NOVEL NEXT Chapter 145: ... to the Grave.
"You haven't molted." Enkidu's face was implacable.
"No reason to lose access to the lord's brand, cousin." Klavier (or the demon calling itself Klavier) strummed on its twisted instrument.
"We're human enough," said the demon that was Baldr.
Indeed, Baldr and Perarde were the most humanoid of the group. A recognizable face sat behind the dark Paladin's demonbone helm. That Perarde was, in fact, a demon and also wearing its dead fellows as armor left Calaf's spear arm trembling.
"Shall we kill the wayward one?" Walter pointed its jagged blade towards the party. "Or the human pets first?"
Archpope Breakspear gazed at the quadruple threat of demons.
"For the record, I was not aware of this," the archpope said, hands steepled. "But, I did have my suspicions."
The treacherous advisors towards the end of the hidden testaments. Calaf found himself nodding, suddenly understanding a great many happenings he was only just scratching the surface of.
"How long have you been here?" asked Bede.
"Since the beginning." Baldr shrugged. "Well, we hid amidst the spawning muck glands for a year or two. Father's miasma has a habit of altering perceptions. Just had to worm our way in as friendly voices, and viola, we were there for the founding of the church."
"The Church of the Menu has been lousy with demons this entire time?!" Jelena asked, incredulous. "Even I wasn't expecting things to be that bad…"
"We just clear the path," Baldr elaborated, shrugging towards the archpope. "For gents like Bede here. It's the human touch that really guides the faith."
"It's Archpope Breakspear," said Bede.
"Right. So, for the past two hundred years at least, the ecumenical council – and particularly ambitious archpopes – have stewarded and edited the lord's Menu." Baldr clicked its mandibles together.
"If humans wish to continue, of their own volition, to pursue the mission of our Lord AllFather," Perarde added. "Who are we to interfere?"
Zilara took a step backward. "We're not getting out of here without a fight," she whispered.
"Can you kill them?" Jelena asked Enkidu.
"All at once? In this form? Unlikely."
"Can you keep them at bay?" Jelena managed.
"Possible."
Klavier took a step forward. "Oh, venerable Bede."
"Breakspear."
"Oh, venerable Breakspear!" Nimble fingers strummed the ruan. "These vile brigands are the last threat to your rule!"
Calaf brought his shield up. Uh-oh.
"Allow us to slay these foul, usurping assassins, who will surely spread dissent and lies against your perfect and glorious reign, oh Archpope Breakspear."
"Proceed." At no point did Bede stop looking through his steepled fingers
With scarcely enough time to raise his shield, Calaf blocked a full-force blow from Walter. The sheer power of the long, sickle-like blade sent Calaf reeling. He would have fallen backwards down the stairs had Jelena not braced against him.
A lateral slash from Enkidu forced Walter to retreat, by which point Perarde rumbled forward. No number of flurries, no matter how swift, from Enkidu's gladius could penetrate the Hammer of Faith's demonbone guard. Baldr skipped across the hole in the Demon King's skull, leaping on stepping stones of translucent barriers. Jelena shot one out from under him, but not before he was able to shift his weight and land one stone ahead.
"Just put their corpses with the ecumenical council for disposal." Bede rose from his chair, then pocketed it into Inventory. He took off towards the 'signal tower' at a leisurely pace.
Calaf put his full weight into a spear thrust, aiming for the joint between Perarde's armor. The dark paladin was preoccupied, blades locked with Enkidu, and unable to riposte or block. The spear-tip sank deep, piercing the outer bone armor and demonic chitin both.
The HP bar appeared in the Interface, hovering over Perarde's shoulder. Calaf knew intellectually that it ticked down two hit points exactly. But visibly the gauge did not move.
Without turning to face his former Paladin understudy, Perarde put all his weight into pulling his shield back and countering with a standard Shield Bash. The bash flung Calaf against the wall, health hovering around ten hit points. His spear slid ineffectually against the dry demonbone of the grand cathedral.
Can't even damage the floor, Calaf gritted his teeth.
