Lakeside - Prologue

Prologue
33rd of Ilisiavar, 1561 AA

Sweat poured off Diederich’s brow and his gambeson stenched of the days-old muck that had covered his body, but after a long march, he and his fellow Inquisitors had finally arrived in Laipéda, a large unwalled settlement on a quaint cliff that overlooked the Cinnamon Gulf. As the group got closer, a guard patrol consisting of three halberdiers who wore crimson gambesons and nasal helmet approached and one of them held up their hand.

He shouted something in an unfamiliar language that sounded nothing like the Pallernic, but the message was clear enough; he demanded to know who the strange armed men approaching his hometown were. Knight-Inquisitor Enghard, an older man and the leader of the squad, approached the guards.

“Apologies, but I’m afraid I, nor any of my men, speak Alminthian” the Knight-Inquisitor declared.

One of the guards, a shorter man with a square, clean-shaven jaw, and deep brown eyes removed his helmet, took off the padding underneath and handed them to another guard. He stood straight, held his right hand to his shoulder and gave a firm nod.

“No need to apologize, Inquisitor,” said the guard, his eyes focused on the emblem embroidered into the collar of Enghard’s padded armor. “We’ll get along with you, as long as you keep out of trouble.”

“In my experience, you heretics tend to be the ones causing trouble,” the Knight-Inquisitor proclaimed. “Have you seen any Rükish men recently?”

The guard waved him off, and he and the halberdiers walked back to town without saying anything. Enghard seemed annoyed, but there was still a mission to complete.

A week ago, seven Rükish men had killed two young girls in their early teens out in the Lasser Woods. The men had claimed that it was an accident and that they weren’t sure how the girls died, but when the Inquisition found the girls the blood veins on their necks had burst open and they had bled to death. The men were found a kilometer away from the scene. One of them had a bandaged hand, and blood stained the part of the bandage that covered his palm. Diederich, Enghard, and the other Inquisitors who were with them at the time tried arresting them, but those men knew the area well. While giving chase, Diederich tripped on the root of a massive birch tree, and the Knight-Inquisitor gave up and ordered everyone to regroup. The Inquisitors had tracked them north, to the Magocracy of Alminthas.

With the guards dealt with Diederich walked up to his superior. He had only been an Inquisitor for a month, but a sense of guilt loomed over him, and he felt the need to apologize for his failures.

“Next time we go to Aussel, we ought to take the land route,” the Knight-Inquisitor said as Diederich approached. “This lack of horses has proven to be a problem.”

“Sir, I felt that I should apologize,” Diederich said, his voice shaky and silent.

“What for?” he replied.

“For my long streak of failures, if it weren’t for me, you’d have caught these monsters by now.”

“You’re an honest man Vikehol, but you’re unjust to yourself,” said the Knight-Inquisitor as they entered the town. “The reason why we couldn’t catch them was our lack of horses and their knowledge of the forest.”

“Nonetheless it was still reckless of me to run at those men without paying attention to my surroundings.”

“Courage and recklessness, virtue and sin,” Enghard paused for a moment. “Sometimes the lines get blurry, but I believe you are dedicated to the teachings of God and Saint Hillen.” He glanced at the townsfolk around him. “Unlike most of these heretics.”

Knight-Inquisitor Enghard held his hand up high and turned around, halting the movement of the other eleven Inquisitors who were behind him.

“Lads, sometimes we see sick and grotesque sights in our travels, but never forget that all of you are hillenists who willingly made a choice to dedicate your entire life to shield the faithful from the horrors of the world. Take pride in what you represent.” The Knight-Inquisitor cleared his throat and continued. “Organize into pairs and ask the locals if they’ve seen those Rükish men.”

Enghard patted Diederich on the shoulder and led him towards a crowded street full of people in colorful clothes. Most of the people in Laipéda looked like the folk back in Diederich’s hometown, Vike. Their skin was a shade darker, but still light olive. The main difference was the fashion. Alminthians seemed to cover most of their skin with the head and hands being the exception. Diederich also noted that the locals seemed to like facial piercings, especially the women.

