Rain poured hard, as the wee hours of the night were approaching. Leaning onto the cold wet stone of the wall, the half asleep guard jolted awake as heard the sound of footsteps, noticing movement coming in his direction, appearing out of thin air.

  “Stop! State your names and business!” - In a loud and firm tone, the guard shouted at the three hooded figures walking slowly towards the city gates. Being one of the only two people on duty that night, the man could barely wait for the shift change, his mind already dreaming of a big mug of Ale at the nearby tavern.

  Without even changing their pace, the three strangers kept their slow advance as the pouring rain showed no signs of stopping any time soon, covering the road ahead of them in mud.

  “I said,” - the guard repeated louder, now almost shouting as he drew his old blade from its scabbard - “state your names and business!”

  Stopping as the guard raised his weapon, the one in the middle of the group raised his hands, a string of silver prayer beads intertwined in between his fingers.

  “My name is Noa,” - the man spoke, his voice loud but calm and steady, despite sounding quite young - “we received word that the local Lord was seeking aid from a Priest!”

  “Praise the Six… Yes, yes…” - the man put his sword back, relieved that there would be no need to use it today, and motioned with his hand for the new arrivals to come closer - “Are these two your aides?.”

  “They’re my helpers, yes!” - Noa and the others walked quicker towards the protection of the city gate, trying not to trip on the slippery path - “Can you send a messenger to let the Lord know we have arrived?”

  “I’ll inform him myself!” - the guard said enthusiastically, seeing as his replacement was arriving at the gates. Maybe by bringing the Lord the good news he had been so eagerly waiting for, he would be given a reward worth at least a couple extra drinks for the night - “There’s a tavern right ahead on this road, it’s the only light still on, you can’t miss it…”

  Closing the wooden gate behind him as the last of the three arrived, the guard quickly motioned towards a bright spot a few meters ahead on what seemed like the main road coming from the gate. Noa nodded, adjusting his hood for a moment, revealing a pale face as youthful as his voice had suggested earlier.

  “Wait there, get a drink to stave off the cold,” - Throwing what seemed like a dirty patched coat on top of his leather armor, the man began to run down the road - “I’ll come pick you all as soon as the Lord’s ready to receive you!”

  ***

  The sounds of loud chatter and music could probably be heard all the way from the gates if not for the rain. As soon as Noa reached the door he was received by the familiar smell of pipe smoke, ale and roasted meat, his body instantly feeling warmer.

  “Aye, never too late to join the party is it?” - A loud booming voice called out from inside as soon as the trio stepped in, followed by the sounds of heavy steps coming towards them - “What can I get you my friends? Dinner, or something warm to drink first?”

  Looking down in search for the origin of the voice, Noa found himself staring at a man no taller than an older child, yet covered in toned muscles and sporting a black beard reaching all the way to his waist. Holding a mug almost as big as his head, he took a big gulp before putting it on top of a nearby empty table.

  “Yeah, I know Numelyn isn’t so great,” - the D’wadir motioned with a jokingly smile to the energetic bard playing near the fire, to a crowd of enthusiastic patrons - “but there’s no need to stop and stare…”

  “Well, that was rude of me…” - Noa removed his hood followed by his two aides, a serious older looking man and a quiet young woman - “let’s just hope the Ale is better than the music!”

  Erupting into thunderous laughter, the man offered his rugged hand to Noa, who gladly took it.

  “The best damn ale around these parts! Name’s Ethril, I’ll be right back”

  Sitting on the empty table where Ethril’s mug rested, the three stopped to check their surroundings. Despite the late hour the place seemed almost packed, mostly local farmers and hunters judging by their attire. On the far corner, half a dozen armed men sat quietly drinking and eating, their faces and gear giving the clear signs of a group of mercenaries.

  “Master…” - the older man spoke while groaning his teeth, his voice hoarse and deep, sniffing the air just like a hunting dog.

  “Stay still, I sensed it too…” - Noa played with the beads on his right hand, well aware of the stench coming from the men in the back, his eyes locked on his companion in order to keep him in check - “Our priorities are elsewhere…”

  Bursting open suddenly, letting in a gust of cold air, the tavern’s door almost hit a woman on the face as the guard from earlier entered hastily. His white freckled face was red, and his drenched body quickly formed a small puddle of rain around his feet.

