Vigor Mortis

Chapter 167: Resignation

Dead bugs litter the streets. Not one of them so much as twitches anymore. Vesuvius the Inhuman has single-handedly ended the Hiverock invasion. For a while before the end, corpses were raining from the sky as Hiverock soldiers died before even touching the ground.

Of course my squad and I haven’t been given the all-clear, so I’m stuck waiting and watching, unable to help as poor Lark is dragged up onto another island, along with a terrifying cadre of monsters. Vita, Lady Vesuvius, and the now-undead Galdra the Annihilator have engaged in a likely-suicidal attack against our enemy, and I’m helpless to stop them. To my relief and surprise, I spot them a few minutes later—emerging from a massive conflagration of molten stone from the bottom of the island, no less—only for the air to suddenly solidify around them, heralding the arrival of terrifying moth-like creatures I’ve never seen before. Another kind of Hiverock bug, I suppose. They vanish shortly afterwards, and though I don’t see any corpses within the falling ice they leave behind, I have no idea what is happening to anyone.

“Captain?” Xavier suddenly asks. “You holding up alright?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Everyone stay vigilant. Things seem to be over, but we take nothing for granted.”

“Yes ma’am!” my squad choruses. I don’t deserve them.

We end up holding position for over an hour, Hiverock drifting away and leaving us with the dawn before the all-clear is finally called. Throughout all of it, I’m an anxious mess, the stench of dead soldiers and the exhausted breaths of my team hammering themselves into my skull as I’m forced to continue on not knowing if one of my own is alive or dead. I want Vita to live as well, of course. Lady Vesuvius I could take or leave. But Lark… she doesn’t deserve this. Watcher’s eyes, I hope she’s okay.

The team trudges back to the barracks, but I don’t enter with them, instead continuing towards the gate. They’ve earned their rest, but I don’t get to stop until I know my entire squad is safe. I stand outside the city gates for hours, my body aching with the pains of our recent battle. I only let myself relax when I finally smell her.

Lark. She’s alive and coming back. Thank the Wa… bah. I mean, thank goodness. It’s not long until I see her emerge from the trees, her armor completely gone and her clothing in shredded shambles. She’s covered in blood, most of it hers. But she’s alive and whole. I didn’t lose anyone today. She is alone, though, which I find somewhat worrying.

She picks up the pace, jogging towards me when she spots me waving. From the way she occasionally dips lower in her run, her leg muscles twitching, I can tell she wants to sprint. Thankfully, she spares the gate guards the heart attack that would cause. I’m already having to repeatedly assure them that the vrothizo running directly at us isn’t a threat, to rather limited success.

“Captain!” Lark calls out to me as she gets close.

“Lark!” I greet her back, opening my arms to offer a hug. I expect she’ll probably need it.

I turn out to be right, and she collides with me directly, collapsing into my arms. Her breathing is heavy and slightly strained, and since I know there’s no way she got tired from that light jog it’s obviously from stress.

“Is everyone okay?” she asks me desperately.

“Our squad is fine,” I assure her. “Not even a major injury. How are you holding up? What did you guys do?”

“I… we destroyed a lot,” she tells me, shuddering. I squeeze her a little harder, then let go. A light hug is about all that’s appropriate to do in uniform. “It was awful, Captain. They were breeding vrothizo in these massive pits, raising them to produce more eggs. We destroyed as much as we could, but then the Queens came, and… we were useless. We barely survived. Vita didn’t survive.”

Uh-oh. That’s probably bad.

“Where is she then?” I ask.

“She’s one of the Queens now,” Lark whispers. “She has to be.”

Well that’s fucking terrifying. Nothing I can do about that, though.

“What about Vesuvius?” I press. “And what about Karthala?”

“I don’t know,” Lark sighs. “We all got knocked away by a powerful blast, I think Galdra might be dead. I mean, dead-dead. Lady Vesuvius is alive, but she flew off after saying… well. She flew off.”

Huh. That sounds suspicious, but I have better things to do than press that line of questioning.

“And you?” I finally ask. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fully healed,” she assures me.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Lark lets out a shuddering breath, holding herself with both pairs of arms.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I want to be a Templar anymore, Captain,” she says quietly.

For some reason, I’m not shocked by that. If anything, I feel… relieved.

“That’s okay,” I assure her. “We’ll figure something out. I can find you a place to stay if you don’t want to go back to the barracks?”

“No,” she answers, shaking her head. “The barracks is fine. I want to see everyone.”

“Of course. Let’s go.”

