Chapter 19: The Red Grail

Chapter 19: The Red Grail

You should have let him die, the Knight of the Beast told her, his eyes squinting behind his horned helm. A lanterns glow reflected on his plate armors steel. You made a mistake.

Marianne ignored him, as she and a dozen armored warriors searched the beach of rocks that had once been Verney Castle. Her messenger bat had reached its destination and allowed a warband of the Knights of the Beast to answer her call. This military order, bound to Horaios Dark Lord Hagith, specialized in hunting and slaying monsters, patrolling tunnels to protect trade, and studying dangerous creatures. They were professionals, and immediately set out to clean the fortress wreckage in search of clues.

They had upturned most stones, finding the crushed remains of burned clones or broken alchemical tools. Precious little evidence had survived the castles destruction, but inquisitors were nothing if not thorough. The remains of Shelleys lab were compiled for psychometry analysis, while specialized black warhounds memorized noteworthy smells.

They had found no trace of the black blood or of the monster it had summoned.

No signs of Bertrand either.

If that thing is still Bertrand, Marianne thought grimly.

The Knights captain continued scolding her. By prioritizing the life of a servant over the greater good, you not only allowed a dangerous cultist to escape, but also let him summon a dangerous eldritch entity in imperial territory. Worse, you failed to finish off your vampire before he could transform into an abomination. Hundreds might die because of your weakness

With all due respect, sir, Marianne interrupted him with a glare, as she turned a stone to reveal the crushed hand of a Sarah Dumont clone, fuck you.

A few knights looked in their direction, while their captains eyes peered at Marianne through his helmets visor.

Bertrand was not only my servant, but a friend and companion. Perhaps you consider it alright to abandon your own allies to their death, but I do not. Mariannes tone turned even more icy as she continued. I acted to the best of my abilities in a situation that your order should have dealt with.

Abilities that were found lacking, the captain replied.

You let a cultist act in your territory. Were it not for my investigation and my retainers efforts, you would still be in the dark about Shelleys activities. If you had done your job and correctly surveyed the region, I wouldnt even be here.

The captain grunted. I will admit our patrols failed to pick up on suspicious activities, but you should still have followed proper procedure, joined us at the nearest station, and then we would have assaulted the castle. Going in alone with your retainer was madness.

Shelley would have escaped anyway, with no blood sample to track him down. Bertrands loss had made her deeply furious, as did her failure to catch the cultist. If not for her need to report the truth to competent authorities in case she perished on the job and her carriage's destruction, Marianne wouldnt have waited for these reinforcements at all.

Maybe. Or maybe your early interference caused the premature summoning of whatever creature you saw. And my point stands, you should have prioritized the cultist over saving your retainer. Some people are simply too dangerous to live. The knight prepared to argue further, when one of his alchemists approached the rocky shore. Squire Jzsef?

Captain Lopold, Lady Reynard, the alchemist made a military salute, fist against his chest. We finished analyzing the suspects blood sample.

Did you find anything? Marianne asked. She had tried to preserve the blood she took from Shelley the best she could, but most of it had dried before the Knights arrived.

I am the one asking questions here, Captain Lopold said with annoyance. Marianne wondered if he was simply unhappy with his job in general; this area was one of Horaios most remote, and not the most prestigious of assignments. Report, Jzsef.

The alchemist offered a sharp nod. The cultist is almost certainly a mutant lycanthrope, sir. We found traces of a modified Beast Plague, inoculated during infancy. Its possible Aleksander Verney got his hands on a sample and modified it to include rat genes.

The Beast Plague. When the Dark Lords last came to blows, Horaios master Hagith had his biomancers create this biological weapon to transform humans into hybrid monsters susceptible to an animancers mental influence.

What was the point? Captain Lopold asked his subordinate.

Rats are intelligent but weak-willed creatures, pliable but capable of complex tasks, the alchemist theorized. Exposure to the Beast Plague usually results in the victim losing higher intelligence and self-control; while this wererat was not as powerful as a werewolf, he clearly kept most of his human intelligence. Enough to run a lab.nove(l)bi(n.)com

And since Shelley had been in his masters employ while an infant Marianne tried not to think too hard about the ghastly implications. Whatever his origin, he is a threat to the empire now, she thought.

And the blood trackers? Captain Lopold asked.

We are synthesizing one as we speak, the biomancer replied. We have enough blood for two, maybe three.

I would like to have one, Marianne asked. She had sworn to hunt the beast, and she would deliver. Besides the danger he posed, maybe Shelley held the keys to returning Bertrand to normal.

Certainly not, the captain replied. Hunting monsters is our orders prerogative.

Marianne frowned. Fighting dangerous spellcasters is the Knights of the Tomes duty.

True, and we will ask for the orders support but you are not a Knight of the Tome. The captain shrugged. We thank you for your assistance, but it is no longer necessary.