A heal from Zilara topped him back up. As he rose to his feet, he noticed a figure rushing at him. He paused for a moment before pulling up his weapon. This proved fortunate, as it was Jelena.
"Zil, guard the exit!" said the relic thief as she pulled her Paladin beau up by his neck gorget. "Calaf, we have to get Bede, now!"
Enkidu was taking the arbiters three-to-one, a third of the way across the newly-formed pit. They could snake around the long way and make it right to the signal tower, where Bede had retreated.
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Retreating was the smart move. Smart, but short-sighted. With Breakspear now the sole authority in the church of consequence, he could sic the full might of every arbiter, auxiliary, and individual town watch upon them. Some level of anonymity was essential to a life on the lam. Checkpoints, sweeps, that Target finding spell. All manner of tools could be used to—at great cost to the law-abiding populace and brigands both—to put Jelena's free-spirited outlaw days to an end. Pressure, applied like a dire-anaconda across entire regions.
Calaf looked into Jelena's eyes and saw fear. Not just of that crackdown ending their freedom, but of Bede's ability to switch off life-essential functions in the Menu. If he did it to every Paladin in the Demon Lord's Fall or Fellmarsh it would kill most auxiliaries, but also Calaf as well. That alone made retreat a losing proposition.
Retreat and standing their ground were both suicidal. The only way out, then, was a full-throated charge.
And so Calaf renewed his grip on his spear and rushed around the right side of the pit, the gaping wound that marked the Demon Lord's kill shot.
Enkidu continued his battle on the far side, repelling Walter and forcing Baldr to keep his distance, but failing to pierce Perarde's guard. A few ranged shots from Zilara mostly annoyed the Arbiters. Then Klavier cast a song on his ruan, and the trio started moving thrice as fast.
This is what fighting demons was like. Calaf still felt vestigial pain from Perarde's shield bash. Implacable. Unstoppable. And to think that Roland and Mia slayed these things on the regular! With regret, the Paladin felt they should have done more to gain experience ahead of time. Use more level-up baubles – Menu only knew the Olde Heroes did! He was going up against the archpope before hitting level seventy!
But the time to prepare had long passed. They'd be doing this fight now, win or lose, live or die.
The sound of Enkidu's sword just barely parrying speed-enhanced arbiters continued to echo off bone-dry walls as Jelena and Calaf rushed behind the signal tower. The plain stone and brick stood out against the demonbone of the Grand Cathedral's roof, as did a plain wood set of double doors.
Calaf held his shield out, the better to protect against traps, and bashed the back door down.
Within, the tower was austere. Not meant for human habitation, more to channel power from down in the demon's skull out into the atmosphere. Bede was there, having placed his chair back down on the far side of the room.
"As we were saying before we were so rudely interrupted…" Jelena brandished a second flintlock.
Another shot echoed through the cacophonous stone chamber. Bede appeared aglow, a barrier rapidly oscillating as the bullet disintegrated on contact.
"I have, of course, studied barrier magic extensively." Bede sighed. "Now, I'm going to talk for a bit and you're going to listen…"
"You are awfully damn cocky," Jelena interrupted. "You think you can rule the entire church single-handedly?"
Bede motioned around. "With this? Yes."
"I still can't attack him," Calaf whispered to Jelena.
"Just get him to drop that barrier and I'll do it," she said. Then, to the archpope: "Well, what is your master plan, oh wise one?"
"To rule. We've established that."
Calaf scoffed. "You're just Honest John if he could go two days pretending to adhere to authority and hierarchies."
"Who?" Bede scrunched his face up, then resumed: "Look, you're going to try and kill me and it's not going to matter. I'm not the one who is going to do the fighting."
The pair paused. What did he mean by that?
"Narrative," Bede continued, "is key. To everything. How society lives with itself. How individuals, past a certain level of influence, manage to operate at all. Past a point, reputation becomes self-reinforcing Y'see? A regional trader becomes known as a deal-maker because his brand is 'he who makes deals.' A lone visionary, maintaining order after the untimely deaths of the ecumenical council at the hands of a wily confederation of thieves and assassins. Who brought their infamous ringleader Jelena Turandot to justice? That's a powerful story by which to begin— and consolidate— my reign."