Lark nods and I lead her into the city, ignoring the confused and terrified gate guards. They don’t stop us, and that’s what matters. I need to stick close to Lark as we walk down the streets, as I don’t want the city guards attacking her while they sift through all the Hiverock soldier corpses that need to be disposed of. We make it to the barracks before too long, and sure enough I find my squad waiting for us in the sleeping area’s common room. The room stinks of even more sweat and human stench than usual, but it’s almost a relief after the subtle undertones of rot that are starting to pervade the carnage outside.

Bently and Xavier cuddle together on the couch while Harvey leans tiredly on the arm of a chair. They’re all out of uniform, and I gratefully take off my own helmet as I approach. The couple both wave at me, while Harvey just gives me a polite but regretful nod before departing to his room. He is, no doubt, going to pen his report to Templar command about my misconduct. I don’t hold it against him one bit. We all have to do what we think is right, and Harvey is a man that believes in structure and rules.

Xavier scoots a bit further onto Bently’s lap, making room for Lark and I to fit on the couch with them. I gratefully plop onto the far edge and start taking my foul-smelling armor off, Lark carefully wedging herself between the two of us.

“So…” Xavier starts. “You uh, kick Hiverock’s ass for us?”

“Language,” Lark whispers.

Xavier chuckles at that, nudging her lightly in the shoulder with a fist. She smiles slightly at him.

“It’s good to see you’re okay, Lark,” Xavier says.

“Yeah,” Bently agrees. “We were worried. Is… is Penelope okay?”

“She’s alive,” Lark sighs. “I don’t know if she’s ‘okay,’ per se. But she’s alive. Vita’s a bug lady now, we think.”

“Ooh, that sounds bad,” Xavier grimaces.

“Lady Vesuvius’ words were ‘I believe we have either decisively won the war or decisively lost it,'” Lark quotes, matching the noblewoman’s haughty cadence to a T. I have to admit, I get a kick out of it.

“But for now, the battle is over?” Bently presses.

“Yeah, it’s over,” Lark sighs. “We’re okay until next Hiverock night, I guess.”

There’s a pause as we all take a moment to breathe, process, and rest. I feel the fluctuations in the air as members of my squad adjust in their seat, both in movement and temperature. Lark’s body runs noticeably cooler than the average human’s, even though her heart usually beats faster. On warm days, her breath will actually come out cold compared to the air around her, as does any air passing over her quills. Just another little detail about her alien body that I bet only Lady Vesuvius and I have bothered to notice.

“So,” Xavier comments. “That Penelope lady is a hot dragon girl with tail-tentacles now.”

“Yep,” I agree. “She sure is.”

“And just… y’know, throwing this out there, nobody else looked at her and went ‘damn, I wish I looked like that?'” Xavier continues.

“Can’t say I did,” I confirm.

“No thank you,” Lark confirms blandly.

“I like the way I look,” Bently says. “I like the way you look too, Xavier.”

“Oh!” Xavier exclaims, a fake smile splitting his face. “Thanks, I mean… yeah, thank you.”

“But if you want to look like Penelope, I’m sure she’d find time to do that if you asked,” Bently continues. “…And paid her enough.”

“Oh, but that… I mean… you wouldn’t think that’s weird?” Xavier hedges.

“Not if it makes you happy,” Bently answers firmly.

“Oh. Cool,” an absolutely mortified Xavier squeaks. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

Huh. Well. I don’t have any idea what sort of adorable gay chaos is going on between those two, but I hope it works out well for them. I doubt I’m gonna be their Captain long enough to need to care beyond that. And frankly, not caring beyond whether or not it works out well for people is the way I like it. All things considered, that’s all I really want. Maybe Vita’s right about the Mistwatcher. Maybe she isn’t. But I know that regardless of who’s right, what I want is for people to be safe and happy. I’ve realized that saving someone’s immortal soul is less important to me than saving whoever needs help right now. Which leaves me in an uncomfortable position, since my job is the opposite.

“So!” Xavier yelps. “In the interest of embarrassing someone else for a change! Lark! May I touch your head?”

“Wh-what?” Lark jumps slightly. “Why?”

“I wanna scritch your adorable little kitty ears! Obviously!”

The terrified vrothizo looks to me for assistance.

“Let yourself enjoy it,” I suggest. “If you aren’t enjoying it, or it’s uncomfortable for other reasons, you can ask Xavier to stop at any time.”

“I… but I…”

“Lark,” I cut her off. “You’ve done it before. We didn’t have any problems. We trust you. Trusting yourself won’t make you suddenly lose control, it’ll just make you healthier.”

