When Heroes Die

“They’ll never see me coming.”

— Dread Empress Sinistra IV, the Erroneous

Taylor had once told Roland that the swiftest path to passing the threshold of a building you do not belong inside without inviting retaliation was by presenting the appearance that you were no different from the residents.

He followed the winding path towards the Starlit Cloister. The white robes of the clergy would be comfortable — albeit plain — were it not for the coat he had stowed away beneath them. They presented an austere outer front to the world that did not match the mask Roland wished to wear.

He passed the imposing fortifications leading up to the walls, the gardens lit by moonlight, and scaled the staircase to the doors.

Roland’s initial foray into the Starlit Cloister was for the purposes of reconnaissance. While he would attempt to find the records Taylor desired, it was unlikely that his attempt would yield results. It was almost impossible to discover more about the complex’s interior without being invited into it. The building was closed to all but the faithful and a select few others. The priests he had conversed with had clammed up when Roland asked about what lay within.

Not once did any of the guards question his presence as he ascended the stairs.

The doors at the top remained barred to him.

“Sister Dominique sent me to deliver a message to Sister Adelie,” he lied, proffering false documents towards the silent guardsmen.

The indolent guard that took the documents did not even pretend to examine them before he gestured towards his companion. The two of them began to open the door.

Roland moved to enter the Starlit Cloister when the shorter guard with raven-black hair blocked his path with an arm. The man gestured that Roland should follow behind him.

It appears that they have some measure of security after all.

Roland fell into step with the man, all the while he plotted how to lose his attendant. The guard took a passage to the right, passed an enclosed quadrangle and into a series of administration buildings. They turned once more and entered an otherwise deserted corridor beside an indoor garden.

Roland “tripped,” falling to the floor before the guard. The man reached down to help Roland to his feet. Roland ignored the offer for assistance for a moment and used the excuse of injury to brush his fingers against the bangle set with garnets on one of his legs through the robe.

The rune triggered.

Roland reached for the proffered hand and accepted it. A calming energy seeped from his palm into the palm of the guard. The man fell to the ground as a lassitude stole over him.

The sands of the hourglass had begun to fall.

Roland dragged the man behind a bush and lost the false documents that he no longer had any purpose for. This would serve to hide his deeds until the man finally woke up.

He stepped away and began to prowl the Starlit Cloister.

None questioned the presence of just another priest wandering the halls, provided he walked as if he had a destination in mind.

He withdrew trinkets as necessary from his coat in his effort to uncover the documents Taylor required. Locks were shattered, buildings were searched, and the Starlit Cloister was gradually mapped out. The further Roland explored, the less confident he was that he could find what she sought.

The building was a maze of stone that had grown over centuries. It would take weeks to find the correct room in the current circumstances. The window of time he had to investigate the Starlit Cloister was much too brief without information that he did not possess.

Less than an hour later and a bell tolled. Roland did not know what the bell indicated, but from the alert expressions of a priest he passed he could guess that his deception had been found.

His first foray within the Starlit Cloister was coming to an end.

Roland followed a small gathering of priests up a flight of stairs onto the second floor until he found a passage that branched off into an empty chamber. He stepped off the beaten path into the room, slipped out of the robes and into his normal regalia.

He left the domed chamber not long after slipping on his final ring. There would be no doubt in the mind of a priest that he was the invader if any saw him now, but trickery could not take him much further.

It was time for subterfuge of a different sort.

One of the priests noticed him and called out. He broke into a sprint. A silent guard loosed an arrow. It struck against a pillar just shy of his head. Roland suppressed the urge to yelp. His irises shaded green as he focused on one of his rings. A wall of vines began to expand behind him, sealing his assailant away.

Roland passed through several corridors as he made his bid to escape.

He ducked the throw of a knife, responded by collapsing the roof, and at last found what he was searching for. An open terrace looking down upon a garden below. He passed through the gilded doorway, reached into his coat and brushed his thumb against the containment rune. A rod materialized in his waiting palm.

Roland aimed, focused, and released.

A wave of flames cascaded into the garden below.

The flames took.

The frenetic echo of his boots began once more as he initiated the final stage of his escape. It was not long until loud cries echoed throughout the passages, warning others of the growing inferno.