I do not work for you, Marianne pointed out, struggling to keep her calm. The sheer ingratitude and condescension got on her nerves. Lord Och asked me to get to the bottom of the matter, and I will.

You are free to pursue your hunt, but not with our trackers.

I brought the blood needed to make them. By now the other knights all looked at their argument, though few showed it. And Bertrand?

He will be caught alive, if possible.

His tone made Marianne clench her fists. Do you truly want to bring Lord Ochs wrath on your head?

I do not answer to him. Lopolds eyes gleamed with scorn beneath his helmet. A case like this shouldnt be entrusted to a noble dilettante and husband killer.

Mariannes cheeks turned red. So that was what it was all about, she realized. I knew his accent sounded Saklasian. He must have studied at the officers academy too. You knew Jrme.

He was ten times the man you were or would have been, if you were a man. The captain glanced at her rapier. And you killed him over a sword.

It was an accident, Marianne said while clenching her teeth.

Then why did you run away and seek Lord Ochs protection? Lopold shrugged, uninterested in her answer. He must have loved you a lot to let you win.

Youre wrong. I was a better swordswoman than he ever was. Even Bertrand had called her a saint of blades; to the point where she had surpassed him in spite of his centuries of experience. And that is why I asked for a duel.

Her Soulbound rapier was her heritage as a Reynard, and though her father had wanted Jrme to wield it, she could never bring herself to surrender it to someone who couldnt best her at swordplay.

Even if she had loved that someone.

I won fair and square, Marianne said. I regret Jrmes death, more than you could possibly know but I dont regret winning that duel.

Riding on a giant beetles back as it ran along the Lightless Oceans shore, Marianne observed the blood-tracker. Taking the shape of a red crystal of fossilized blood, the device shone with a crimson glow depending on the direction she pointed it at. It hadnt taken her long to identify Shelleys most likely destination.

Paraplex, she thought. Hes going to Paraplex.

Shelley couldnt use the Earthmouth portals; now that the Knights had his blood, if he tried he would be immediately detected and caught. He would use longer tunnels. Though the cultist had a heavy lead on her, Marianne might beat him to the Domain thanks to this. And her vampire bats would inform Lord Och long before either of them reached Paraplex.

But Marianne knew better than to underestimate Shelley. Otherworldly forces supported him, and they might rival even the Dark Lords in power.

Marianne glanced at the grimoire in her supply bag. As it turned out, Bestiaries were hefty grimoires distributed to the Knights of the Beasts captains, compiling detailed information on monsters they might be expected to fight. Lopolds book numbered thousands of pages, to the point it might have been heavier than stone.

The information within was confidential, and only meant for high-ranking members of the Knights of the Beast. No wonder Lopold had been so displeased about giving up his own, to a non-member no less.

When her beetle took a pause to drink, Marianne took a moment to check the information on the Qlippoths. The interdimensional species had a whole chapter dedicated to them in the extraplanar dangers subsection. The file opened on the picture of ten orbs connected together by a twisted tree of flesh.

The Tree of Death, she read out loud, to better memorize the content. Flowing from the root of the Nahemoths, who dream the other Qlippoths into existence, the Tree of Death represents the Outer Darkness hierarchy.

Each orb contained the picture of an eldritch creature, some of whom Marianne recognized as beasts who attacked her at the hamlet. Satoriel, or Facethief, she read below a picture of the creature which had impersonated Mona. Second caste born of envy and jealousy... capable of limited shapeshifting seeks to steal the life of others, often to the point of self-delusion easy to identify due to being unable to fully emulate emotions...

Mariannes jaw clenched upon recognizing the picture of the slime creature that taunted her about Jrme in the third castes sphere. Called Ghogiel, or Egoid Ooze, the creature was apparently fueled by sloth; it delighted in convincing people to lay down their arms and spiritually waste away, usually through telepathic attacks.

Each Qlippoth was its own brand of horror, growing more and more powerful the higher their caste. The worst of them occupied the trees bottom, and the picture itself gave Marianne nausea. A disembodied, monstrous face looked back at her on the grimoires pages; a fiery maw surrounded by eyes and swirling tentacles, spitting out the flames of creation. Pictures of the other Qlippoths floated around this monstrosity like fleas around a colossal vampire bat.

The embodiments of selfishness and solipsism, Nahemoths generate a magical field where their desires are laws, allowing them to spawn lesser Qlippoths into existence, Marianne read. While absolute in the Outer Darkness, this ability is limited by the inherent order of our reality. The summoning of a Nahemoth on the material plane instead results in a bounded space-time anomaly where the creature can twist our reality, but not fully control it. A place that is neither the material realm nor the Outer Darkness, but both. A demiplane.