She glances over to Xavier, then to me again, then back to Xavier. Xavier grins and pats his lap.

“O-okay,” Lark mutters, then stretches out overtop of Xavier to give better access to her fluffy head. Xavier, looking absolutely delighted, starts kneading away at the base of her ears, stroking her hair, and occasionally scratching the back of her neck. I watch for a while, letting myself get absorbed in the hypnotic sight of hundreds of hairs flowing around his fingers as he carefully combs her chaotic tangles, pulling out detritus and occasionally coalescing water in the air to wash an area out before pulling it away to dry her again. Lark starts out horribly tense, but as the minutes pass I happily watch her muscles start to relax. I’m the first to hear the low vibrations in Lark’s throat, but soon enough her purring fills the room. I can’t help but smile. I have such a wonderful squad.

“Hey, um, Lark?” Bently awkwardly speaks up. “Would you like me to massage your back?”

“Muh?” Lark eloquently asks.

“Your back looks really stiff. I was just… y’know. Thinking I could help with that? Probably?”

At this point Lark has stretched out across the entire couch, belly-down, with her talons on my lap. The giant claws on her toes are therefore pointed up at me, but I’ve been doing my best to ignore this. Bently’s assessment is entirely correct: since her shirt is such a torn mess, it’s easy to see the tight bunches of muscle formed by tension and stress. Though there’s one obvious problem with giving her a backrub.

“Quills,” Lark murmurs, her voice coming out slow and choppy since it’s spoken mid-purr.

“Y-yeah, uh, I know,” Bently says hesitantly. “But, um, I was thinking I could practice my kineticism magic. With fine detail and pressure work and stuff. If you don’t mind being used as a test subject, I mean.”

“No, m’used to that,” Lark mutters. “Lady Vesuvius… says I’m… a great test subject.”

That’s… you know what, I’m exhausted. I’m going to let that one slide.

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!” Xavier says excitedly. “Hey Captain, you wouldn’t mind getting me a bucket of water, would you?”

I chuckle and shake my head.

“Sure, why not. Let me up, Lark,” I say, tapping her thigh twice.

She dutifully lifts her feet and frees me and I go to collect the bucket. By the time I get back, our little vrothizo is purring up a storm, her quills extended towards the ceiling as a deeply-concentrating Bently uses magic to try and knead the knots out of her muscles. I can see the skin depress from invisible force, running up and down the bunches of muscles, pressing firmly around the base of each quill, and carefully applying enough pressure to get the job done without causing pain, which I suspect in Lark’s case is a lot more than the average person. Does Bently actually know how to give massages? It certainly looks like he has experience. I never knew that about him.

“Ah, thanks, Captain!” Xavier says cheerfully, the bucket instantly getting lighter as the water inside is levitated out of it. “Splay those toes, Lark!”

She does as ordered and the water rushes over to scrub them, swirling around her feet and scrubbing with impressive precision. Damn, they’re giving her the full spa treatment. I won’t deny being a little jealous, both of the pampering and for the ability to actually enjoy that kind of pampering. That much physical stimulation would only make me feel worse, but Lark seems to be absolutely melting in it. Good. The poor thing needs as many happy memories as she can collect.

For my part, I think I’ll go to sleep. I have to spend tomorrow possibly getting charged with treason. I leave the three of them to their fun, head to my room, and quickly manage to pass out from my overwhelming exhaustion.

The torture of waking seems to strike me immediately afterwards, but I know from a thousand little tells that it’s morning. Not that I really have the mental bandwidth to process that until later, as I dutifully filter through my perceptions with an obsessive fervor, knowing that if I don’t manage to remember who I am underneath the unrelenting torrent of sensations then I will surely drown in them. Each breath is an agonizing eternity as every damn dust particle that brushes up against my throat tries to fight for my limited mortal attention. I am not a person, just a screaming cacophony of analysis counting each and every thread on my blanket, pinpointing every heartbeat and footstep, noting every last fluctuation of light from behind closed eyelids. Only when Jelisaveta lives again do I get out of bed, finally pieced together and ready for the day.

I woke up because someone was knocking at the door. They’re still knocking. No wonder it was so damn hard to put myself together.

“I’m coming,” I growl, heading for the door.

I don’t recognize their smell, so it’s probably a new Templar or an aide or something. Sure enough, opening the door reveals a mousy-looking young man with a large, crinkled nose and an arrogant expression.

“Captain Jelisaveta,” he greets, holding out his hand to shake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

I don’t take his hand.

“Likewise, Mister…?”

“Gondleweld,” he introduces himself. “Though you’re welcome to call me Gon.”