Roland found another terrace — this one facing outwards towards the walls — and materialized a rope. He tied it to one of the gargoyles leaning over the walls, then lowered himself onto the ground below.

Roland sprinted towards one of the large, bulky staircases leading up onto the outer walls. While he would have preferred to leave through the tower gates, he was wagering they had already been closed. It was best for him to escape using less guarded means.

He had almost finished ascending the stairs when one of the silent guards moved to block his escape. Grimacing, he summoned an ash wand to his hand and fired a beam of force at the man’s leg. There was a crunch as the man screamed and collapsed to the floor.

Taylor would not be pleased with him were he to kill any of the cloister’s residents. Even injuring the man like this was likely to earn her ire. It was an unfortunate necessity, but Roland was certain the priests would be capable of healing.

He reached the edge of the wall, manifested another rope and started to descend.

Another guard reached the rope and started to untie it from the crenelations. The woman was too late. Roland was already at the base of the walls by the time the guard had arrived and was already making his escape.

“Esme has the necessary talents to obtain the evidence Taylor requires,” Songbird stated once more.

Taylor had been convinced by Songbird’s arguments in the girl’s favour. She believed that Esme was certain to knife them in the back if they refused to extend the girl any trust. The argument held weight on the balance, but Roland remained wary.

“I’m not certain that this course of action is wise,” Roland warned.

“I’m aware that there are perils to this scheme,” she replied.

The two of them were nestled in the corner of the parlour. They stood beside the shutters. The dark of pre-dawn Salia could barely be perceived through the gaps. They talked in hushed tones. The others had yet to wake up.

“Allowing Esme to participate in this mission is far more than a mere risk.” Roland rested a firm hand against the loose white shift covering Songbird’s left shoulder and looked up into her eyes.

Such behaviour would be considered improper on his part in most circumstances, but it was imperative that she consider the perils involved in the scheme she proposed.

“She won’t sabotage our plans.” Songbird’s lips settled into a crescent moon as she finished speaking.

Roland assumed that the hint of a smile was meant to be reassuring. After observing her mien shift at the drop of a coin on many occasions, it did nothing to allay his fears.

“You have said as much before. I remain unconvinced.” He stepped back — his feet sinking into the gorgeous madder red carpet — and resisted the urge to scratch at an itch behind his ear.

“She has too much riding on this to risk it.”

The muffled creaking of a door could be heard from behind him.

“What if she finds safety among others? We are her refuge of circumstance, not her home of choice.”

“I doubt that she will haunt our presence for long. It would surprise me if she fails to find a new benefactor before we achieve our goal.”

“And yet you would bare our necks to her?”

“Esme can be expected to act as her nature dictates. She considers both the House of Light and the Nobility to be her sworn enemies. Her assistance will also be invaluable in narrowing down the location of the accounts Taylor requires.”

“I can find records of their guilt if I am given sufficient time.”

“How long would it take you to map out the Starlit Cloister while hiding from the priests?”

Roland did not answer.

While he had succeeded in bypassing the walls on one further occasion, it was true that Roland had failed to make any headway in his attempts to unearth the accounts in the Starlit Cloister. The defences would become tighter with each additional attempt that he had made. He might have already succeeded were the place any smaller.

Instead, the home of the Holies was akin to a fortress. He would require far too many attempts for it to be feasible to properly canvas the complex without a guide. Songbird had been surprisingly nonplussed by that revelation. She had acceded to his request without complaint and asked Taylor to petition for a tour of the Starlit Cloister, even if the need to do so had entangled the story that Songbird had woven.

“I dislike the shape of it.” Roland gave in and attended to the itch on the back of his neck.

“Consider her to be an ally of circumstance in our current endeavours. For her to betray us is to betray herself.”

“And what of all the secrets that she comes to possess?”

“Taylor desires for only the least of what she has shared with us to be kept in confidence.”

“Taylor also expects us to question her judgement.”

“The changes she has wrought have far-reaching consequences. While it is often wise to hold a secret close, in times so troubled it is wiser for her to divulge what she knows than to keep it to her chest.”

“A secret cannot be reclaimed once shared.”

“She had clashed-” Songbird’s voice cut off, her caramel eyes darting towards the parlour door.

Roland followed here gaze past the pine green chaise lounge beside them and the leather couches beyond it. His eyes fell on the amaranth door as it creaked open.