Skin on Calaf's arms crawled.
"Jelena, shoot him now," Calaf begged. "Something's up."
"What narrative do we have here?" Bede asked. "A free-spirited cutpurse, having unshackled – or corrupted? – a brave knight away from the strictures of faith? Who followed this libertine streak right to the very halls of the Demon Lord's Fall, where together with her fallen-from-the-faith beau, they killed the archpope at the moment of his ascension? Some would like that story."
Jelena reached around her back to pick up the first of her final three flintlocks.
"Or, perhaps." Bede leaned forward further still. "An infamous priest-slayer, thwarted at her moment of triumph, mere feet from the ultimate episcopicide, by one last act of redemption from a soul who had been led astray."
The Menu appeared with a glow from the Brand on Calaf's left arm. He hadn't opened it. Most options were greyed out still, aside from [Attack]. Only, the target wasn't Breakspear.
Calaf dropped his spear, one of a few actions still available to him. He'd guessed what was coming, but could not prevent the Menu from following up with a Sheild Bash. His muscles moved despite himself, and Jelena was sprawled out across the floor.
"Ah. Hey, what…" Jelena stopped talking.
Step by anguished step, Calaf advanced. Everything was performed by the Menu, none of it with the Paladin's consent. All the while, Bede glanced between Jelena and Calaf, his eyes tracking the steady advance, but his head never moved.
Bereft of his spear, [Attack] options came in the form of grappling. Worse still, the options scrolled down until it arrived at [Strangle]. To Calaf's horror, the heavy gauntlet on his spear-hand wrapped around Jelena's neck and began to squeeze. It was purposeful and slow, and he felt each muscle move and flex even as he struggled to guide them anywhere else.
"This will make a fine climatic act of your passion play," Bede said, disinterested. "The Tragic Fall of Sister Turandot. Hmm? There will be no attempts made to stop the tale from being told along the path. Outlaw narratives help vent frustration among the proles. So long as they end with guards kicking the door to the hideout down, or, well, like so…"
Calaf's grip tightened despite himself. Jelena only looked at him, not even shocked at the seeming betrayal, but entirely cognizant of what was going on.
"F-fight back," Calaf begged. "It-it's."
"It's not a charm," Bede interrupted. "It's Menu Control. Not mind control. Your boyfriend is fully cognizant of what's happening, with no way to stop it."
A low chuckle filled the room, courtesy of Bede.
Of course, she wouldn't fight back. Not enough to maim Calaf—the minimum force necessary to free herself from this predicament. Most were not equipped to fend off a loved one at the best of times. And they'd been together near-constantly for the past year, souls intertwined. Her feet rose off the floor as the Menu-hijacked Calaf continued to throttle his love.
"I'm sorry," Calaf said. The Menu had no option for tears.
Maiming… maiming… Calaf still had his mind. It would require maiming Calaf, perhaps irreparably, to salvage this situation. What could he do, with every option to avoid murdering Jelena blanked out? With every second, Jelena's good eye grew less focused.
There was still one hand free. He unsubtly and through muscle-shearing resistance moved it towards a scabbard on Jelena's side. A fancy dagger in the style of the Firefield desert nomads, the woman's ancestors, sat within. Understanding flashed through Jelena's barely conscious face. Permission. Acceptance. She reached down, brandished the dagger, and jammed it into the soft flesh below Calaf's wrist. His grip weakened, as did Bede's compulsions. It was enough to grant Calaf full control of his off-hand. He grabbed the knife and Jelena's hand, still wrapped around it, and sliced with a mighty war cry.
Bede's grin grew wider as the dagger exited Calaf's wrist. Searing pain filled Calaf's vision. And his Brand, inherited since birth, was severed in two. Vision turned red as the pain caught up.
The glow of the Menu forever faded…