A giant rat, you say? The old man smiled with a crooked tooth, his eyes hidden behind bandages and an old musket resting on his thighs. Havent slled a rat in a while. My cat catches them all.
A hooded visitor, maybe? Marianne asked from atop her giant beetle. The farm was calm and peaceful, with giant snails peacefully grazing moss inside their pens. Their owner lived modestly in a two-floor, hollow stone pillar of a house. There were lights and dancing shadows behind the windows. Soone who didnt show his face, traveling to Paraplex?
The old farr scratched his white beard as he sank deeper into his rocking chair. Though he appeared calm at first glance, Marianne could see the tension in his fingers. A wrong move and he would reach out for his weapon.
Marianne couldnt bla him for being suspicious. The closest farm was half an hour away, and these tunnels werent frequented; the only light ca from the houses or the few lanterns along the road. For all the farr knew, she might have been a highwaywoman or worse.
I swear on the Light, Marianne said. This... man is a criminal and a murderer. If you know anything
Yes, yes. The farr shrugged. Imperial officials only co to collect taxes or hang poachers around here.
Im not here for either. She had too many questions to ask Shelley before she could consider a summary execution. If you do not rember anyone, it is fine. I will be on my way.
There is there was soone. The farr stopped playing with his beard and looked over his shoulder, at the iron, decrepit door of his ho. Dear?
Yes, Da? a younger, female voice answered from the other side.
You said you t a leper while washing clothes at the well?
Yes, poor thing! The woman answered. Bandaged everywhere, wouldnt even show his face or approach ! Said he was looking for a healer to soothe his pain, so I sent him to Emma and he thanked !
Emma? Marianne asked.
The apothecary, the farr replied with a sneer. Closest thing weve got to a healer since our last one took a nap in the dirt, though thinks a few of the villages n pray to her cunt. Her three whelps gotta co from sowhere.
Im sure Werner is the dad! his daughter answered through the door. He visits her every day!
The farr snorted. None of the children look the sa. Youngest one got fire in the hair, while Werners beard is as black as they co.
Marianne wondered how he knew that detail since he was blind. When did it happen? she asked. If the Light had shined on her, she might have finally found a lead on Shelleys itinerary.
My dear washes clothes every first day of the week.
So three days ago? One day after Verney Castles collapse, Marianne counted. It could have been Shelley. Considering his inhuman endurance and speed, he wouldnt have needed a mount to cross the distance in such a short ti. Can you show the way to this lady's house?
The farr gave her directions with a chucklethe house with the garden to the left of the roads second lanternand Marianne tossed him a coin as she left.
It was easy to notice the lanterns in the ambient darkness, and far more difficult to see the road itself. Most routes from Horaios to Paraplex went through Mariannes ho Domain of Saklas, but thankfully Shelley had taken a less frequented tunnel. Since they were far away from Earthmouths, few people inhabited these pathways; this village probably numbered less than forty families dispersed across kiloters.
From their sinuous shape and walls of volcanic rock, the swordswoman suspected that these caves used to be lava tubes and magma chambers. The ceiling was low, and the road would benefit from repairs.
Although her eyes focused on the lanterns lights ahead, Mariannes thoughts turned to another matter. To a revelation and questions she had rehearsed in her head for the last few days, trying to fathom their implication.
Valdemar Verney was a half-Stranger, a living ritual, and cult experint born to serve a nefarious purpose.
But which one?
Was Valdemar ant to serve as his progenitors ssenger in Underland? A living gateway for the Qlippoths to enter the material plane? A vessel for the Stranger to possess? Did the Verney purge truly disrupt this entitys plans, or simply delay them? And most important of all, what was Marianne supposed to do with Valdemar himself?
Captain Lopolds words ca to mind.
So people are too dangerous to live.
If there was any risk that Valdemar might yet fulfill his intended purpose, even unintentionally
An inquisitor wouldnt have hesitated. Though Valdemar was unaware of his heritage, the greater good commanded that he should perish. Every breath this ticking ti bomb took might bring the empire closer to a disaster. Marianne simply had to spread the news, and the Knights would burn the last Verney on a pyre; even Lord Och would probably let it happen, if the information beca public knowledge. The lich didnt fear the masses, but other Dark Lords would pressure him into relinquishing his protg.
Marianne only had to send a single letter, and it would be all over.
And yet and yet she hesitated.
He looks so human, Marianne thought, as she rembered her short discussions with the last Verney. Even the inquisitors couldnt discern his true nature. In spite of his origins and difficult life, he didnt beco a monster. He is a drear who wants to help people.
By opening a portal to another world.
Marianne couldnt help but see it in another light now. Is that even his own desire, or his progenitors? She wondered. Is this Earth even a world of sunlight, or a trap? Will a portal there lead to a den of horrors hungry for human souls?