The brilliant white aura that suffused the room with a pleasant warmth was the first sign of who was entering the room. Taylor’s steps were firm. Where once she had been aimless, every action Taylor undertook now was filled to the brim with purpose. It was one of the many changes she had undertaken that Roland found so alluring.

She was dressed in a tight woollen shirt and trousers that highlighted her figure. She was tall, strong, her russet eyes were alight with a mesmerizing zeal, and her hair gleamed like the sun.

Roland drank in the sight of her.

He had known once he had begun to court her that even should he succeed, her love for him would never surpass her love for the Gods. She had offered up her soul to them, and they had accepted her into their service. Being second love to the divine was acceptable in Roland’s eyes.

But no, Roland had made one misstep too many.

He turned his eyes away.

It left him drowning in bitterness.

His only consolation was that Michel had no interest in the fairer sex. Taylor had been admiring the duellist in much the same way as Roland had been admiring her. No, it was better for his thoughts to venture into other lands.

“You’re awake early,” she paused, smiled and evaluated the room. “Plotting?”

“Not even a morning greeting? Y’know, someone could get offended.” Songbird deflected with her usual grace.

“Good morning, Song, Roland.” Her voice stiffened when she greeted him.

They had yet to talk about the lapse he had made in his care of Yvette. He had made more than one attempt to broach the subject, but she continued to brush him off.

“That’s more like it. Y’know, I think you should get changed before your tour.”

“I heard voices. What’s happening?” Taylor turned his way.

Songbird affected an amused grin.

“I was questioning the wisdom of allowing Esme to assist with our heist.”

“This again?” she sounded exasperated.

“Even if Esme was not a villain, she has done nothing to earn any degree of trust.”

If the others would not speak against this decision, then Roland would take the burden of ensuring Esme did not damage their group upon himself. He understood that some flexibility was required when dealing with other Names, but there was a difference between flexibility and the abandoning of caution.

“Look. I don’t trust her and I don’t like her, but I promised I would try to help her. She needs to feel included. We need to erode her barriers. Digging up dirt on the priests is one of the few things she can be trusted to do. We might as well let go of her if we aren’t prepared to trust her with this.”

“If this is out of a sense of obligation towards the friend you once knew-” Roland cut off as Taylor began to speak over him.

“It’s not. She doesn’t remind me of Lisa at all. I’m helping her because it’s the right thing to do. There’s nothing more to it.”

The argument gained momentum, but there was neither heat nor venom in the words that any of them voiced.

It amused Roland how firm Taylor had been in refusing to fill the Role of an Angel. She did not appear to understand what it meant that she herself was a minute sliver of divinity granted the gift of awareness. Roland could follow the furrow of Taylor’s thoughts and predict what lay beyond. She would follow the road of redemption until she had reforged herself into a virtue. The motivation the Gods had given her made that outcome assured.

Taylor would deny it — she would decry it as either blasphemous or impossible — but Roland believed that one day — in an age shrouded by the mists of time — there would be one more Angel in the heavens above. The first Angel of a new Angelic Choir.

For was redemption not a virtue on its own?

Esme’s bare feet were numb from the cold.

“Remember, “Taylor looked at Roland critically, “No magic. I don’t think it can break my invisibility, but best not risk it.”

Connect — Roland: Believes Taylor, is not intending to go against orders. Does not like or trust Esme, intends to watch Esme. Believes Esme will betray all of them.

Connect — Taylor: Has concerns, but believes that earning Esme’s trust is more important. Trusts that Esme won’t betray her. Believes that helping Taylor is in Esme’s best interest.

Esme swallowed her desire to sneer. Taylor proved herself once more to be incapable of true heroics. She did not lance her problems at first sight, instead allowing them to fester. Esme would have rained justice down upon the clergy if she wielded even half the power Taylor had at her fingertips.

“I have taken your warnings to heart,” Roland replied.

“I’m serious. You’ve worked the Starlit Cloister up into a frenzy. Sister Adelie almost denied my request.”

It puzzled Esme what the man saw in a hero so ineffective as Taylor was.

“I am not so foolish as to sabotage my own hull,” Esme retorted scathingly.