His hand is still raised to shake. I still don’t take it. I’m dressed in underthings and a cotton shirt, no gloves. Besides, this man pissed me off before I was even conscious.

“And your reason for waking me up this morning, Gondleweld?” I prompt.

“You have been summoned by the Templar council,” he reports.

I sigh. I figured that would happen, but I didn’t expect them to send such an annoying man. The damn bastard still has his hand out to shake, as if he’s entitled to touch me with those greasy hands of his. Ugh, look at those twitching, dripping pores. And all that dead skin flaking off! Gross gross gross.

“I will get dressed and report to them immediately,” I assure him, and slam the door in his face, causing him to stub his fingers. I call out a halfhearted apology and quickly get my armor on, strapping my weapons into their ceremonial positions. I cast soul sight and soul shield, as is my habit every morning, and take a deep breath through my mouth. Here it is, I suppose. I hope the council can see reason.

Gondleweld, which is somehow the actual name of a living, breathing human, is still waiting for me when I open the door, sucking on the tips of his sore fingers. Yeah, now I’m definitely not touching your hand, buddy. Even his soul is disgusting, like a giant yellowish glob of earwax with only the smallest dab of pulsating red to break up the sheer, unpleasant monotony of his being.

“Captain!” Lark calls out to me, emerging from her room and scaring the shit out of Gondlewondle. “May I join you?”

“Sure,” I agree. “I don’t see why not.”

“T-templar Lark should remain in the barracks, Captain,” Gargleweld insists.

“Has to, or just should?” I press. “Because as her Captain, I already revoked the standing order against allowing her to make public appearances.”

“It is your standing as a Captain that is being put into question,” Gurblewibble answers snidely.

“Well until that question is answered I need to see a written order from a General before you can tell me what to do,” I counter.

“She has no business at the Templar command building, Captain,” Gobblewold whines.

“Well that’s not true at all,” Lark says, holding up a piece of paper. “I need to turn in my letter of resignation.”

“Wh-what? You can’t—”

“Per the law, she very explicitly can,” I cut him off. “And I’m sure she could recite that law to you, but how about instead you stop wasting my time. Let’s go get this over with.”

I strut out into the common room, where I find Xavier and Bently sleeping on the couch together. Xavier stirs as we walk by, elbows his boyfriend, and then the two of them quickly jump to their feet, following me as well. Gah. I have a whole procession of ducklings, now, but I just wanna get fired and take a nap.

Out on the street, Lark stays close to me and does her best not to panic about the many people staring at her. She’s thankfully gotten herself a less shredded outfit; I suspect she probably weaved it overnight. As usual, the Templar uniform and the presence of a perfectly happy-looking Xavier and Bently in civilian clothes go a long way towards indicating that she’s not a threat, but her ears are still flat against the top of her head in shame. Despite that, though, she seems to be doing better. I wouldn’t describe her as ‘relaxed,’ but… well she’s certainly a lot more relaxed than usual.

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about myself. Not only am I walking towards a conversation that might end in my death if things go particularly poorly, but it sounds like that’s just going to be the start of my troubles. A strange, quiet sound cuts the wind a long way from here, but I recognize it nonetheless. Nothing else in existence has the same wing shape, after all.

Vesuvius the Inhuman is coming, and for whatever damn reason she’s heading right towards us.

Her speed is absolutely insane, but she slows down as she gets closer to us, her enormous body and even more massive set of wings hovering to a stop just above us. While the last time I saw her she shone red, her scales are now a brilliantly crystalline white, nearly translucent. She’s absolutely dazzling to look at, and if I’m not mistaken she’s even taller than she was a day ago, now standing at an absolutely massive seven feet tall.

Not that she’s actually ‘standing’ right now, since the talons of her feet are currently holding the headless-yet-still-sapient corpse of Galdra the Annihilator. …At least, I assume it’s Galdra the Annihilator’s corpse, though it’s always possible she’s messily decapitated a second person and stuck her soul in there before dressing it in High Templar armor. Hopefully-Galdra is trussed up with copious amounts of magical glyphs and metal bindings, and while I can’t exactly tell from her nonexistent expression, I imagine she’s rather nonplussed about the whole affair.

“Ah, Lark, there you are,” Vesuvius says with a horrifyingly casual blandness. “If you don’t mind, I need you to ask Galdra here a few questions.”

“Wh-what!?” Lark stutters, staring up at the massive, shining, tentacle-tailed, and still entirely butt-naked dragon lady. “Why me?”

