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Chapter 86: Death of Faith
🕑 Added 2025-12-03 11:00:09 +0000 UTCThe chaos in the fort slowly subsided. Though most were still trapped in a state of awe and tenseness — not helped at all by the giant humanoid-avian demon perched on the highest tower of the fort — the men obeyed their leader’s orders and set aside their weapons.
Apparently, the men were used to unconventional orders from Commander Amber, even for those demon-scarred veterans of the 24th Crusade. Her unorthodox tactics had saved them countless times before. One could saw they were conditioned to follow strange orders they disagreed with, so long as they came from their beloved hero-commander.
A fortunate silver lining in the midst of vast troubles brewing on Eri’s horizon, but he would take it. He was in bad trouble now, for Andrealphus’s reveal and evident loyalties to him placed the youth in a precarious position. He did not miss the questioning or even hostile gazes from his allies.
For the moment, Eri opted for the coward’s approach to simply ignore them and pushed the awkward conversation for later. In any case, he was far more concerned for the wounded dragon on the beach.
“Can you save them?” he worriedly asked.
Deyara hummed passively as she examined the giant, unconscious form of Marchosias. Peythra had already begun using her Lifeweaver magic to mend the most pressing wounds, but the vital, black bile would not stop pouring from the demon’s hole-ridden torso.
“Can’t say I’ve healed a wounded Archon before,” Deyara replied. “Demons, yes. But an Archon usually heals off the massive corruptive energies of its Hellgate. This will be difficult, especially since the wounds appear fatal. Guess we’ll start with pulling those cannon shells out first and go from there. Your imperial friends weren’t kind with their welcome. ”
Eri grimaced. “I’ll help. I have some… experience with demon physiology.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I think you have other matters that require your attention.” Deyara nodded to the group some distance away: a gathering of imperial officers, the expeditioners, and the recently ‘rescued’ members of the Church. “Don’t fret, the Fox is on her way. We will save your pet somehow.”
“Thank you,” Eri muttered gratefully. He gave one last concerned gaze to Marchosias before he turned away.
He had some fond memories with the pseudo-dragon, much as he hated to admit. Under his command, the once-Archon seemed to have lost its bloodthirst for human lives and was more concerned with great battles and delicious treats. It was, in many ways, like having a pet.
A giant, gluttonous, lethal, and highly intelligent pet, but an endearing pet nonetheless.
Eri had been scared for its life when he saw its wounded state, and enraged when the imperial soldier started firing on it.
Rationally, he knew he could not blame them. It was only common sense for soldiers to attack a demon.
But it was difficult to accept rationality when it involved the wounding of a precious companion.
“There you are, finally here to chat,” Amber drawled when she noticed Eri approach. “Your dragon alright?”
“I don’t know,” he replied tiredly. “I just… Nevermind. I expect you have questions.”
“Sure. But I think you want to hear what these people have to say first.” Amber stepped away and gestured towards the newcomers.
Eri looked them over. Though they looked unbelievably haggard and worn, they were undeniably members of the Church. Their attire and the arcane tattoos upon their face and shoulders left no other possibility.
“The Goddess blesses you, child,” the oldest among them stepped forth. “You already bear the mark of Silver at your tender age. The Holy Mother surely knows your name, as you know hers.”
“Um…” Eri wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
“Don’t mind him. He sounds nuts, but he means well,” Amber said. “Unlike those whip-loving masochists of the Penitent Order, his faith is harmless.”
The priest huffed in amusement. “Our knights may be prone to fits of ardent violence, but their faith is no less pure. We simply seek to express their devotion in different ways — their through blood split, and mine through blood prevented.”
“You are a healer, then,” Eri summarised. “That is good. Our forces require priests who could use the Goddess Healing Artes. Medicine and herbs can only go so far.”
“We are ready and willing to serve. Though we are few and wounded, our fervour to defy these heretics of the West remains,” the priest promised. “Though I must ask your name, young Chosen. You seem to command no small amount of respect in these holds.”
“He’s a noble of House Elathion. Came with reinforcements from the North a few months back. He’s young, but he’s the leader of the expeditionary force consisting of the blue-bloods and the dwarves on this outpost,” Amber intervened. “It will be best if you just assume his authority is equal to mine. Or greater, even.”
“Greater than even yours, esteemed Hero?” The old man raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, yes, greater than mine. For the non-imperial troops, at least,” Amber sighed. “Look, let’s just get straight to the point. Eri, this is Father Matthew of the Thirteenth Order. His people came from the inner seas. More importantly, they are the survivors from the Church faction of the Kaldreach Coalition. The only survivors.”
Eri took a second to process that. “The entirety of the Church’s forces fighting within the Slaver Isles has already fallen? This can’t be all that’s left!”
Nearly a thousand members of the Holy Order had joined the Kaldreach Coalition. Barely more than a few dozen priests stood before him now. Eri’s Observation Skill told him more bodies were on board the damaged frigate, but the stench of fetid blood was telling. Most were likely already dead or dying.
“I’m afraid it's true. Our vessel was the only one to have fled in time. Even if others survived the initial battle, they would not be able to run for long.” Father Matthew trembled slightly. “The vile fiends, so many of them… A hundred black-sailed vessels surrounded us and brought us to slaughter. Our crew barely escaped the noose before it closed on us, and even then, we would not have been able to break free if not for…”
The priest trailed off, looking at the massive demon on the beach.