Esme would take no actions to betray either of them. Taylor was right to believe that they were united in purpose — so long as they worked towards undermining the House of Light, anyway. Esme had no intent to make her stay with them permanent, or of following any more of Taylor’s bleating beyond what was required to not see herself evicted. Esme would find shelter with them only so long as it took her to find a ship to call her own.

“No thefts either, and remember to muffle your steps. This is a fact finding mission. We’re not stealing anything.”

Taylor continued to lay down rules. She was one of many examples of why Good had yet to triumph over Evil. So much power and no willingness to put it to use. Taylor muttered a prayer and both Esme and Roland were shrouded in Light, before vanishing from sight entirely. Taylor concentrated once more. It was only a heartbeat later that Esme’s sight was overlaid with a second sense of vision. One that was shrouded in reds and blues.

Both Roland and herself were lit up under this odd light as stark silhouettes of scarlet.

All three of them embarked on their quest, following the road that led towards the Starlit Cloister. Taylor had agreed to a tour of the cloister — citing an interest of joining the other sisters there in seclusion — and one of the Holies had been eager to accede to her request.

Half the sand had run out of the hourglass when they at last drew close to their destination.

A dull rage simmered in Esme’s belly, much like the promise of an oncoming storm on the horizon at sea.

They followed the winding slate road that rose sinuously towards basalt barriers that towered like the masts of a galleon up ahead. They passed three rings of ditches and a now frozen moat on the path towards the walls. Detailed ornamentation marked the exterior of the walls. The crenelations loomed high in the sky above, and warrior monks watched like eagles from the safety of the battlements.

Similar men and women garbed for battle patrolled the path leading towards the gatehouse.

Esme shivered under the scalding net of Light the Aspirant had cast around her. She was almost unable to trust her own eyes. She could not believe how easily they had sailed past the defences. Esme would never have agreed to see this folly through without assurances as to Taylor’s pure intentions.

The faithful took one look at the Aspirant and allowed her entry without question.

Esme’s lips curled up in distaste and reminded herself once more that this task was a necessary step if she wished to enact her own brand of vengeance. While Taylor would only take her ship so far, there was nothing preventing Esme from sailing the remaining distance on her own.

Immaculate hedges tended with ceaseless dedication lined the road on the other side of the walls. Stairs rose towards the clouded heavens. Despite the turn of the season, not a speck of snow tainted the verdant gardens of green.

Esme swallowed her fury as all three of them approached the sprawling basalt complex ahead. Why were these monsters in white allowed such niceties when she spent days being chased down like a beast?

A dull throb had set into her legs by the time they had reached the thick double door. She thought she had grown inured to time spent on her legs during her flight on the streets, but it appeared that her beliefs were unfounded. Emse wished that she could voice her protests. It was a pity that she needed to hold her tongue.

Taylor was made to wait in the atrium. It was a large open room with sweeping stone arches, supporting pillars and walls gilded in gold. The tiled mosaic on the floor depicted a scene of battle at the base of the Tower that Esme presumed was from the first crusade. Not even the roof of the atrium remained unadorned.

“It warms my heart that you accepted my invitation, sister Taylor,” a fair skinned green-eyed woman clad in white and gold greeted Taylor, her voice laced with warmth.

Behaviour — Sister Adelie: Relaxed, but eyes focused. Attempting to present the idea that she is pleased to see Taylor.

Tone of voice — Sister Adelie: Affected, not real. Wary.

Word choice — Sister Adelie: “accepted my invitation” compared with “to see you.” Suggests ulterior motives to desiring Taylor’s presence.

“I always planned to, sister Adelie,” Taylor replied.

Behaviour — Taylor: Slight lowering in tone of voice indicative of anger.

Word choice — Taylor: “planned,” not, “intended.” No affirming supporting words. Taylor does not desire to accommodate the desires of the Holies at all. Sees meeting with them as nothing more than a means to an end.

Esme relinquished her glimpse on Taylor’s inner thoughts. It was nothing that she had not already grasped in the recent past.

“Shall we begin our tour?” she gestured towards a passage on the left of the entrance.

“Lets,” Taylor nodded her agreement.

All four of them began their investigation of the Starlit Cloister. They travelled past the secluded quadrangles and their pristine gardens along a tiled floor that told a story from one end to the other. Their journey through the religious bastion was slow enough to be considered glacial. Sister Adelie insisted they have frequent stops as she expounded upon one religious artefact or another. From reliefs depicting scenes contained within scriptures, to relics once owned by one hero or another.