“Galdra is currently under five direct, standing orders that she is incapable of disobeying,” Vesuvius explains, landing in front of us with a loud crash and pinning Galdra to the ground with a scaly foot. “One prevents her from using animancy, which is fortunate but not useful. One forces her to answer Vita’s questions, which naturally has no effect when Vita is not present. One forces her to inform Vita of any escape plans, which is likewise lacking in immediate utility. One prevents Galdra from considering herself important, which is amusing, but likewise useless. But the last order…”

“…Is to answer any question I ask her to the degree of detail she believes I desire,” Lark finishes. “I… see. Should we, um, go somewhere else for this?”

First Lady Penelope Vesuvius the Inhuman looks around at the massive yet terrified crowd of gawking bystanders surrounding us, and grins.

“No,” she says. “Here will work quite nicely. Ask her if she aided or abetted the criminals responsible for the Skyhope perception event.”

My breath catches. Oh, fuck, I remember this. Vita told us about this. She claimed the Templars were behind the perception event, that she had evidence of it and tried to stop it but failed. I remember that day when thousands upon thousands people died to a god’s wrath, the very thing we Templars exist to prevent. I was patrolling out of the city that day. A lot of us were.

We called it lucky.

“…Captain,” Lark says quietly, turning to me. “Is this a trick?”

Hah. It could be a trick, I suppose. That’s entirely within Lady Vesuvius’ power. It could be a massive, elaborate falsehood perpetuated by animancy and malice. I certainly know that’s what the Church is going to say, but what makes me pause here is that most everyone here will believe that. When the Templars match their word against the naked dragon lady, the Revenant, and the vrothizo, the Templars are going to come out on top so hard it won’t even be a competition. So why is Lady Vesuvius bothering to put on a show? Why lie, if it’ll just worsen her position?

This isn’t her MO. It isn’t Vita’s. And I know how being a Revenant works and I heard the order Vita gave. Whatever comes out of Galdra’s mouth is going to be the real truth.

“I don’t think so, Lark,” I tell her quietly. “But it’s up to you if you want to ask.”

She nods. She swallows. She opens her mouth to speak… and then Braum the Ubiquitous appears in a dramatic clap of thunder.

“Penelope Vesuvius,” he declares loudly. “You are under arrest for animancy, blasphemy, murder, and treason. You will cease your illegal action, release the corpse of the High Templar, and submit yourself to trial immediately.”

“Hmm,” Vesuvius blinks at him. “No.”

“Then you leave me—”

“Your real body is on the second floor of the fifth house three streets aftward,” Penelope says, cutting him off. “If you insist on attempting to arrest me using invalid authority—”

Braum’s illusion swings a fist at lightning speed, and Penelope catches it. The crack which rings out over the street nearly bursts my eardrums, and when the ringing subsides the dragon woman continues.

“—I will slay you. But you are a good man, Braum. Better than your superiors. You have earned the opportunity to back down.”

“I am not the sort of coward who would deny my duty just because it risks my life,” Braum growls.

“Ah, I see,” Penelope nods. “My apologies, I did not mean to insult you. In that case, in the unfortunate event that you force me to kill you I will also kill a hundred other citizens of Skyhope, chosen at random.”

I shiver, searching her face for even the slightest hint of a tell, the barest iota of falsehood. There is none. She’s serious. She’s dead fucking serious. The smartest civilians around turn and book it at that, though most of them stick around.

“You… why?” Braum asks. “Why would you even threaten such a thing?”

“Because I wish to spare your life, obviously,” she answers flatly. “You’re just being difficult about it. So tell me, is a hundred people worth your honor? If not, what about a thousand?”

“You’re insane,” Braum accuses.

“Only if my gambit fails, my dear High Templar. Now may I proceed, or do you somehow still believe you can stop me?”

He’s speechless for a moment, and then he vanishes. I suppose that’s as good as giving an answer. Penelope turns back to Lark with a placid smile, as if nothing happened.

“Ask,” she orders calmly.

Lark swallows and nods, approaching the pinned body of Galdra.

“Did you aid or abet the criminals responsible for the Skyhope perception event?” she asks.

Galdra moves for the first time, her body squirming uncomfortably. I see her soul in her body, the threads pulling her around from the inside. When she speaks, it’s really her.

“Yes,” she hisses. “I did. I was ordered to do so. The Church called it divine justice. Said it was the natural fate of any society as squalid as ours.”

There is no silence in the world, not for me. But the city gets closer to it at that moment than it has in a very long time.

“Wh-why?” Lark asks, horror dripping from her voice.

