5 November 2023

Their little campfire burned low, barely enough to cook on. Considering how deep they were into demon territory, it would probably have been better to do without completely, but none of them really pushed the issue.

Caldwell was telling them about some yearly festival they had back in his hometown, but Kyra was only half listening. Instead, she watched Gavin and Fera carefully. There was an odd tension between the two. Gavin’s jaw had been clenched all evening, and he didn’t sit next to Fera like he’d been doing. For her part, Fera shrank into herself, and she couldn’t stop fiddling with the engagement ring Gavin had given her. It was the exact opposite of how Kyra expected them to react after Gavin finally popped the question.

She knew Caldwell had been trying to ease the tension in his own way but it didn’t seem to make a significant difference. So as soon as there was a lull, she interrupted his story. “So what the hell is going on with the two of you? You’re acting like someone died, not like you just got engaged.”

“Actually, I… I turned him down.”

Kyra blinked slowly. She looked down at the ring Fera was fiddling with, then back up to her face. “What.”

Fera’s shoulders curled in even tighter. With no small trace of bitterness in his voice, Gavin said, “Tell them. They’re your friends. They have a right to know.”

At his words, Fera’s hands clenched tight. Kyra’s own stomach twisted,, but she never took her eyes off of Fera. For several long moments, no one spoke.

When Fera finally did speak, her voice cracked. “I… Even if everything goes well, I… I won’t be coming back. Even if the demon king dies, he’ll just come back. We have to seal him up, and to do that, I… I have to seal myself in with him.”

By the time she finished speaking, tears dripped down her cheeks. Despite that, still, she smiled, small and soft.

Kyra couldn’t tell if her thoughts had frozen in place, or if she was thinking so many things at once it all bled into nothingness. Once she’d started to calm down, her thoughts flickered to a desolate homestead, long ago. To the bloodied face her her dear husband, Roylan. To the immobile bodies of her two sons.

It was happening again. She’d finally healed enough to reach out to other people, to care about other people again, and she was going to lose them. And once more, there was nothing she could do about it.

She barely noticed the roar of anguish that tore through her throat, or the crack as she hurled one of her prized axes into the nearest tree. By the time her mind cleared, her own cheeks were wet, and she collapsed to her knees.

Kyra thought back to the bastards at the church, the ones sitting pretty on their thrones, while they sent a young girl–barely even nineteen–to give up her life for them. “Damn them. Damn them all.”

1 October 2023

When the templar captain stopped Fera and Kyra on their way out, Kyra groaned internally. Logically, she’d known she’d had it easy so far. The [x]’s weeks travel from Naothair to Cathwain may have been uneventful, other than a rare bandit or five, but she’d always known traveling with the saintess would come with complications.

Still, Fera was the saintess, right? Didn’t that mean her word was supposed to be law or something for these churchy types? What was the point of getting stuck with the job if the girl got all the responsibilities with none of the perks?

“I appreciate your concern, Captain Neumann, but Kyra has proven herself perfectly capable of defending both my person and my honor.”

“And I am grateful for her efforts in escorting you here to Cathwain. But now, surely we can pay her what she’s due, and assign someone more capable to stand at your side?”

Kyra growled and rested one hand on the head of her ax. Before either she or Fera could respond to the templar, though, a bark of laughter sounded from the gate. The three turned to find a hooded man reclined against the doorway, flipping a knife between his fingers. “Capable? Like the way you lot handled the [] invasion? Or how the [slums] are an absolute icon of honor and civility?”

The templar’s hands tightened into fists. “At the very least, we should be more capable of defending the saintess than some drunkard off the street.”

Kyra opened her mouth to protest, then cocked her head. He kind of had a point. At least about the “drunkard off the street” bit. From what she’d seen, though, she figured she could take any of these “knight in shining armor” types.

Based on the shake of his head, the hooded man agreed. “You’ve not even seen the woman in action. Don’t you trust your little saintess’s judgment at all?” Fera protested, but the man ignored her. “Look at the way the woman carries herself. Ten gold says she’d be able to take any one of your people.”

A familiar feral grin spread across Kyra’s face. “Sounds fun. Care to test me, Captain?”

Fera muttered, “Oh, pickles.” Kyra pretended she hadn’t heard her.

21 September 2023 part 2

Kyra had always figured traveling with the saintess was bound to come with complications. But this… this was something else. The [x] weeks’ travel from the holy city of Naothair to Cathwain had been uneventful, other than a rare bandit or several, and the fact Fera felt the need to check in at the local cathedrals seemed to come with the job description.

Then the templar captain had stopped them on their way out, with “concerns about the company her holiness was keeping”. Which… fine. It was annoying, but, fair. Kyra knew she wasn’t the most respectable person around, especially when she got herself drunk. Which was often.

No, Kyra’s issue was that the dumbass reused to listen to anything Fera had to say on the subject. Wasn’t she the saintess? Wasn’t her word supposed to be like law or something for these folks? What was even the point of being stuck with the job if the girl got all of the responsibilities but none of the benefits?

“My lady, please, I implore you. Let one of my templars take over as your bodyguard, and let this… drunkard… back to drowning whatever demons plague her elsewhere.”

“I appreciate your concern, Captain [Neumann], but Kyra has proven herself perfectly capable of defending both my person and my honor, regardless of her degree of inebriation. There’s really no need for you to be concerned.”

The templar–[Neaumann], Fera said?–blinked. “If the issue is a matter of gender, my lady, there are a number of women under my command who would be honored to serve at your side.

VERSION 1

Surely they can serve you better than this mercenary? There’s a large difference between fighting bandits and fighting demons.”

Next to her, Kyra heard Fera mutter, “Oh pickles.” Kyra wasn’t sure if that was because of her or the captain, but she wasn’t going to worry about it. She took a deep breath and glared at the templar. “So your brats know what it feels like, then? They’ve seen demons murder their family? Friends? Watched their homes–their whole village–burn around them? Are they haunted by nightmares still, years, even decades later?”

Both Fera and captain stared at Kyra with wide eyes. She spit on the ground and growled, “Don’t talk sh** about things you don’t understand.”

She turned to leave.

VERSION 2

Surely one of them is more trustworthy than this mercenary?”

Kyra’s hands tightened on her belt, and she forced herself to breath slowly and keep calm. “Are you implying I am not as good as my word?”

The templar shrugged. “It is well known that a mercenary’s loyalties lie with the highest bidder. And while I doubt the demon king would be making any viable offers, there are some less-than-reputable nobles who might be willing to pay a veritable fortune to keep the saintess under their thumb. I’m just saying, a more trustworthy and reputable entourage–”

He was interrupted by a snort of laughter from the wall. The three turned to find a hooded man lounging atop it, a nihilistic smile across his face. “You only need to visit the [slums district name] to see the famous ‘honor of the templars’ at work. Half of them would sell out your ‘precious saintess’ before night fell.”

Based on the way the templar captain grimaced, there was at least some truth to that statement. His expression did a lot to relieve Kyra’s building temper.

The templar opened his mouth to reply, but the stranger cut him off. “Besides, your saintess is right. Look at the way the lady carries herself; she’s no green recruit in shining armor. No, she’s a fighter, and she’d be a more capable protector than any of your little knightlings. Probably better than you, even.”

The captain scowled and glanced at Kyra. She shrugged, then grinned as she suggested, “I know a way we could find out.”

From beside her, Fera muttered, “Oh, pickles.” Kyra decided to pretend like she hadn’t noticed.