The buildings were mostly made of stone, probably limestone, and the rooves were made of dark red clay shingles. Oddly, around half of the buildings had three eight-sided starts painted or carved into them. Two starts lied at the bottom, and one stood above. An eight-sided star was the symbol for mankind, but why three stars?

As Diederich pondered the question, another guard approached. He looked different from all the other locals. Though he wore the same garb, his hair seemed to have been purposefully shaved, and he had a jet black long yet patchy beard. His skin was also darker than that of the locals. “Greetings!” the strange guard said as he got closer.

“Is this about our other run-in with those guards earlier?” asked Enghard.

“No, I haven’t heard anything about that,” the guard answered while clearly avoiding eye contact. “The captain of the guard, Vilmasis, wishes to speak to the Inquisition of Athe”

The Knight-Inquisitor raised his furrowed his brows and crossed his arms “Is this captain of yours a mage or someone normal?” “I’m not sure if can say anything else” the guard muttered.

“Fine, where is this captain?”

The guard pointed at the distant peak of a wettkirijk’s bell tower. The wettkirijk itself seemed relatively new, either that or it had recently been re-whitewashed. The large building stood tall on an elevation near the cliff face. Surrounding it were other large buildings for either the rich, the nobles, or the government.

Enghard waved the guard off, and they continued to walk around town. The closer they got to the wettkirijk, the more Diederich felt a wave of panic sweep him off his feet, but he couldn’t understand why he felt that way. Enghard seemed to be in thought as well, he hadn’t said a word since the encounter with the guard. Why would a place like a wettkirijk inflict so much dread? Diederich had been to them before, and he had always considered them an excellent way to relax or to find happiness, but this magnificently large place of worship was the exact opposite. After minutes of walking without a word, Diederich broke the silence.

“We can’t go there, there is something wrong with that wettkirijk.” He looked into the Knight-Inquisitor’s light brown eyes. “Right?”

“I’ve been to heretical kirijks before,” he sighed. “Either the Lady of the Lake is directly warning us, or the Alminthian mages have been up to something dark.”

“What are our options then?” Diederich asked.

“Truth be told, I’m as lost as you are.”

“Maybe you should call off the search, we might need all Inquisitors here to help with this situation.” Said, Diederich, as he scanned his surroundings.

Enghard shook his head. “We can’t call off a mission just to deal with this problem. Maybe it’s fine, and nothing will go wrong.”

Diederich stopped walking and replied. “Maybe, but you and I can both feel that something is wrong.”

A woman wearing a yellow linen top and a deep-red skirt that went down to her ankles walked past the two Inquisitors. Perhaps some of the locals knew something interesting about the wettkirjk?

He jogged up to her and lightly tapped on her shoulder. “Excuse me, do you speak Pallernic?”

The woman seemed confused. She tried ignoring Diederich and kept walking. Unpleased with the result, Diederich grabbed her shoulder, pointed toward the wettkirijk and asked.

“What’s wrong with that building?”

The woman let out a quick high-pitched screech and punched Diederich in the nose. She broke Diederich’s grip on her shoulder and ran down the street towards a building with a metal sign in the shape of a basket of pastries.

Diederich had noticed that most of the locals around him had stopped what they were doing to look at his situation. Now both terror and embarrassment clouded his mind, but nonetheless, he tried acting as nothing had happened and continued walking towards the source of the terror.

“What was that?” asked Enghard.

“I got reckless again, ran out of patience.” He replied.

The Knight-Inquisitor slowed down to look around. Diederich tried seeing if he could see the Rükish men or something else, but the area was far too crowded. Judging by the voices, the shouts, and by the music of a plethora of instruments, they were getting closer to the central marketplace of the town.

