‘A better person than I deserved either. Well, farm boy, thank you kindly for the smoke, but I think you should best get moving,’ Laes mused, nodding his head to a trio of guards, their glares a tad more serious than that of the crowd.
Thelonious nodded and clapped the devil on the shoulder, but paused as he went.
‘Want me to kill you now?’
Laes nearly dropped the cigar as he laughed. ‘No, no, thank you, I appreciate the mercy, but if she’s going to burn, she at least shouldn’t burn alone.’
Thelonious frowned. Giving Laes’ shoulder one more pat, he walked away, musing, ‘You’re alright, devil.’
The priest returned, leading her through what looked rather like her father’s barracks, but with a lot more stone and religious iconography. Warriors, calling them soldiers seemed inappropriate somehow, stepped aside to let her pass, giving curious glances as she went.
She was led into a small office, the priest bidding her farewell and closing the door behind her. Like everywhere in this place, the room was lit by sunlight pouring in from a stained-glass window. It was set behind the desk where the room’s occupant sat. He was a tall man, her father’s age, perhaps a bit older, with long, greying brown hair and a thick beard of the same. He looked exhausted; run down in a way she had not seen in anyone else in this place. They’d all seemed like they were invigorated somehow, call it religious fervour, but it was like the fire was out in this man.
‘Lady Petranski? It’s my pleasure. My name is Leoric.’ He stood up, giving her a bow and the symbol of Soel. She returned it with a curtsy. ‘Please, sit. Adrian told me a little, but I fear you have quite the story to tell.’
Syline nodded, taking her seat and thanking him. It took her a few moments to collect her thoughts and figure out how to begin.
‘I suppose I should start at the beginning?’ Her eyes sank down to the table, fingers toying with the grain of the wood. She told him her story, starting from her decision to stay the night in the library, and hearing the glass break. She only left out two singular details, firstly, that she still had the book. In this place, she feared they may mark her as ‘tainted’ for carrying it, or take it from her, especially with the looks Leoric gave her as she told her story about Jane. Secondly, what happened in the lumber mill. She only told him that she was attacked by the man and fought him off, then Thelonious rescued her from the ensuing bar fight.
When she was done, she realised there were tears in her eyes, she couldn’t even exactly explain why. Relief, maybe? Or perhaps, perhaps she just needed to tell someone all this. Gods, so much had happened in only these last few days. She’d experienced more pain, more stress, more fear than she ever had in her life in less than a week. She suddenly felt so very tired.
Leoric nodded solemnly to himself.
‘Alright, we have a matter to tend to internally, but tomorrow afternoon an escort will be organised to take you home. We’ll ensure you see the king, Lady Syline. No corruption, monetary or magical, will sway my men.’
‘So, so you believe me then?’
He smiled softly, there was so much sadness in his eyes.
‘I do. For tonight, you can stay here in the cathedral. I’ll have quarters organised for you. Someone will collect you if you wait here.’ He made to stand, but Syline stopped him by asking, ‘Are you alright? You seem’ – she hesitated – ‘sad.’
The paladin let out a melancholic chuckle, knuckling his eye.
‘Is it that obvious, is it? You are a kind girl, to worry about me with so much on your own plate. Yes, I am.’ His voice cracked. ‘I am well.’ It came out strangled. ‘An internal matter, one of our own was found consorting with devils and refuses to repent. She’ll’ – his breath came out slow, shuddering – ‘be executed tomorrow. She was close to me, before her fall. She was my daughter, adopted, but still. Her turn from the light of Soel weighs heavily. As does what we must do.’
Syline felt all the blood drain from her. She didn’t know how to take that; she didn’t know how to respond. What could you say to that?
‘I’m sorry,’ she managed, in a small voice. ‘Do you, do you have to kill her? Couldn’t you exile her?’
‘If I, if we make an exception for our own, it sets a bad example. That was the church’s decision, she is to be made an example of.’
Syline felt like she was stepping into another world. She suddenly realised the cultural gulf between Russenholde and its ally. They might say they are one and the same nation, but these were different people. At home, the church would never wield such power. A thought occurred to her.
‘My, my bodyguard, Thelonious? The one who saved me from the tavern? He’s hellblooded. That’s not consorting with devils, is it? He’s a kind man. He hasn’t done anything wrong, but people have been glaring at him all day.’
Leoric paused to look at her, she saw it there again, that judgement. But she saw pain in those eyes as well, regret. The words he spoke next came hollow, as if he spoke the beliefs of someone else.
‘Kind he may be, but unless he repents the sin of his birth, the corruption of his origin will always sit upon his soul. No, speaking with him is no crime, it was not his choice to be born so, but it was his choice to not turn himself to a church for a higher purpose. It does not sound like he is a templar bound to any god, so the taint will remain. The people of Dawnsteel are not barbarians, no harm will come to him unless he harms another, but I would advise he doesn’t remain in the city any longer than necessary. If he is coming with you to Russenholde, perhaps it’s best if he rides separately to my men, for his sake.’
Suddenly, Syline had little wish to stay in this city any longer than necessary either. As Leoric made to leave, she said again, ‘I’m sorry about your daughter.’
She heard him clear his throat, like he was pushing something down.
‘So am I,’ he said, almost whispering, and left.
Some time passed before Syline and Thelonious were able to reconvene. She was shown where she would be staying for the night, a small, but well-appointed guest chamber hidden away in the many winding corridors of the shockingly large cathedral. She left what she had been carrying with her before stepping out to wait for Thelonious, dawdling in the open mouth of the cathedral. She found herself waiting for about ten minutes before her bodyguard came into view from a side-street. He ignored the looks the guards at the threshold gave him, but Syline did not, turning their way to glower back. It wasn’t right. Perhaps it was just her guilt at her own presumptions about him, but the open hostility some of these people showed him was really rubbing her the wrong way.
‘It’s fine, Syline,’ Thelonious murmured, noticing the look.
‘No, it’s not, it’s not right.’ When she looked at Thelonious, she saw he was smiling, eyes full of gratitude, but that was not what drew her interest. ‘Oh no!’ She leant in to inspect his shirt, where splotches of tomato juice had left red stains in the fabric. ‘What happened to your lovely shirt?’
Thelonious let out a small chuckle, wiping at an errant tomato seed. ‘Don’t worry about it, though, you can’t clean it, can you? You know, with magic?’
Syline bit her lip, considering, cleaning magic was easy, but it was not as good for stains. Once something set in, basic sigils had a harder time dealing with it.
‘I might – emphasis on might – be able to? Maybe give it to me when we have a moment, and I’ll see what I can do tonight.’
‘Right, will do,’ he said with a brusque nod. ‘So, how did it go? Are you sorted?’
Syline beamed. ‘Looks like it! They said in the next few days, they’ll be organising a group of the Dawnguard to take me directly to the king, not stopping for anyone.’
‘That’s great, Syline, that’s great.’ Thelonious let out a small sigh, glad to hear the sweet girl would finally be able to go back to her own normal life. ‘Not much of a need for me to look after you then?’
Syline blinked, pulled up short. ‘What?’
