored braid bobbed as she nodded. “I hope you don’t mind, Father.”

“Not at all. I was just telling him he should take the rest of the morning off.”

“Excellent!” She then turned around and made as if to walk away, hands clasped together behind her back. She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “We were supposed to have a nice meal with each other, but if you just up and forgot…” She left me hanging with that final line as she sauntered down the hill, hips swaying side by side, knowing I would be watching her intently.

This was Victoria. A woman I’d known damn near since we were born. We were close like siblings as children, and as we grew, we became even more familiar. First just innocent young love, no more than sweethearts. Holding hands when no one could see, a hidden kiss on the cheek here or there, pretending we knew all there was to know about our relationship. But when we reached adolescence, our bond became something greater. The innocent childish feelings transformed into fiery passion. Learning more about our bodies together under the cover of night, soft caresses and whispered words of love. And now, we were promised to one another; I had proposed to her a few months back, asking for her hand at a dinner with her family.

The reminder of our date hit me hard. A few days ago, I’d set up a date for the two of us, but after Finn’s death, my mind was occupied with my duties and the preparations. The thought of the date hadn’t even crossed my mind until now. Though I did feel a bit guilty, I knew Victoria was just playing at her disappointment. She was there for Finn’s funeral, after all. In some way, this was her method of helping me with my own feelings of grief.

Jogging after her, I caught up easily. It wasn’t like she was really storming off. I met her pace once I got close, and I offered an apologetic smile. Her wry smile persisted, and she reached down and her hand clasped onto mine, our fingers weaving together absentmindedly. She seemingly planned out her route from the church, as she pulled me along through town, directing me through street after alley after corner, and so on and so forth, until eventually we were standing outside a wide building that stretched out almost an entire block in length.

Like most of Blackthorne’s buildings, it was made mostly of dark wood with some stonework for compliment. Tattered cloth hung over the entrance as a makeshift awning. I’d never seen the cotton length in good condition. Large windows offered one a good view of the goings on inside. A few people could be seen eating and talking at a few tables, but otherwise nothing much of note happening. My eyes shifted back to the entrance, or rather, to the sign dangling from chain next to the door itself; a circular cut of wood with a carving of a crow with four wings upon it. I never understood what the art was supposed to signify, if anything at that. It’s not like they named the tavern “The Four Wings” or something like that. No, it was the simply named “Rose’s Place.” The carving confused me.

This building was the second of Blackthorne’s taverns. The second of only two, that is. Both taverns were located near the gates on either side of town, conveniently enough, with the one I walked by last night was around the eastern gate and Rose’s by the western gate. I figured this was more for travelers’ benefits rather than the townsfolks.’ I mean, both taverns got plenty of business, especially when any trade caravans came through the area.

Victoria pushed open the door, and we were greeted to the familiar sights within. The first noticeable finding were the thick posts ascending from the floor to the ceiling beams. Six in total, three each on opposite sides of the tavern. The second thing that came to the eyes were the tables spanning the lay of the land, so to speak. A natural thing to see, obviously, in a business like this.

As could be seen from outside, many of the tables weren’t busy with customers. In fact, not counting Victoria and myself, there were only about ten or so people in the tavern at the moment. Among them were a few recognizable faces; Ol’ Red having a late breakfast alone, Graham taking a short rest from working in his field, and the twins Edmund and Eliza playing a mostly friendly game of cards. The rest of the people weren’t quite as familiar to me. I’d known them, sure. Blackthorne wasn’t the largest town around, so you at least knew most of your fellow locals, at least their names. But, beyond the names, I didn’t really know everyone around.

With our fingers still intertwined, Victoria and I stepped in and sat down at one of the empty tables. I waved over the young lass bringing drinks to one of the groups of townsfolk, and when she got to us, I put in our order, asking for a few extra slices of pork added to mine.

As the lass departed, I focused on the love of my life and smiled. The playful grin had left her lips at some point, but I could still see the same spark of it within her eyes. It was an interesting quality, one I seemed to have noticed more and more the last few years. Was she always able to smile just with her eyes like this, or did she somehow learn to do it over time? Regardless, seeing that most subtle of looks always made my heart skip a beat. And I was sure she knew it, too.

“My mother asked me this morning about us having children.” She said it so casually, as if it was just a banal comment on the weather or the like.

“What did you tell her?” I wasn’t all too shocked hearing this. Victoria’s mom had mentioned grandchildren on a few occasions since I proposed.

The tavern lass had returned with two mugs full of sloshing, frothy liquid. When I took a quick pull from it, I found it was full of deliciously sweet cider.

Victoria shrugged when she responded, “Same thing as every other time she’s asked.”

“Let me guess. Then she asked why we were waking so long?” I gave a small laugh as I spoke, knowing full well just how true it would be.

“Oh, of course,” she answered with her own snickering. “I guess she’s become a bit predictable, huh?”

In a higher pitched tone, I mimicked Victoria’s mother by saying, “You two need to stop wasting time and just wed already. I’m not getting younger, and I wanna hold a beautiful grandchild before I’m too old to even see properly.”

Unable to contain ourselves, we both burst out laughing. We shared a few more mimicries of the usual things her mother would rant about, our stomachs and sides aching from the continuous laughter. It wasn’t until the lass returned with our meals that we finally died down from our giggles.

As we calmed down, I took a small cut of pork and savored the juicy tenderness of the meat. I then questioned my dark-haired love, “Why is she so adamant about us having a kid? I don’t see her bugging Roderick about this.”

“Oh, she does,” Victoria answered. “Why do you think he doesn’t spend a lot of time at home, even on his off days?”

“Honestly? Never gave it much thought,” I said with a shrug. “Figured he finally found someone lucky enough to call his own.”