“Because I was told to, I just said that,” Galdra hisses. “Why should I care that a bunch of rich idiots die? The Church says kill, I ask how many. In exchange I get to blow off my handler without consequence, and the fat fucks in charge get to act like they have control over me. They probably even believed it. Their plan was batshit fucking insane, but it worked. The Church is now a higher power than the King. Everyone with a brain knows it. ‘The way the world is meant to be,’ they said. Crazy fucking bastards.”

“Ask her why the alliance with Vita was denied,” Penelope orders next.

“Why did command refuse an alliance with Vita?” Lark dutifully asks.

“I don’t know,” Galdra growls.

“Really?” Penelope asks, raising a scaly eyebrow.

“If I could fucking lie to you I would, you cunt!” Galdra snaps, thrashing against her bindings. “Let me go!”

The crinkling sound of paper worms its way into my cognition, and I glance down at Lark’s hands, each shaking and curled so tightly into fists that her own blood starts dripping lightly from her claws. I just feel… hollow.

“What would you speculate are the reasons?” she demands, unprompted.

“I don’t know. Vita is batshit crazy and needs to die, but even I think it was a dumbass move to put her priority before Ars fucking Rainier! I was just following orders on that one.”

“Oh, fascinating,” Lady Vesuvius comments. “You note that the alliance being suggested is against Ars Rainier. Isn’t the official position of the Church that the man is dead?”

Again, out of nowhere, a clone of Braum appears, his fist already moving to its target. He’s not swinging at Penelope this time, however, but at the Revenant at her feet. With a resounding crack that shatters the stone road below, he strikes Galdra’s body… and it isn’t the least bit damaged.

“A nice try, Braum,” Penelope says pleasantly, “but no.”

He lets out an aggravated sigh, standing up to face the giant scaled woman.

“…My superiors have ordered me to slay you and the Revenant,” he informs her grimly.

“Despite my ultimatum?” Penelope clarifies.

“Despite your ultimatum,” Braum confirms.

“How unfortunate,” Vesuvius the Inhuman answers. “In that case, please inform your superiors that I am taking every surrounding citizen of Skyhope hostage. If you so much as engage me in combat, I will unleash a plague that will kill everyone within a mile.”

She says it loud enough for everyone to hear. Now everyone turns to run, but the panicking crowd find their escape routes blocked off by invisible walls of force. There is a horrifying pause as Braum does not respond, presumably speaking to those in charge of him regarding how to respond.

“…They believe you are bluffing,” Braum eventually answers.

Lady Vesuvius holds out a hand and a young man from the crowd is yanked by the neck towards her outstretched palm. Immediately, Braum moves to intercept the man before Penelope can grab him, but his illusion bursts, disintegrating dramatically into motes of light and letting the innocent man smack painfully into her claws. Braum reforms immediately afterwards, but he seems helpless to assist the hostage. The terrified man scrabbles desperately against Lady Vesuvius’s grip, terror overtaking him as she cuts off his windpipe. And slowly, dangerously, all throughout this utter madness, Penelope’s scales start to shift from white to red.

“Do I look like the sort of woman to bluff about this, Braum the Ubiquitous?” she asks, her voice bubbling with the first hint of anger I’ve heard since she got here.

“You… you have nothing to gain from such indiscriminate slaughter,” Braum insists.

Penelope stares at him. The man chokes.

“You would make yourself a monster in more than body,” Braum insists.

Penelope doesn’t move an inch.

“This is Skyhope! Your home! You’ve spent your entire life serving this city!” Braum shouts.

“You as well,” Penelope answers calmly. “So will you leave me be, or let it die?”

“I…”

“They’re ordering you to fight, aren’t they?” Penelope asks, shaking her hostage once as he chokes. “They care about my death more than their own people’s lives. Do you?”

“Damn you,” Braum hisses. “Is this what you wanted…?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Lady Vesuvius asks coyly, her scales turning slightly yellow. “If your personal values are conflicting with your orders, that would be quite strange. Why would your superiors be so desperate to prevent me from having a conversation with a dead woman that they’d risk the entire city? You still have my biological weapons lab here. I can kill you all with a thought, what do they expect you to do?”

“I… they are not changing their minds,” Braum whispers.

“How awfully foolish,” Penelope notes. “Are you going to follow your orders like a good little dog, then?”

“Damn you,” Braum repeats. “Damn you, Vesuvius.”

He disappears as his answer once more, and Penelope smiles, loosening her grip on her hostage and letting him breathe again. She brings him carefully to the ground, holding him by the shoulder as she releases his throat to prevent him from running as she casts a spell to heal the damage she just caused. The barrier preventing the fifty-plus people on the street from fleeing doesn’t disappear, though.