  “Where are they?” - the guard questioned no one in particular, as he anxiously searched around the room

  “Easy lad, you look like death…” - Ethril spoke as he carried three large mugs of warm ale towards Noa’s table.

  “There you are,” - the man started saying, grabbing one of the mugs before it even touched the table, chugging the entire thing in barely a moment - “I’ve been told to take you directly to the Lord, as quickly as possible!”

  With no hesitation, Noa grabbed the nearest mug of ale, the smell of alcohol and spices filling the air. Taking as large a gulp as possible, he could feel a wave of warmth spreading throughout his body, before setting it back at the table and getting up.

  “Guess we’ll have dinner later,” - he said while setting a silver six sided coin on the table nearby Ethril - “do you mind saving us a private room? We’ll be back soon”

  “Sure…” - the D’wadir nodded, grabbing the money as he watched the three pulling their hoodies and following the guard back into the cold rainy night.

  ***

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  Walking through the city main street towards what seemed to be the largest house in sight, barely any movement could be seen other than the occasional wild cats and dogs running amok. Despite the cheerful banter inside the tavern, the entire village emanated an eerie energy, the broken and weathered wooden houses filling both sides of the unpaved main road.

  “You surely came back fast,” - Noa broke the awkward silence as he ran after the guard, their destination only a few meters ahead - “I expected the Lord would only receive us in the morning.”

  “Ohh…” - the guard hesitated before answering, as the entire group reached the small stone fence surrounding a very well kept two story mansion - “the Lord is often busy at night, he has many… duties to attend to…”

  Seemingly eager to complete his duty, the man walked up the stone stair towards the entrance. Approaching the fancy looking door, the guard knocked three times in quick succession, before an old bald man holding an oil lamp opened the door slightly, staring at all four of them.

  “I brought the priest, as requested!”

  The old man raised the lamp, as if evaluating the faces of the three guests, before reaching for a small satchel in his pocket and handing it to the guard, motioning silently for the group to get inside.

  “Thank you sir,” - the guard bowed quickly as he stepped back - “see you guys back at the tavern!”

  Noa waved at the running guard while his aides went inside, unsure of the man's true intentions. While some people’s nature were as clear as an open book, others were still too fickle to grasp with his limited experience.

  “This way…” - the old servant said calmly, his voice firm but tired, making clear his words were not a suggestion.

  In comparison with the decaying state of the village, the Lord’s house seemed as pristine as possible. In the lamp light, Noa could grasp the massive size of the entry hall, its walls covered in paintings and what was probably expensive furniture. Instead of taking the stairs towards the second floor, where the Lord’s office probably was, the old man guided them towards a large corridor on the left, a wide double door on its end.

  Without warning, it hit them. The stench was foul. Piss, sweat and rotten meat, mixed with the scent of perfume and burnt candles. As the three walked silently through the corridor, the odor seemed to only grow stronger while a strange muffled sound became closer.

  “His excellency,” - proclaimed the old man as he reached the double doors, holding it’s handles, opening the doors ceremoniously - “the Great Lord Gulliver”

  “Great indeed.” - Noa couldn’t help but think, as the doors opened to reveal perhaps the largest living human he had ever laid eyes upon, sitting at the head of a full feast on a long dinner table.

  Wearing what should be a robe on top of his nightwear, the man’s greasy skin had a greenish pale tint to it, dark circles around his eyes. Behind him on either side, two fully armored mercenaries with the same kind of gear as the ones in the tavern. The room was fully surrounded by candles, displaying even more of the excessive decor, an intense contrast to the state of the houses in the city.

  “Priest Noa, I hope you’ll excuse my manners.” - Gulliver spoke, his voice like the croaking of a very fat frog. Motioning to the chair beside him, as if inviting the guest to join him, before one of the men on his right pulled the chair, making it clear that wasn’t a suggestion. - “Please join me for a snack, we have much to discuss!”