“Hardly.” She dug into her greens, making a satisfied little noise at the taste. After taking a few more bites, she continued, “I wish he would, though. He’s mentioned he thinks Lilian looks real pretty, but so far he hasn’t tried to pursue her.”

I was about to give my thoughts on her brother’s poor love life when we were interrupted by a man coming over to our table. He was a young dark-skinned man dressed in the green and blue uniform of the couriers. I recognized him as one of the messengers who would deal with church related business.

And it seemed he was here for just such a reason.

“Richter,” he said with a nod, before digging into the satchel at his side and retrieving an envelope. He shot his hand out to me and stated, “Seemed like this was important. Was told to take it straight to one of you priests, no detours, no slowdowns.” His delivery done, he then swiftly departed as quickly as he came.

I examined the letter, finding it was closed with a blank wax seal, lacking any crest or symbol to show who has sent it. I pointed this out to Victoria, who urged me to hurry up and open it. Hooking a finger under the envelope flap, I pulled at the seal from behind and the paper relented to me, unfolding as it did so.

It read as follows:

“To Fathers MacDonald and Hayes, I write on behalf of my people here in Velwood. Lately, there have been unexplainable noises in the dead night, a sudden wintery chill that leaves one shivering as if they dove into a frozen lake, and even the nearby woods have become, shall we say, non-welcoming. The animals of the wood have all but abandoned their home, and no one can seem to find a cause for any of these mysterious happenings. I fear there might be a demon at work here. And where there’s a demon, there’s some fool who’d risk everything to summon it forth. So far, no one has been harmed or anything of the sort, but I write in hopes of preventing such an event. Please, I beg of you to bring some of your hunters to investigate the goings on here and, if my fears turn out to be true, slay the demon and whatever sorcerer dared bring it upon us. Writing with urgency, Mayor Stolk.

_ _

My eyes went a bit wide in shock at the mention of a demon. Even the possibility of one of those malicious beasts near innocent people filled me with a sense of duty to help eliminate it. And that went double for whoever was stupid enough to form a pact with a demon and allow it entry into our world.

I must have been sitting there re-reading the letter for a good minute or so, because I soon felt a soft hand upon my arm. Victoria’s concerned face greeted me when I looked upwards, her hand outstretched to touch me in a comforting gesture. There was a disquieting look about her as she met my gaze. I explained the contents of the letter and watched as her own eyes widened with disturbance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I also noticed Eliza ignoring the game with her brother and the furry pointed ears on top her head were facing my way, eavesdropping on our conversation. I suppose it made sense she’d be interested in listening. After all, dealing with demons were one of the biggest duties for the wolves. The mere mention of a demon surely was something Eliza, or any of the wolves for that matter, were always keeping a keen ear out for.

My body shot up out my seat almost without me even thinking. I looked straight at the shewolf across the room and shouted to her.

“Eliza! I know you’re listening! Go find Mikhael, tell him about this. I’m inform the father.”

At once, she snapped up and left her brother alone at the table, heading out of the tavern with a stern look. As she departed, she flashed me a wild grin full of sharp teeth, a silent message of her excitement at something to do.

“Do you really need to leave already?” Victoria mumbled. I turned my gaze back to the love of my life to see her downcast, her eyes focusing on the floor between us. “I feel like you just got back home, and now you’re heading out again.”

With careful movements, I brought a hand to her face, placing my palm against her cheek and lifting up to make her meet my eyes. Bringing her closer, I planted a soft kiss upon her lips and offered a weak apology.

“I know, love. But, something like this is just too important to ignore.”

A sad sigh drifted out from her, but she quickly fixed herself with a forced smile. “Just be careful. For me?”

Nodding, I kissed her once more before leaving the tavern. If the courier came to the tavern, it must have meant the father wasn’t at the church. If that was the case, then I knew of only one other place he could easily be found. My feet led the way up and down streets until eventually the sweet, delectable scent of freshly baked breads filled the air. I was close. I followed the odor all the way to the bakery, a nice stone building with the windows wide open to entice any and all to step inside to purchase their oh so tasty wares. And from the open window I could see Father MacDonald’s wiry gray head standing next to the shop’s counter, chatting up the sweet old lady Miss Beatrice.

He must have noticed me, because he was already looking my way as I opened the door.

Miss Beatrice gave a warm greeting. “Richter, my boy, what brings you?”

“I’m here to speak to the father, ma’am. Sorry to pull him away from you like this. Official church business.”

Official church business was shorthand everyone in Blackthorne knew to mean something involving demons. Miss Beatrice just bowed her head and politely wished us a safe morning.

As the father and I left the bakery, I detailed the letter to him, the father nodding along as I did. When I was finished, he closed his eyes for a moment before responding.

“Alright, so, you’ll go to Velwood with two of the wolves and devise the truth,” he explained. “If indeed there is a demon, then you must also figure out who among the citizens is the sorcerer. I wish you luck on your endeavor, my boy.”

“Wait, wish me luck?” I stopped and fixed the priest with a hard look. “You’re not coming with?”

He shook his head and took off his spectacles, pulling out a cloth to wipe them clean. “I’m afraid not. These old bones of mine just can’t go around butting heads with demons and sorcerers anymore these days.”

“But Father,” I urged, “I can’t do this without you.”

“Nonsense,” he said, putting his spectacles back on, having determined them cleaned enough. “The last sorcerer we had to purify, you did all the work. I was barely even moral support at that point.”

“But I…”

“And the one before that, I deliberately did not get directly involved, letting you handle it alone. And you did amazing well.”

“Well, yes, but still…”

A bony hand landed on my shoulder then and he told me, “Richter, my boy, you are more than capable of taking care of things. Now come, we must prepare your things for the journey.” He then dragged me back to the church, where we would begin sorting and packing the items necessary for exorcisms.