Or a ghost town where Qlippoths played at being humans. Marianne tried to remember the well at its center, and shuddered as she realized what slept at the bottom.

And the more she read, the more cause for concern.

Summoning a Nahemoth is an extremely difficult task for all but the most powerful conjurers, and an act of pure madness, she whispered, her lantern as the only source of light. Nahemoths are malicious entities that cannot be bound to servitude; at best they can be unleashed as living disasters on unsuspecting populations. Fighting a Nahemoth head-on is a feat worthy of a Dark Lord. If you encounter one, contact the nearest headquarters for immediate reinforcements.

Most information about fighting these creatures amounted to containing the lesser Qlippoths while conjurers banished the Nahemoth back to its home plane. Thankfully, powerful spells could achieve such a feat; the Bestiary even detailed a procedure to do exactly that, though it was so complex that it gave Marianne a headache from trying to understand it. Only a powerful sorcerer could pull it off, and certainly not without support.

The thing at the wells bottom had probably been a Nahemoth, true. It checked perfectly.

But according to the Knights Bestiary and Lord Hagiths own words, only an exceptionally powerful conjurer could summon one. Shelleys knowledge of magic seemed limited to rat-related animancy and alchemy. At no point did the mad cultist try to summon reinforcements during their battle at Verney Castle.

He didnt summon the Nahemoth, Marianne thought. He was only studying it.

But then who summoned that creature? She looked into the general parts of the chapter, trying to see if the Qlippoths could invade the material plane without a conjurers support. She quickly noticed a section that had been recently edited.

Most scholars theorize that the Outer Darkness is a dimension of pure chaos and festering madness, Marianne read. Recent oneiromancy research in Astaphanos suggests instead that the Primordial Dream shared by men, dokkars, and lesser races may be a subsection of the Outer Darkness. It is possible that the collective unconscious evolved as lifes dreamscape, a protective cocoon created by sentient life to protect itself from depredations; this would explain the intimate link between Qlippoths and the emotional spectrum.

Marianne rarely dreamed, but she shuddered at the idea of something like the false Mona looking at her innermost thoughts. Worse, the Bestiarys theory begged a very important, and terrible question.

If the Outer Darkness is a dream, Marianne whispered to herself, then who is the dreamer?

The Bestiarys writer answered her question.

Oneiromancy researchers suggest that the Qlippoths are the will of a Stranger made manifest, she read. The same way the Nightmare of Kazat was created by dreamers perishing in their sleep, the Outer Darkness may be an almighty Strangers dreamscape. In this interpretation, the mightiest Nahemoths are no more than the conduits of a larger being's creative impulses. Considering the Primordial Dream might have been unconsciously created by life to protect itself from Qlippothic influence, we must assume that this entitys desires are antithetical to mankinds survival. As such, every member of the species found unbound must be executed on the spot.

Marianne closed the book, considered this information, and then tried to put everything in order. She reviewed every part of her case, and tried to see how it all fit.

The Verney Cult was heavily associated with Qlippoths. A Nahemoth had recreated a copy of Vernburg for a reason Marianne couldnt fathom, and Shelley clearly cooperated with it. The Qlippoths found in the hamlet also smelled like Valdemar, suggesting a connection.

If the Bestiarys theory was correct and Qlippoths served a Stranger then it might have been the creature that the Verney cult worshipped. The entity that had manifested its will through the rune beneath Verney castle. It was its blood that the cult had tried to harvest by creating their unholy grail.

But why clone Sarah Dumont? What made her so important? Because she was the daughter of a human from another world? The Verney had been interested in travelers from this Earth according to the False Mona. What made them important?

Theyre not worthy! Shelley had screamed, when the black blood had consumed both Bertrand and his own rat familiar. Not worthy!

It made them worthy.

Everything fell into place, and Mariannes eyes widened in horror. She searched for a feather and ink among the supplies given to her, and scribbled down a genealogical tree. One far simpler, and far more terrifying than she had thought.

Pierre Dumont and Lavina Verney were Sarah Dumonts parents; two worlds united through a single bloodline with special powers. One that was worthy of the cults greatest honor. One that could survive it.

This accounted for Valdemars maternal side.

As for the paternal

Perhaps the truth is even stranger, Lord Och had told Marianne when she asked for his opinion on Valdemars true nature.

Stranger.

The Dark Lord had hinted at the truth, dangling it right under her nose.

The grail is alive! Alive!

The red grail. A vessel capable of holding a gods blood and bind worlds together. One made of bones and flesh, that promised immortality. A living bridge between the cult and their vile deity.

Marianne wrote the bloody rune she had seen below Verney Castle in the place of Valdemars father.

We must assume that this entitys desires are antithetical to mankinds survival.

I pray, for all our sake, Marianne thought grimly, that he took from his mothers side of the family.