“We won’t find the Rükish or anything else in these crowds.” Said Diederich.

“There!” Enghard pointed toward a dark and quiet alley.

Diederich, ready for anything, grabbed the hilt of his scabbarded longsword and jogged forward, but suddenly, Enghard grabbed him by the shoulder.

“That place will be nice and quiet for what I have in mind.” He explained

If no murderers were hiding in that alley, then what reason did they have to go there. Had the terrors of the wettkirijk torn his sanity asunder. Hesitantly, Diederich followed his commander into the tight, dank alley between two rows of stone buildings. Much of the sunlight was blocked off by the rooves and the buildings themselves, so it was nearly impossible to spot the source of the stench of feces and urine that plagued the area.

“Right, this place might smell a bit, but at least it’s quiet here,” Enghard said.

Diederich looked around trying his best not to step in anything. “Why did you need a quiet spot?”.

The Knight-Inquisitor crouched down and bent a knee. “If we are to go there we ought to do it after a prayer.”

Diederich nodded and went on one knee. He placed the elbow of his left arm on the bent knee, set the palm of his right hand onto the muddy ground, and used the other hand to hold his right shoulder. When both Inquisitors were ready, they waited three seconds and began their prayer in unison.

“In the name of the Lady of the Lake, the relentless prophet, and the spirits long lost, forgive us.”

They paused for another three seconds and then stood.

“I feel a bit better.” Said Diederich.

“Of course, that’s the whole point of the prayer.” Replied the Knight-Inquisitor. “Let’s do this. No more doubts. No more fears.”

The two stood up and walked out of the alley, narrowly avoiding the sludgy mix of feces and urine. But the foul odor stayed with them and those who sensed it kept their distance from the two.

The market was perhaps the most colorful place in the city. Merchants from other Alminthian towns, as well as outsiders from places as close as Aussel and Zvenor to faraway lands like the Stone Shore, Enlitca, and even a few from the desert. Several Enlitic merchants were trying to sell old treasures they no doubt pilfered from the tombs of the old Enlitic Panedur rulers. Pale blonde women speaking in a strange language and wearing large bear pelts over their shoulders tried to sell off beautiful wood carvings of bears and lynxes. An unnaturally short man with thick brown sideburns was showing the locals his selection of homemade beer and cider.

“Once we're done and hopefully still breathing, maybe we could come and buy something here?” said Diederich.

“Not sure if any of these merchants accept Pallernian Aurels.”

Diederich shrugged. “Perhaps not, but money is money, I’m sure someone is willing to sell to us.”

A minutes’ walk away from the market was the wettkirijk. The building was in the shape of an octagon, and it had three floors. Each floor was a smaller in diameter than the one below it and on top of the smallest octagon was the tall bell tower. The first floor lacked windows, but its walls were instead decorated with carvings that depicted different scenes from history such as the Explosion at Athe and the Second Divine March. Many of the sculptures described other events that Diederich wasn’t familiar with. One such carving showed a large group of men and women chanting and moving their arms in unison as the earth in front of them split. The other floors had colorful golden and dark blue windows that glistened in the sunlight. The doors to the building were made of dark red wood and reinforced with steel.

In front of the wettkirijk stood a man in white robes who kept shouting, either about the teachings of Abrea or the recent news, but as Diederich couldn’t speak his language, there was no way of telling. Next to the young preacher stood a notice board with a few messages on it. As the two walked up to the door, the preacher went silent for a moment and then shouted something at the Inquisitors in a relatively friendly tone.

“I’m afraid we don’t speak Alminthian.” Explained Diederich

The friendly preacher said something in response, but the only words Diederich understood were wettkirjk, a word that’s Pallernic in origin, and the name Abrea. The preacher went up to the door, said something else in his language with a warm smile, and opened the door, revealing an expansive room with a marble floor and pillars. There was a big circular counter in the middle of the room with two young women in the same white robes as the preacher. The whole stand seemed to made out of marble or at least something similar to it. To the left of the room was a door that led to a men’s changing room and the male-only baths. To the right lied the female rooms and, in the middle, past the reception counter, was a large door that led to the pools where both men and women could relax together.

