A Routine Matter

After parting ways with Calvus, Noah planned to return to the chapel. Cyrene had changed into an expensive satin dress, elegantly designed with auspicious patterns on the silk sleeves, in subtle, understated colors. Behind her followed two silent and disciplined mercenaries sent by Calvus, who worked diligently without involving themselves in unrelated matters. If one wasn't paying attention, their presence could easily go unnoticed. Noah admired such professionalism.

"Hello, hello," Elysia greeted Cyrene repeatedly, "How are you?"

She won't respond to you. Noah thought.

"I'm Elysia, from Greywood Hall," Elysia said cheerfully, prancing around Cyrene as if to deliberately capture her attention.

Elysia ran to a candy stall by the street, pulling out three copper coins from her sleeve, and picked up a stick of honey candy, waving it in front of Cyrene.

"It's something to eat," she repeated gleefully, "Do you like it?"

"Don't do that," Noah felt Elysia might be a bit too lively.

Unexpectedly, Cyrene moved.

She reached out, took the candy, and stood on the street examining it for a while.

"Is it sweet? It used to be when I ate it," said Elysia excitedly, "Do you like it?"

Cyrene peeled off the linen wrapper and ate the candy, then nodded.

"It's sweet," she replied calmly.

Noah sensed a change; she was beginning to respond to external stimuli.

"Do you remember your name?" Noah asked.

Cyrene ignored Noah and just held Elysia's hand, staring blankly at her.

"Hey, you look so weird," Elysia shook Cyrene's hand, "but it's okay. Do you know what time it is? It's noon, and we're going to eat. Will the chapel give us food?"

"The chapel is mine. Of course, we'll have something to eat there," Noah nodded.

"You look quite the part," Elysia appraised him up and down.

As they crossed a small square, they passed a statue of Gerard I "the Strong," a figure from three centuries ago, who had conquered Greywood Hall from the Frostfall barbarians. The king was depicted on horseback, spear pointed towards the heavens, a paragon of might. The current king, by contrast, was said to be a gloomy ruler, in power for so long, commanding the loyalty of the masses. He rarely made public appearances, instead sending out spies to maintain connections with different lands.

"Just by hearing it, it sounds like he's been seduced by dark forces. Your king is definitely a demon overlord," Gladius muttered.

"That's not possible," Noah countered internally. "The West Coast has hunter organizations, court wizards, the Grand Justiciar, as well as the Council of Nobles and Protector Oliver Ding. They can all check the king's power. If there's something wrong with him, they would impeach him."

"That must be the work of one of my kin, so seductive that it fooled the entire court. Isn't that common? How many can keep a calm heart in the face of demonic power?" Gladius remained unconvinced.

"If he truly was a demon, how could our nation have functioned so smoothly until now? It would've been stricken with divine wrath and countless calamities long ago."

"Maybe it's because there are fools like you jumping around, patching things up with futile efforts. Our strategy is always slow and steady..."

They spotted a group of clerics crossing the square, clearly high-ranking, led by a full cleric in purple vestments, heavily adorned, carrying a holy book. Flanked by two armored guards in purple, they ensured no harm would come to him. Behind the cleric were three cantors, taking turns chanting from "The Divine Words of the Meimen Hall," which recounted the words and legendary acts of the Lomen gods.

Following these clerics was a squad of temple guards escorting a "sinner."

It was a man, stripped of his clothes and looking frail from torment, his skin a sickly yellow with signs of edema on his shins, haggard and with unkempt hair and beard. His hands were shackled in wooden restraints, and one of the temple guards led him like a dog. His mouth bore a hideous scar, splitting his lips in a terrifying display.

"You can't look at this!" Elysia was scared, covering Cyrene's eyes.

"…Who are they transporting?" Noah pondered.

"A witch, presumably," one of the mercenaries protecting Cyrene answered.

"How do you know?" Noah turned to him, noting the man's exaggerated beard.

"We follow Master Calvus, coming from the West Coast," the mercenary explained. "There, clerics lock up captured black witches with hand shackles and split their mouths so they can't cast spells. I suppose Greywood Hall isn't much different."

"Catching witches..." Noah stared at the captured man, "…"

"Imagine if it were you," Gladius whispered harshly.

It was easy for Noah to envision himself in such a predicament, shackled and in agony. The thought sent shivers down his spine. He watched as the temple procession crossed the square, the chants fading into the distance.

"Let's go," Noah felt regret; the hunters' chapel could hardly confront the local temple.

After returning to the hunters' chapel, Noah saw a child sitting on the steps leading to the main entrance.

"This is the hunters' chapel," Noah informed him, "You're in the wrong place."

"Do you remember me?" The child, about fifteen or sixteen, became clear to Noah—it was Lodan? The kid from Duren Village, what was he doing here?

"You're the kid from Duren Village," Noah recalled with effort. "You... you wanted to go with me, but when you heard I was a demon hunter, you ran back... I thought we'd never meet again."

"I made up my mind before coming here," Lodan hurried to say. "I heard about hunting demons... it's so dangerous! I got scared and ran, but after returning to the village, I felt I couldn't give up! I have to fight the monsters!"

"It sounds hollow," Noah considered. "Are you truly resolved?"

"I studied how to use a sword, how to hunt, fully prepared before leaving the village!" 

He showed Noah the equipment he had managed to gather.