It had been nearly twenty years since the Verney purge, and besides his incredible resilience and skill at conjuration Valdemar had yet to cause an incident of any kind. True, he had broken the law, but he hadnt driven a town to madness or summoned a Nahemoth as far as Marianne knew. Even Lord Och had taken the young conjurer under his wing rather than dissect him, although he certainly suspected his true nature.
Marianne couldnt make a decision rashly, and so elents still eluded her. The false Mona had ntioned a certain Crtail child, and unlike Shelley had shown no knowledge of Valdemars na. Maybe she had been lying, but the Qlippoth impersonating her was infamous for getting too much into character according to Lopolds Bestiary.
I have uncovered a piece of the puzzle, but many more remain hidden, Marianne thought as she had her beetle turn left after the second lantern on her path. And only Shelley might be able to answer my questions.
Emmas house was located deep in a dead-end cavity, far enough from the road that Marianne thought she had taken the wrong turn at first. Her beetle accidentally stomped on a garden of moss, mushrooms, and dicinal plants the noblewoman had seen before in the Institutes greenhouse. She and her mount approached foreboding stone walls and closed windows. The entrance door was a rusted ruin dug in the cavity itself, so fragile Marianne could probably break the hinges by kicking it.
Is anyone here? she called through the door. She didnt notice any light inside the house, so maybe they were sleeping?
But by now, Marianne had gotten used to bad surprises. She activated her psychic sight, trying to detect the presence of human life inside.
She didnt sense much. Only the hint of smaller lifeforms, of fungi and maggots. The blood inside the house was cold and dead.
No human life in a ho owned by a woman and three children.
Hastily climbing down from her beetle, Marianne unsheathed her rapier. The noblewoman put her ear against the door, and when she didnt notice any noise on the other side, kicked it open.
It wasnt even locked.
Bertrand, cover my The words died in Mariannes throat before she finished her sentence. She had grown used to her retainer having her back on difficult missions, and her mind hadnt accepted his disappearance yet.
She missed him dearly.
With her lantern in one hand and her sword in the other, Marianne stepped inside the house. She didnt make a sound as she walked, her heartbeat quickening as she prepared for an ambush.
The house slled of an unpleasant mix of body odor, cooked at, and alchemical fus. The front rooms stonework was crude and lacked paint, with only a mole rats skin used as a rug. Humble people, a harsh life, Marianne thought as she examined the ground. Mud covered the rug, as if a group had walked out without bothering to clean up afterward. The footprints werent fully dry yet and pointed to the exit.
People had left in a hurry, and Marianne barely missed them.
The noblewoman decided to delay her hunt. She needed to determine the fate of the houses occupants, and if it was indeed Shelleys work Why did the cultist stay days here before moving imdiately to Paraplex?
Marianne moved to the next room, a cramped kitchen mixed with a storing room. The table was set for four, the plates as unclean as a latrine. A cauldron rested on a stone oven, still containing so sort of cold at stew. Marianne moved her lantern over its surface, trying to see what it was made of.
She noticed sothing buried inside the soup, so heavy it had sunk at the cauldrons bottom. A bone, perhaps but it looked too big and round for a mole rats rib. A terrible doubt crossed Mariannes mind, and she used the tip of her rapier to bring the food to the surface.
A severed human head looked back at her from inside the cauldron, the eyes and tongue devoured by maggots.
Marianne would have loved to say that she had grown used to this kind of horror by now, but she struggled against the urge to vomit. The the head belonged to a middle-aged man, grown bloated from the liquid in which it had been soaked. From the black hair around the cheeks, it probably belonged to this Werner the farr spoke of. He must have visited the apothecary, only to find a dangerous guest in the house.
No, Marianne thought as her eyes briefly wandered to the four plates on the kitchens table. Her breath shortened, as the implications beca clear. Please, no
The noblewoman moved into the next room, her steps faster, her movents tenser. The bedroom was a ss, the four straw mattresses covered in animal excrents and the remains of half-devoured rats. If Marianne needed any proof that Shelley was behind this, her suspicions were now confird. She followed the foul sll in the air to narrow stone stairs leading to an attic. The blood-tracker glowed inside Mariannes pocket as she climbed the stairs.
Was Shelley still here? Marianne doubted that he was as she would have sensed him, but she remained on her guard. The odors of herbs and potions mixed with the terrible sll of rot and death as she climbed.
Emma had used her attic as a herbalist lab. It was little more than a kitchen by the Institutes standards, the furniture so old Marianne wondered how it hadnt crumbled already, the tools made of rusted iron or bones. Seeds and herbs dried on a shelf next to a small fireplace and a barrel of fertilizer, while bloodied, broken flasks laid on a workbench. The few books Marianne could find had had their pages torn apart, the potion containers shattered and their contents spilled on the floor.
The blood-beacon grew more agitated when the noblewoman examined the alchemical stains on the ground. Marianne soon noticed red spots among the puddles of healing potion and herbal elixirs.
Shelleys blood.