“People of Skyhope,” Penelope intones, and her voice carries impossibly far, bolstered by magic. “You know me, or you know of me. Your War Lady of Miracles. Your Baron of Wood. Your Watcher-Touched Healer. You have seen my toils for this city and reaped their benefits. You called my name in the streets, and my cognomen in your homes. I am Vesuvius the Inhuman.”

She lets her hostage go, standing back up to her full height.

“As you can see, I have embraced the title. I will not pretend to be a good woman. You have seen my measure today. But so, too, have you seen the measure of your current rulers. They who would sacrifice you like sheep to keep their secrets. They who are just as monstrous, yet hide behind righteousness. They who lied about Ars Rainier’s death for over fifteen years, they who brought the Mistwatcher’s wrath upon us all! And when I came too close to uncovering their evil, I was kidnapped and my soul was torn asunder! I am the monster they made, those liars and cowards of the Church, and I will not rest until their evil is brought before the god they falsely claim to worship!”

It’s a chilling speech. Perhaps not a compelling one, considering that Lady Vesuvius just scared the everloving shit out of her main audience. But the whole city just heard those words, and rumors will start to fly about the context behind them. They won’t be very compelling on their own… but if Braum resigns, that might change things. The quintessential straight-laced guy suddenly losing his position will seem like there’s truth to the corruption at the highest level of the Church. It’s not the worst plan, though it certainly had a few too many genocide threats for my taste.

For my part, I still just feel numb. Every bit of logic I can scrounge up tells me this is true, but I still can’t believe it. It’s too much. I’ve devoted my entire adult life to the Templars, and I barely even got a childhood. They’ve been my dream, my reason for being, my shining beacon of good in a fucked up world that just keeps getting worse. I’ve seen, time and time again, how we don’t live up to our values. But we’re only human, right? We all make mistakes. Perfection is impossible. All I had to do was look towards the good, and I’d find it. All I had to do was look away from the evil, and I’d stop seeing it.

I’ve given them everything. Everything. It can’t be true.

“Now then,” Penelope says, turning to Galdra. “I suppose it is time to put the architect of my misery out of her own.”

“What!” the late High Templar snaps. “I did everything you wanted!”

“Under duress, yes,” Penelope answers blandly, her scales getting darker.

“That counts!” Galdra insists. “Look, I’m not going to fuck with you again, Vesuvius. I learned my lesson.”

“Ah, so you intend to cooperate,” Penelope says calmly, her scales dipping into a deep, hateful black. “It’s funny. Back when I was first captured, you implied that you were a lot like me, just older and more experienced. And when I begged you not to alter my soul, when I promised I would simply cooperate to avoid the fate you planned for me, you asked: ‘will you actually? Or will you try to be the clever little bitch you so desperately need to believe you are?'”

She stomps down on Galdra’s arm, smashing it into half-rotten, half-desiccated flesh dust. Galdra hisses in pain, the threads of anima holding that part of her body together shattering.

“…But I’m already on your side, Vesuvius,” Galdra hisses. “Whether I like it or not. Your pet Lich got me. Your cute little necromancer girlfriend. She’ll want me alive, we both know I’m quite the catch. And you’ve already proved you can lock me up and keep me under control as much as you want.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” Penelope muses, seeming annoyed. “Even if it’s only to eat you, Vita will want you alive. But there’s a slight problem with that argument, Lady Karthala.”

Penelope’s massive tail starts winding around Galdra’s body, surrounding her and lifting her bodily up to meet her face-to-stump.

“I don’t care all that much about what Vita wants anymore,” Vesuvius the Inhuman hisses. “You made sure of that.”

She flexes her massive tail and Galdra’s body is crushed into paste, her soul annihilated forever. I watch wordlessly as Penelope takes a deep, slow breath, the tiniest of tensions flowing out of her as the mangled corpse drops down to the earth.

“I enjoyed that too much,” she declares quietly to herself. “I’ll have to make adjustments.”

Lark staggers forward, dropping to her knees and putting a still-bloody hand atop the former High Templar’s shattered armor. Tears drop down from her eyes, mixing with and smearing the black.

“Fuck,” she swears.

No one has anything to say for a while after that. Xavier and Bently have simply stood in silent horror throughout the entire engagement, and the rest of us join them now, except for the bystanders, who are all finally getting the chance to flee. Penelope, master of tact that she is, has to be the one to break the silence.