After the Inquisitors entered the building the preacher closed the door behind them and then suddenly Diederich remembered the feeling of dread and imminent doom that had been kept at bay by the prayer. Enghard didn’t seem affected by these thoughts, perhaps his faith in God was stronger, his mind purer, or maybe he was just good at hiding what lied deep inside his thoughts.

Besides the two women at the counter, a man, woman, and three young girls and a younger boy were also in the marble room. They seemed to have entered the building a minute before Diederich, and they were finishing off talking to women at the reception counter.

When the family finished talking to one of the receptionists and went to the door that led to the public pools, Diederich and Enghard walked up to them.

“Greetings, we were told that the captain of the guard was around here somewhere. Do you happen to know where we could find him?” asked the Knight-Inquisitor.

The robed woman’s eyes glanced at the emblem of the Inquisition of Athe that was embroidered into the gambeson’s collar.

“Inquisitor.” She said, clearly puzzled by why two hillenists would be in their kirijk. “The captain is here, but he hasn’t mentioned anything about you. Please wait here, if you want, you could sit on the benches next to the pillars. I will go ask him about this situation. Should only take a minute or two.”

“Fine, make it quick, this building doesn’t like us.” Responded the Knight-Inquisitor.

The woman raised a brow for a moment but then walked off toward the door behind the counter. Diederich began moving toward the benches, but suddenly Enghard moved closer and whispered.

“I swore I saw someone sitting on a bench when we entered, but I can’t see them anymore.”

Diederich and Enghard moved out of earshot from the remaining receptionist.

“Are you sure you saw a person and not just a trick of the light?” Diederich replied in a hushed tone.

“I’m certain,” he paused and remained in thought for a moment that lingered painfully long. “The person wore dark, long robes that covered all of his skin and the hood he wore concealed most of his face.” Enghard pointed at a bench at one of the corners of the room, left of the main door, near the woman’s changing room. “There, in that dark corner.”

“I’m not an expert on obscure cults, but could an Aberati cultist do something like that?” Diederich asked.

“A cultist? Probably not, but it is possible that we could be dealing with an aberati itself. They have been known to influence minds, and our minds have certainly felt the influence of something most unholy and wicked.”

“Could a mage influence minds? Alminthas is known for its mages.”

“I’m afraid I only know about vitality mages, and this definitely isn’t the work of those Rükish murderers.”

Diederich scratched the stubble on his oval jaw and replied. “Is it possible that the local kirijksus or maybe some of the brothers, sisters, or preachers under her might be under the influence of an aberati?” asked Diederich.

“If so, we might have to assist them, even if they have some misguided views about Abrea’s teachings, in the end, we still believe in the same God and we ought to unite to purge the aberati.” Said Enghard.

“Who could we trust around here?” Diederich asked. “If this aberati has already tried influencing us, then how many others has it meddled with. For all, we could know the entire town might be under its control!”

“We will need to…” the arrival of the receptionist stopped Enghard’s sentence, and they walked back to the counter. “Hopefully we can speak of this later.”

The receptionist directed towards the door where she came from. “Go through there, turn left, and the second door to your left will be the captain’s room.”

The Knight-Inquisitor nodded, and they followed her directions. When they opened the door, they came across a large pool in the shape of an octagon. On both sides of the pool were staircases that led to the second floor. Only a few people were in the steamy pool, and all of them looked perfectly normal. One woman, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and hazel eyes, reminded Diederich of his childhood sweetheart, Amalie, the daughter of a noble from Rittsvel, a larger walled city to the north-east of Vike. Her death had left Diederich depressed, but the kirijksus of the wettkirjk in Vike had sensed that something was off about him and so she offered to help Diederich. Her advice led him to the Inquisition. Though the sight of that woman and the thoughts of his dead lover weighed down on him, they also reminded him of his duty.