"I spent all my money, bought a sword, leather armor, and three loaves of bread. I eat one and a half each day to make it last until Greywood Hall!" he exclaimed eagerly.

"Why not go inside?"

"It's too dark in there. But a man went straight in, he must be braver!"

Noah shook his head.

"This line of work isn't for you," he judged. "You're too young."

"You're not that much older than me!" Lodan protested.

"That's why you should avoid repeating my mistakes," Noah reasoned. "Are you sure you have enough courage now?"

"I promise!" Lodan emphasized. "I guarantee it!"

"I'll give you a task. Once you complete it, come back," Noah thought for a moment.

"I can do anything you ask."

"Yesterday there was a demon attack; the castle was devastated, and some people went mad... they took on a semblance of demons. I had the guards take them away. Go to the guard tower, visit them in my name, see what those poor souls look like, prepare yourself for becoming something similar... then return to the chapel. If you feel even slightly hesitant, go back to Duren Village honestly," Noah instructed.

"Ah? Uh—" Lodan stood up from the steps, "I won't disappoint you this time."

"Go on, then." Noah sent the boy off.

Lodan ran off lightly.

"You're recruiting now?" Elysia peeked out.

"Sometimes I think about not fighting alone," Noah said, entering the main door, which was left slightly ajar.

Inside the great hall, Noah saw a man sitting on the bench, a long sword strapped to his back, contemplating the central statue of Adwar. Curiously, the sunlight, just at the right angle, streamed in through the hole the winged demon had made and fell upon the statue, bathing it in dazzling white light, making it look immensely sacred.

Hearing footsteps, the man turned around.

Clean-shaven, he had grey eyes, a broad forehead, and short brown hair. His features were regular, unlike the disheveled appearance of others.

"My apologies." He stood, greeting Noah. "I am Hugo from Greywood Hall, a swordsman, once active as a mercenary."

"What can you do?" Noah asked.

Hugo's eyes dimmed.

"I'm not an exceptional swordsman or a good mercenary, not like the people behind you."

The two mercenaries sent by Calvus remained silent; even when praised, their gaze didn't change, continuing their task of ensuring Cyrene's safety.

"Answer my question directly," Noah said.

"I can wield a sword, at least decently. If I encounter an enemy in an alley, I can fight," Hugo explained.

"Are you afraid of demons?"

"Demons? No, not the ones that fight fair and square... I'm more worried about those that scare you."

"Why join the chapel?" Noah continued.

"I was ousted from my mercenary band and felt lost. I needed something new to do. Demon hunters are similar to mercenaries, right? We take contracts and then kill demons? Is that the model?"

"Sort of, but not entirely. We're about to take action," Noah nodded. "Come with me."

"I don't know your name yet."

"I'm Noah."

They entered the dining area beneath the side tower, where Duven was cleaning his lockpicking tools beside the table.

"You're back?" Noah noticed him. "How did it go?"

"I touched on it, just a bit, didn't dare to delve too deep, I'll make another trip this evening," Duven contemplated.

Maden came running down from upstairs, sweat-soaked and weary.

"What have you been up to?" Noah surveyed him, covered in dust and fatigue, looking like he'd rolled in a mud pit.

"We...," Maden lamented, "we were cleaning the library."

"Cleaning the library? What's it like in there?" Noah was puzzled. "The thieves didn't get in, did they?"

"They might not have, but the people who used to go to the library didn't seem to have the habit of putting books back in their places," Maden said as he collapsed beside the table, "So when we got in, it was a mess. That woman... I think it's fine if the books are a bit scattered, but she forced me to put all the books back where they belonged, sorting everything properly. I can barely read."

"That's good. You've sorted out the library, haven't you?" Noah looked up, hearing Ines coming down.

"Only half so far, pleaded to continue in the afternoon," Maden wanted to complain more but immediately fell silent at the sight of Ines.

"Our library is quite large," Ines informed Noah with a tone of approval; she seemed well-rested. Her gaze shifted to the people behind Noah. "New recruits?"

"This is Hugo, claims to be a swordsman. He's on a trial period. Once you're rested, you'll take turns sparring with him. I want to know which one of you four is the most skilled with a sword. The winner will train the others," Noah instructed.

"I don't use a sword," Maden grumbled.

"So you'll learn. But you can use a trident," Noah explained.

"We should use wooden weapons, I don't want to hurt anyone," Hugo sighed.

"Who do you think you could hurt?" Ines interrogated sharply. "Do you think you could defeat me?"

"Let's see how the others do first," Noah introduced them. "This is Elysia, my girlfriend. This is Cyrene, the daughter of an important person, convalescing with us due to her ill health. And those two gentlemen are the mercenaries responsible for her protection. I still don't know your names?"

"Cluys," the long-bearded mercenary said, his beard so extensive it needed tying. "Cluys from the West Coast."

"Dylan from the West Coast," the other mercenary, whose face bore crossed scars, used to standing behind Cluys, reluctant to be noticed.

"Are we going to have lunch now?" Elysia was eager. "Who's cooking?"

"Until we recruit a cook, whoever wants to, will cook," Noah said, to his surprise, everyone seemed quite enthusiastic, rising to head to the kitchen.

Hmm... Because it was a new and makeshift group, everyone maintained their motivation with visions of a better future, without many demands. But Noah couldn't let them work for nothing, contemplating a bit. The goal was to pay everyone a little by mid-next month to maintain morale.