The course sister Adelie charted took them up stairwells to viewing platforms above, past more than one room for prayer and contemplation, down the stairs once more. They inspected vast dining halls, dormitories, and even animals out to pasture.

The Starlit Cloister was a small island sequestered away within the larger sea of Salia where all who lived in residence were devoted to serving the Gods.

Taylor’s delight was plain for all to see. She smiled openly and hung onto every word the woman said.

Esme could read the fury that simmered deep behind Taylor’s eyes despite her cheerful façade.

It was the only trait Esme shared with the otherwise ineffective hero. Esme was a hero despite Taylor’s words. She had set out to right the many injustices she perceived within the Principate. The Saint of Swords took justice into her own hands. Esme saw no reason why she could not wield a blade of her own.

“What happened there?” Taylor asked, pointing towards a blackened courtyard.

“A ruffian set light to the courtyard during their failed attempt to spirit away artefacts from the Starlit Cloister.” Sister Adelie answered.

Behaviour — Sister Adelie: the minute pause in her answer indicates that she knows what she says is false.

Speculation: Sister Adelie is probing Taylor to learn if Taylor is involved. She doesn’t know what the goal of the break-ins was, but is attempting to learn more. She suspects more attempts will be made. Sensitive information is being moved.

Esme was not certain whether the knowledge she had fished made it more advantageous for them to strike during this scouting trip if the opportunity presented itself, or if they should wait until they were better prepared. The longer they waited, the more time the Holies had to determine their ultimate goal.

“I see.”

“I apologize for the state of this section of the tour. The garden would be a delight to behold at any other time.”

“Fine.”

A bell must have passed before they made any headway on their quest. Esme had done her best to examine every detail of the Starlit Cloister, drafting a mental chart of what they needed to know. They had circled the compound and were following a circuitous route leading towards the entrance once more. Not much remained within the building for them to map.

It took a will of iron to remain focused on their shared burden while enduring the tedium of the tour.

“What’s this?” Taylor whispered as they exited the main building and entered another lined with scribes hunched over desks.

“This scriptorium attends to the needs of many of the churches and cathedrals within the confines of Salia. The records are all stored below ground in the Starlit Archives. I can give you a tour of the Archive if you wish, although there is not much of note to observe. One or two historical pieces of note, but little else besides dusty books.”

Speculation: Exposition of archive contents is deliberate. Is trying to determine if Taylor has any interest in them.

“I’d like to.”

Esme shook her head vigorously, cautioning Taylor not to agree. Taylor paid no heed to her warning.

“Of course, Chosen.”

They followed sister Adelie towards a narrow stairwell descending below the scriptorium. It took effort to muffle the sound of her step as she began to descend the stairs. It was not long before they entered into a room lined with shelves as far as the eye could see.

Esme tripped over a loose tile and stumbled into one of the stacks. She scrambled forward and pulled herself to safer waters as the shelf teetered, then toppled over. The books arrayed on the shelf spilled out onto the floor. Esme swallowed one of the many uncouth oaths she had heard Songbird utter. It would not do to give her position away.

“Be you a crook or a sister — if there is someone else following behind us without permission, then it is best that you step out of the shadows now.” Sister Adelie called out. “I know that many of you wish for the opportunity to meet the Chosen, but that does not excuse breaking the rules.”

Esme navigated her way on hands and knees away from where she fell. She was fortunate that none of the books had landed where she lay. Whoever was responsible for maintaining the archive floors should be flogged for failing at their appointed task.

“I don’t see anyone,” Taylor stated.

Esme held her breath as sister Adelie approached with her green eyes narrowed in thought. Her heart beat louder than the cries of seagulls. Sister Adelie knelt down and reached forward, her right hand grasping toward where Esme lay.

Then Roland pushed over another shelf behind Sister Adelie. The ruckus distracted the woman, diverting her attention away from the space where Esme lay. Sister Adelie paused, then tilted her head towards the shelves.

“Perhaps rot has found its way into the wood,” she mused. “I will need to register this discrepancy with the sister in charge of the archives. I hope you do not mind the detour.”

Behaviour — Sister Adelie: Distraction is affected. Hand trembling.