The captain’s door opened with an uncomfortable creak. Enghard stepped into the room. Diederich followed close behind. A man who looked frail and as thin as a branch sat behind an old worn table. He wore a dark olive tunic and charcoal hosen. His long black beard reached down to the bottom of his ribs, and his balding head reflected the light of the candles on the table and counters around him. Dozens of books, pouches, and letters were littered across his desk, and as he stood, the sheathed dagger on his belt became visible.

The captain cleared his throat and rubbed his nose with a leathery finger. “A few men disrupted me recently,” he said with a crackling voice. “They kept blabbering on about some soldiers wearing white gambesons and longswords on their belts,” he frowned for a moment, but then continued. “And now I’ve received a report about men from the Inquisition entering the town,” the captain walked closer. “The Hillenistic Church isn’t allowed to hunt down heretics on the soil of a Baglamist state, so what is the meaning of this?”

Knight-Inquisitor Enghard scowled at the heretic. “Those men were vitality mages responsible for the murder of two young girls in the Lasser Woods.” He pushed out his chest. “We are here to arrest the bastards and return them to the Peasant's Republic of Aussel where they will be judged for their crimes!”

As the Knight-Inquisitor shouted the frail man down, Diederich saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced at a dark corner to his right, but only a lonesome broom stood perched against the cold stone of the wall.

Suddenly, the sound of bones creaking and Enghard’s screams of anguish deafened Diederich, and he turned to face the frail man only to see his commander twitching on the floor, blood pouring from the neck, and standing over his body, a lanky figure wearing the ripped clothes of the captain. The muscles on its thin arms looked well defined, and its nails had turned into sharp blades, around eight centimeters in length.

An aberati. There weren’t any other explanations. The creature’s eyes met Diederich’s and all of a sudden, every fear, every moment of terror he had experiences in his twenty-two years on Ryel, it all poured back into his mind. Amalie’s murder, those dead girls in the woods, even the peaceful passing of his family’s fourteen-year-old hound, they all came back, and the thoughts crippled him.

All he could do was watch. Watch as the aberration in front of him slowly moved closer, savoring the experience. Its face was a twisted mutation of the captain’s. The eyes had pressed further into the skull, the nose far more curved and its jawline, now covered by a far patchier and sickly-looking beard, seemed as sharp as its claws. As it approached it grinned, revealing blackened teeth and the foul odor that came from it was all but vomit inducing.

The aberati latched its long black tongue out and tried licking Diederich’s eyeball but settled for the nose when Diederich closed his eyes. The monster made gurgling sounds, and as its tongue moved closer to Diederich’s ear, he could feel its influence on his mind growing.

With his eyes still closed, the young Inquisitor tried thinking about happier times, about family and the friends he had made over the years, but the only friend he saw in his mind’s eye was his commander and mentor. The man whose lifeless corpse lied by his feet.

The aberati moved its gnarly lips close to the Inquisitor’s ear. “You don’t have to die, Inquisitor,” it spoke with a rough, emotionless voice. “You could serve a new master,” Its lips brushed his ear. “A master who could keep those negative thoughts at bay.”

The aberati were known for their abilities to alter minds. Perhaps they could get the images of the dead out of mind, but to betray the Inquisition, betray God and all her faithful servants. No matter how good a deal, that was simply unacceptable. Or maybe he could willingly submit. Perhaps in service to the aberati, he could figure out their weaknesses, where they come from, and how to end them.

Diederich sighed and opened his eyes. “Very well,” he nodded. “I will serve you.”

The aberati gave a terrifying grin. “Good,” it said. “Keep an eye open, I will clear your mind.”