“Well,” she begins, clearing her throat. “I suppose I should get going. I have a coup to lead, after all. Lark, Jelisaveta, Bently, Xavier… would you like to join me?”

We stare at her, dumbfounded.

“Why would you even want me, Lady Vesuvius?” I ask.

“Melissa misses you,” she answers simply.

I feel my jaw open, then close, then open again. No. No, it’s not… it’s one thing to say that maybe the scriptures aren’t exactly one hundred percent true. It’s another thing entirely to claim that the people in charge of leading the institution of the world’s morality are mass murdering psychopaths. I can’t believe it. I can’t.

“I have a meeting with Templar Command,” I say dumbly. “They summoned me.”

“Somehow I doubt they’ll be holding audiences today,” Penelope replies sardonically.

“I… I have a meeting,” I repeat. Am I shaking? “Braum. Hey, Braum! There’s no way you’re not still listening right now! You’re with them, aren’t you? I have a fucking meeting!”

Sure enough, one of Braum’s illusions appears before me, keeping a careful distance away from Penelope.

“I believe your meeting has been de facto canceled,” he answers flatly, and suddenly I’m furious. I need to scream at something.

“Braum,” I hiss. “What’s my sentence?”

“No sentencing has been decided,” he informs me. “There is to be a round of questioning first.”

“Well I’ve got a fucking question,” I demand. “Did they do it?”

He takes just a little bit too long to answer.

“Did they fucking do it!?” I shriek.

“They deny any such plot,” Braum says.

“Show me.”

“Pardon?”

“You are the best damn kynamancer in the city!” I shout at him. “Show me. I want to see their face when they answer. I want to hear the words as they sound from Command’s mouth! Let me see it!”

Again, Braum pauses and I almost punch him. It’s not true. It’s just slander, or a misunderstanding, or something. I didn’t spend my entire fucking life working for monsters. Braum’s illusion puts its palm face up, and above it I see the projected face of one of the men in Templar Command.

“Of course we didn’t allow it to happen,” the illusory head says with the man’s voice. “The accusation is patently absurd.”

And he’s lying.

I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice. He’s lying. The illusion ignores so many details, it has so many imperfections, but it doesn’t matter because he’s still clearly, obviously lying as easily as he breathes. My every instinct tells me so. Is this what I’ve been serving? Every strange patrol around the time of the perception event. Every abuse I failed to stop and justified to myself in Site 4. Every fucking death caused by Vita because not a single damn person making the decisions would just listen to me and leave her alone. All of it, all those times I thought they knew better, all those times I thought I was doing the right thing, all those times I thought I could be proud of myself for helping people… I was just helping these greedy, murderous, power hungry bastards.

“Liar,” I hiss. “He’s a liar. I’m canceling my meeting permanently, Braum. I resign.”

“I… I’m afraid you can’t resign, Inquisitor Jelisaveta,” Braum answers weakly. “You know animancy. To not be an Inquisitor would break Valkan law.”

I glance at Vesuvius. She’s smiling, because fuck her. But still…

“Better the woman who admits she’s a monster than the monsters that call their evil justice,” I declare. “I renounce my position in the Templars regardless of the law. And until it is reformed, I renounce my citizenship in Valka itself. You do not hold power over me.”

“I do the same,” Lark declares. “Not that I was ever a citizen of Valka. Or even a person to most of you! You just used me to try and kill anyone inconvenient for you!”

“Yeah, I’m fucking out too,” Xavier growls. “Fuck all of this, I’m siding with the hot dragon lady.”

“I trust my Captain,” Bently says. “I trust Xavier and I trust Lark too. I go where they go.”

Damn it. I have the best squad.

“What about you, Gongledongle?” I ask, turning to the shivering aide who got me up this morning. “You wanna defect too?”

“N-no!” he squeaks in horror, snapping out of his terrified stupor with a jolt when I address him. “No, you’re all insane!”

“Yeah, I hated you the moment you knocked on my door,” I grumble. “Well there you go. You fucking win, Vesuvius. We’re with you.”

“What a wonderful start,” she muses happily. “Hang onto me, would you?”

She holds out an arm and, after only a moment’s hesitation, we all grab on. A flash of magic crashes over us and suddenly we’re in a different place entirely, deep in the forest and surrounded by bustling humans, monsters, and undead all working together. Vita’s camp. It’s grown far beyond what I ever expected. It’s beautiful, it’s terrifying, and immediately I’m gripped with the fear that I made some horrible, horrible mistake.

“Now then,” Penelope says with a smile, clapping once to get our attention. “Who’s ready to become immortal and take over Verdantop?”

Ah, yeah. There it is.