Had he been trying to experint on his own blood? For what purpose? To find a way to avoid his pursuers?
And that foul sll
Mariane turned her lantern, its light revealing a corpse in the fireplace.
Considering the breasts and body shape, she must have been a human woman once but these were the only hints to her forr identity. The corpse had an elongated rat head, the bloodshot eyes consud by fungi growth. Pustules grew on the furred back, while maggots festered in the slitted throat and stumped tail. The mutants dried blood had been arranged into the dreadful shape of Verney Castles rune, as if the baleful symbol had gorged itself on the creatures life. A sentence was carved into the corpses forehead, a promise and a warning.
We always return to the Blood.
Marianne had no idea how long she gazed at the macabre spectacle, unable to say a word, unable to process what she saw. It wasnt the sight of the symbol that srized her, or the worrying absence of Emmas children that paralyzed her muscles. It was everything, all at once.
Mariannes breath grew shorter and shorter. Am I am I shaking? she thought as she glanced at her shivering hands. The noblewoman trembled as if she had walked straight into a cold chamber.
First that twisted village, then Bertrand, then Valdemars true nature and the implications of his re existence Now Now this
And the children Four plates, but no trace of the children.
It it was too much. Too much all at once.
Marianne sat on the workbench, the lanterns light dimming in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm herself. The noblewoman attempted to ditate, to clear her mind. She closed herself to the foul sll of this tomb, banishing the mories of the horror she had seen.
Was this how Inquisitor Penhew had felt after the Verneys purge? Too many dreadful encounters at once, a dive into the darkness leaving the mind exhausted, the spirit wavering?
What was even the point in continuing? Everywhere she went, it was already too late. Maybe dark gods smiled on Shelley, looking over his work with favor. Investigating the Verney case had only resulted in the loss of Bertrand and unleashing more horrors on the world. Maybe fate was already written, and the forces Marianne fought were beyond her ability to overco.
No.
No, she couldnt give up. Not now, not later. She refused. Not while she could still do sothing.
Bertrand wasnt dead, and could still be saved. Valdemar hadnt beco a monster. The children were missing, but hopefully alive. Shelley could be slain.
Marianne hadnt lost yet. Maybe she would fail to change anything. But at least, she would have tried.
Her heart invigorated with grim determination, the noblewoman opened her eyes and returned to her search. She examined the mutated body, trying to confirm her identity. From the clothes and pouches of herbs around her thorn belt, this was probably Emma herself.
Had Shelley transford her into a monster through the black blood?
We found traces of a modified Beast Plague, the Knights of the Beasts alchemist had said, inoculated during infancy.
Marianne glanced at the alchemical tools, and the remnants of Shelleys blood on the floor.
Its possible Aleksander Verney got his hands on a sample and modified it to include rat genes.
Shelley had extracted the modified plague that turned him into a monster from his own blood, and used Emma as a test subject. Her aging body couldnt resist the changes and perished rather than fully transform.
Only a few days, Marianne thought. Shelley had ransacked this house three days ago and probably left last morning. The illness was lethally effective.
The noblewoman returned to the entrance and examined the footprints with more attention. She confird that so were smaller than others. The children had survived the inoculation, but considering the plates and the lack of resistance, the plague had given Shelley a hold on their mind. They had beco no different than the rats he controlled.
Though the cultists cruel acts filled her with loathing, Marianne couldnt help but ponder the reasons behind them. Was he trying to recruit new minions, to indoctrinate new wererats into the Verney cult? Why hadnt he done it before then?
And why had he been so so careless? Shelley had set his last lab on fire, and been careful to keep his activities hidden for years. And now, he had left the corpse of a sacrifice in the open like a morbid trophy. And though he had made a token effort to break the tools behind him and obscure the purpose of his experints, it struck Marianne as half-assed. A carelessness that bordered on arrogance.
Either Shelley didnt think that it mattered if people learned of his existence and activities or he actively wanted word to spread. Perhaps he took joy in finally practicing his vile religion after years of hiding in a castles crypt and exulted in his newfound mission. But sohow, Marianne suspected a larger sche was at work.
Even stranger, her blood-tracker still mostly pointed towards Paraplex. Even if Shelley recruited a dozen wererats, they wouldnt be enough to bypass the Institutes defenses. If he attempted sothing so foolhardy as an infiltration or assault, Lord Och would slay him.
Unless
Unless Shelley didnt intend to attack the Institute from the front. It would make more sense to stretch its resources thin, or force a desperate situation where Valdemar would have to leave the fortress to help. A terrible disaster that even a Dark Lord would be hard-pressed to deal with...
Mariannes eyes widened in panic as she put the two and two together, and she rushed outside. She climbed on her riding beetle and fled towards Paraplex as fast as she could, without even alerting the locals to their herbalists fate. The danger was too great, and every second wasted would endanger more lives.
Shelley had created a plague, and he had already selected the first carriers.
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