In a flash, its black tongue lashed out and stuck to Diederich’s eye. He tried closing the eyelid, but its tongue wasn’t coming off. Scenes from his childhood flashed in his mind, but Diederich couldn’t recall the scene afterward. Too late did he realize, that his memories were being whipped. The lessons and experiences that had molded him into the man he was, they were all being removed.

The flashes of his childhood stopped at an image of a statue. He couldn’t recall the memory anymore, but the statue seemed familiar, and for some reason, it had halted the memory removal process. The bronze figure held a mace in one hand and a book in the other. He wore a white cloak over his mail and on the spine of his book was an abstract mixture of an anchor and a flower. The symbol of Abreanism.

The aberati pulled its tongue off his eye and backed off shrieking. For the moment, Diederich’s mind was clear enough to know what had to be done. He pulled out his longsword and held the hilt close to his hips whilst keeping the point of the blade directed towards the aberati. Diederich was in the doorway, and he had the aberati trapped, but trapped foes aren’t something to underestimate, especially not an unnatural abomination such as this one.

The beast let out a horrific high-pitched screech as it leaped in front on Diederich and brought its claws down on him, but Diederich managed to react in time by raising the hilt over himself, covering his head with the blade. The monster’s claws clashed against the cold hard steel and Diederich followed up with a thrust towards the chest.

As the tip of his sword penetrated the skin, the aberati pushed the blade further into itself as it tried swiping at the Inquisitor's face. A single claw slashed through Diederich’s cheek, leaving behind a dark red line. Filled with anger, sadness, and fear all at once, the young Inquisitor tried pulling the blade out of the aberati’s ribs, but its muscles had gone tense, and the sword was firmly stuck within. Diederich tried kicking his opponent, but the aberati reacted in time, and three sharp claws went through his calf, narrowly avoiding the bone, but the immense pain caused Diederich to trip and fall, letting go of his sword in progress. The claws that had penetrated and gone through his calf pulled out as fast as they entered.

Diederich crawled and backed up into a corner. His chances of survival had diminished, and if he died, no one could have figured out what had happened to him and the Knight-Inquisitor. No one would even know about the aberati in the wettkirijk. It would continue lording over the town guards. If it wanted, it could rule the entire town, and folks would have been none the wiser. Its only weakness seemed to have been a statue in Diederich’s mind that he could still remember accurately. A white cloaked, mace-wielding, abreanist. No, not just any abreanist.

Diederich looked into the eyes of the aberati, memories of past terrors came flooding back, but this time he had managed to suppress them. “You fear Saint Hillen, aberati?”

It lowered its readied claws and let out a low rumble. “Do not speak the bastards name in my presence!”

“Blessed Hillen,” chanted Diederich with a cheeky grin. “Hammer of Abrea, give us the strength, the will, to smite your foes and...”

The aberati screeched and grabbed ahold of Diederich’s throat, wrapping its long fingers around tight. “Silence, you could have been a powerful asset.”

Diederich interrupted the foul creature’s talk by grabbing the lonesome broom that lied just in arms reach, and he gave a mighty whack against the aberati’s frontal lobe. With his opponent partially stunned, Diederich bit his teeth into the arm that held him and tore out a tense chuck of putrid flesh. He continued the assault by grabbing the grip of his longsword that was still inside the aberati, and he used it to pull himself off the ground, but his foe lost its balance and collapsed to the ground nearly landing on top of Diederich but smacking his head against the wall instead.

An audible crack sent shivers down Diederich’s spine, but he quickly realized that the sound had come from his foe's skull. As he looked at the aberati, he saw a blood smear on the wall and the body underneath it. Its neck seemed twisted, and the skull had split, yet it still moved.

The head slowly focused on Diederich’s face, but then nothing. No more movement, no eery screeches, and the mind, Diederich’s thoughts felt lighter in his skull, just as they had felt before the foreign guard came with the invitation to the wettkirijk. Could others have felt the liberation of their minds? What happens to a servant once the master dies?