“The Goddess sent us a miracle,” he whispered in fearful awe. “Even now, I could scarcely believe what I was. A great beast of Hell, devourer of men, yet it spoke the common tongue, and fought to protect us with a zeal equal to any of our devoted defenders… You spoke their name earlier, did you not?”
Eri hesitated. He weighed whether it was better to remain silent, but he decided it was pointless. The secret was already out anyway. “Marchosias.”
The answer sent a ripple through the ranks of Church members.
“The 35th Archon,” Matthew exhaled breathlessly. “One of the mighty Marquis of Hell, crafted by the Black Damnation itself. Yet its home should lie in the north. How is this possible?”
“A beast that abandons its den is no beast of Hell at all. Impossibly, it has rejected its role. It has rejected evil,” another priest murmured, hands held in prayer. “A miracle. Praise the Goddess, for even her grace surpasses the hate of Hell. Her light shines on all.”
“So you people don’t even know where the creature came from?” Amber demanded. “And you trusted it?”
“We were left with no choice. Or rather, we had no choice to choose,” Matthew clarified. “The battle was lost. The combined heresy of three fleets fell on us — led by the Defiler of Flesh and the Wild Hunt, no less. Outnumbered and already weakened, those godless heretics fell on us like carrion eaters to a dying lamb.”
“Fuck. Well, there’s the confirmation Drake went to Oleander’s side. Shit!” Amber cursed. “She played us like fools!”
“We tried to flee. A retreat was our only choice, yet our prospects were bleak. The enemy were far too many, and our strength was expended. Most of us stayed behind to save even a precious few, but their efforts were in vain,” Matthew continued, his voice rising. “That is, until the beast came. With great breathes of fire and shattering talons, it tore the enemy blockade apart! Even more absurd, it spoke to us, called itself our ally!”
“And you just accepted that?” Eri asked, confused. “I thought the Church would be far more opposed to the aid of a demon.”
“Under normal circumstances, undoubtedly yes,” Matthew nodded. “However, the situation was dire and chaotic. Perhaps more importantly, the more… zealous members of our expedition had already perish fighting dread Oleander and his heretical creations. For the rest of us less capable, shameful as it may be to admit, preservation for our lives won over our hate for demons.
“The Penitent Knights are all dead, then. Or maybe worse, if Oleander captures them alive,” Amber exhaled heavily. “Still, you must have some fighters with you, otherwise you would have never made it out alive, even with a demon guarding your ship.”
“We do have a few, yes. A fresh wave of reinforcements had arrived not long before we were overwhelmed — Retired warriors and old veterans called from all over the North when the Church realised the desperation of our situation,” Matthew explained. “They arrived too late to join the Pentient Knights in their assault of the necromancer’s flagship. A misfortune, but one that saved our lives, for their delayed arrival ensured there were still warriors to aid us in our retreat when the reaping blade came.”
“Are they still any alive with you?” Eri asked. “I understand you have more people on your ship.”
Matthew shook his head. “Not many, I’m afraid. Of the hundred or so warriors that came to aid us, only a few dozen warriors are left in the hold. Even most of those have returned to the Goddess during our long trip here. Those still alive are badly wounded. The rest… The rest gave their lives to buy us time during our escape. Their souls are lost to us; taken by the dread Necromancer or the Wild Hunt’s Queen.”
“It could have been worse. We might have all perished, had it not been for the demon,” one of the younger acolytes nervously muttered. “Once our frigate fought past the blockade, it saved as many of our stranded warriors as it could. Truly, what great wonderment and horror it was to see it spit out our Chosens from its fetid maw, alive! Why would it do such a thing?”
“It spoke cordially with Lady Elen when they fought side-by-side, even with great familiarity and respect,” another acolyte added. “Her position hails from the north as well. Perhaps she might know more?”
Eri’s brain ground to a halt. “Wait, Elen? Did you just say Elen is here?”
“You know of her?” Matthew blinked. “A retired Shield Maiden, called to serve once more. She was previously the matron of an orphanage within a small town. Footfall, I believe.”
“Yes, I know her!” Eri said excitedly. “Where is she? Is she on the frigate?”
The other acolytes shifted uncomfortably. Matthew grimaced.
Eri’s excitement faded away as cold realisation took over.
“Though retired and crippled, Lady Elen’s valour shone brightly as she defended us,” Matthew gently said. “She was one of the valiant few who first boarded the enemy ships blocking our path. Her efforts saved us—”
“I don’t care about any of that!” Eri felt his heart beating faster. “Father Matthew, where is she right now?!”
The elderly priest bowed his head. “With the demon’s aid, who appeared receptive to her commands, the fearless Lady Elen led a small force and attacked the chasing undead heretic’s flagship head on, destroying his necromantic sails and buying us precious time. However, that was the last we saw of her.”
The priest looked solemnly into Eri’s wide eyes. “I’m sorry, young warrior. She is in Lord Oleander’s domain. We pray for she has been returned to the Goddess’s hands. It is all we can do.”
Behind them, Marchosias shuddered awake with a mournful whimper, resounding with Eri’s horrified heartbeats.