  “It would be a pleasure my lord!” - Showing no signs of hesitation, Noa calmly removed his drenched coat, revealing his simple but elegant black garments and dark hair, before taking the seat that was offered - “Judging by your urgency, I dare guess the matter is rather serious…”

  “Serious, yes… Serious indeed…” - from up close, the stench coming from the man was enough to send shivers through the Priest’s spine. Yet the man came even closer, his face only inches away from Noa’s - “You see, lately we have been having some bandit problems…”

  “I see…”

  “That in itself is easy to resolve, as you can see!” - Gulliver motioned to his two armed guards, who let out a small chuckle - “But lately, on one of their routine inspections, the boys came upon some evil worshipers!”

  “Evil worshipers?” - Noa repeated instantly, his expression perplexed and puzzled - “What do you mean?”

  “An elderly couple and a child, carrying dangerous materials, while trying to pass off as simple travelers.” - Grabbing his wine glass, he took a sip leisurely - “At first my men tried rescuing the child after dealing with the couple…”

  “Dealing…” - Looking at the mercenaries, Noa could very well grasp how these men ‘dealt’ with people.

  “But the child, poor thing, seemed to already have been corrupted,” - putting his wine glass back down, the man grabbed his sleeve and started pulling it up - “and when I extended my hand, to graciously offer my help, I received this!”

  On the man’s forearm, starting right below the elbow and moving up towards the shoulder, a large gaping wound was spreading. Darkened around the edges, the skin rotting and festering, while the tissue inside ranged from green, to yellow, to purple, a sickly white liquid oozing from the bottom. As soon as Gulliver revealed his arm, the putrid smell of death and decay became almost too much to bear.

  “How long has it been since it started?” - Noa covered his mouth before speaking, trying to block the smell - “What has been done to the child?”

  “It’ll be the sixth day, come first light,” - Covering back his arm, Gulliver picked up his glass again, emptying it in a single gulp - “I sent for a priest immediately, and ordered the child to be kept on chains. I hoped maybe with the right incentive she would remove the curse herself…”

  “Oh, I seriously doubt that…” - Noa got up from his chair, gesturing for his aides to approach

  “Do you know what it is, Father?” - Gulliver pleaded, his massive body leaning closer on the table - “Can you heal me?”

  “It’s called The Touch of Syrus,” - Noa received from his companions two strings of prayer beads similar to his own, one from each, before turning back to face Gulliver - “when in contact with the living, it’ll spread and spread, eroding the very soul of its target, until nothing but a pile of rotten flesh remains.”

  “You’ll fix me, right?” - the man began mumbling, the desperation in his voice increasing as he let go of the noble facade from before - “I have money, slaves… man, woman, children… I’m sure the Helios church would be very pleased with my donation…”

  “It seems the spell was not fully cast, that’s the only reason you’re still alive!” - calmly taking back his seat, Noa stretched out his empty left hand - “Give me your arm!”

  Without hesitation, Gulliver placed his arm on top of Noa’s hand, his palm facing upwards. While holding the three strings of beads around his palm, the priest began circling his own right thumb across the man’s empty palm, while the mercenaries behind him watched attentively. As every new rotation was completed, a small shimmer began to form, as the Lord’s panicked expression began to soften.

  “The pain… It’s getting better…”

  “And… Done” - Noa released the man’s arm, shaking his right hand as if it had gone numb - “This should fix the problem!”

  “Finally, how can I…”

  Before Gulliver could finish, a shocked gasp could be heard from his left. He turned in surprise, his eyes widened seeing one of his bodyguards with a blade coming out of his chest, the female companion of the priest right behind him. As the man gave out his last breath, the woman pulled back the blade, letting his body fall to the ground. Standing expressionless, she held her arm ready for a punch, instead her palm was open, a blade the size of a short sword coming out from her skin.

  “What…” - Gulliver started protesting, but while beginning to rise from his chair he felt a sharp pain in his chest, his mouth filling up with blood as he coughed.

  “You see, finishing a spell cast halfway is a lot harder than the original spell itself.” - Noa started walking away towards the double doors, his expression a mixture of disgust and enjoyment - “It takes quite a lot of skill If I can say so myself!”