Word choice — Sister Adelie: “rot has found its way into the wood,” she suspects Taylor is scheming against her.

Speculation: Sister Adelie is aware of Esme’s presence. Pretending not to notice for fear of death. Sister Adelie intends to act on the knowledge once Taylor has departed.

Would it be more advantageous for Esme to share what she had discovered with the others now, or remain silent about what she had learned? Esme did not wish the priests to escape justice. Warning them of Taylor’s goals might allow them to swim free, but it also might do the reverse.

The time Esme had spent with Taylor had allowed her to dig deep into the buried secrets the other Chosen held. Taylor was reluctant to retreat from a fight once she had claimed it as her own. Esme believed that if Taylor’s attempt at a peaceful resolution failed, she would choose to escalate rather than back down.

There were risks involved in attempting such a scheme. Esme was still uncertain of Songbird’s motives, which made it challenging to predict how the woman would react. The woman was responsible for the group’s planning. Acting without understanding her thoughts invited a kind of peril that Esme did not approve of.

It did not change that there was much to be gained as well. It was another current leading to the destination she had charted. Esme would not risk the decision until she had found a new port to call home.

But for now she would say nothing and see which way the wind blew.

Gods, I thank you that Esme did not give us away.

“This shelf harbours the genealogies of those among the faithful that reside at the cloister for the past hundred years,” Esme whispered his way in disgust.

She closed the unrolled parchment she held and placed it with care back onto the shelf.

The two of them had broken off from Taylor while they were within the archive. They would not have risked as much were it not for the fact that few moved between the shelves. The scope of the archive meant that their plans might require revision. There was a mountain of records to sift through. Roland admitted that delving through the Starlit Archive for the evidence they required would be the work of months without Esme’s assistance.

Esme was able to unravel the enigmatic shelving system used by the priests and narrow down the scope of their search with only a glance. She skulked over to the next shelf and pulled out another tome. Roland did his best to maintain vigilance.

“Marriage agreements,” she muttered under her breath. She strolled to the other end of the same shelf and withdrew a thick tome — took a brief look inside — and then honed in on the details.

Once more, they relocated to another shelf.

Once more, Esme voiced her disappointment.

Taylor and Sister Adelie delved deeper into the stacks in the distance. There were scrolls dating back to the founding of Procer that Sister Adelie wished to show Taylor. The two of them did not have much time to narrow their search.

A few heartbeats later and Esme stiffened.

“None of these shelves contain the records we require,” she stated with confidence.

She pointed at each of them from one end of the Archive to the other and gave a brief explanation of what each would contain. Nothing she indicated was more recent than the past decade.

“Excellent work,” Roland praised. Esme flushed a deeper shade of purple. “Do you have any hints as to where we can find the records we need?”

“I suspect that they are held somewhere above ground in an office, or in one of the more secure vaults.”

“We will need to follow through with the remainder of the tour to learn more of the lay of the place.”

They picked up their pace and rejoined both Taylor and Sister Adelie at the other end of the shelves. Roland listened with one ear to her narration of the history of the cloister as she pointed out one historical text or another. The bulk of his attention was focused on ensuring that Esme did not break from the shelter of their invisibility a second time.

It was not long until Sister Adelie escorted them above ground once more.

They moved from chamber to chamber. Roland was pleasantly surprised that Esme did not raise a complaint when Taylor accepted an invitation for a late afternoon meal with the rest of the clergy.

Sands fell as they waited for the feast to end.

Roland stiffened when he felt the hidden hand of Esme rest upon his shoulders. He turned towards her and saw her gesture towards one of the corners of the room. Hackles rising, he followed behind her.

“I’ve been following the currents of their conversation and have determined where the records we seek can be found,” Esme whispered. “We should use this feast as an opportunity to claim what we seek and then make good on our escape.”

Roland considered the proposal for a few heartbeats.

“Should anything of importance be spirited away during Taylor’s tour, it will implicate her in the act.” He denied. “I suggest that you point me to the location of the documents, and I seize them at a later date.”

The two of them bickered back and forth in hushed tones while the meal progressed. It took effort before Esme at last acceded to his conditions. The tour did not last for much longer before Taylor grew tired and begged to leave for the day. It was time for the three of them to compile what they knew.

It was time for Roland to spirit away the Starlit Cloister’s accounts.