Chapter 20: Mouse Trap

Chapter 20: Mouse Trap

A giant rat, you say? The old man smiled with a crooked tooth, his eyes hidden behind bandages and an old musket resting on his thighs. Havent smelled a rat in a while. My cat catches them all.

A hooded visitor, maybe? Marianne asked from atop her giant beetle. The farm was calm and peaceful, with giant snails peacefully grazing moss inside their pens. Their owner lived modestly in a two-floor, hollow stone pillar of a house. There were lights and dancing shadows behind the windows. Someone who didnt show his face, traveling to Paraplex?

The old farmer scratched his white beard as he sank deeper into his rocking chair. Though he appeared calm at first glance, Marianne could see the tension in his fingers. A wrong move and he would reach out for his weapon.

Marianne couldnt blame him for being suspicious. The closest farm was half an hour away, and these tunnels werent frequented; the only light came from the houses or the few lanterns along the road. For all the farmer knew, she might have been a highwaywoman or worse.

I swear on the Light, Marianne said. This... man is a criminal and a murderer. If you know anything

Yes, yes. The farmer shrugged. Imperial officials only come to collect taxes or hang poachers around here.

Im not here for either. She had too many questions to ask Shelley before she could consider a summary execution. If you do not remember anyone, it is fine. I will be on my way.

There is there was someone. The farmer stopped playing with his beard and looked over his shoulder, at the iron, decrepit door of his home. Dear?

Yes, Da? a younger, female voice answered from the other side.

You said you met a leper while washing clothes at the well?

Yes, poor thing! The woman answered. Bandaged everywhere, wouldnt even show his face or approach me! Said he was looking for a healer to soothe his pain, so I sent him to Emma and he thanked me!

Emma? Marianne asked.

The apothecary, the farmer replied with a sneer. Closest thing weve got to a healer since our last one took a nap in the dirt, though methinks a few of the villages men pray to her cunt. Her three whelps gotta come from somewhere.

Im sure Werner is the dad! his daughter answered through the door. He visits her every day!

The farmer snorted. None of the children look the same. Youngest one got fire in the hair, while Werners beard is as black as they come.

Marianne wondered how he knew that detail since he was blind. When did it happen? she asked. If the Light had shined on her, she might have finally found a lead on Shelleys itinerary.

My dear washes clothes every first day of the week.

So three days ago? One day after Verney Castles collapse, Marianne counted. It could have been Shelley. Considering his inhuman endurance and speed, he wouldnt have needed a mount to cross the distance in such a short time. Can you show me the way to this lady's house?

The farmer gave her directions with a chucklethe house with the garden to the left of the roads second lanternand Marianne tossed him a coin as she left.

It was easy to notice the lanterns in the ambient darkness, and far more difficult to see the road itself. Most routes from Horaios to Paraplex went through Mariannes home Domain of Saklas, but thankfully Shelley had taken a less frequented tunnel. Since they were far away from Earthmouths, few people inhabited these pathways; this village probably numbered less than forty families dispersed across kilometers.

From their sinuous shape and walls of volcanic rock, the swordswoman suspected that these caves used to be lava tubes and magma chambers. The ceiling was low, and the road would benefit from repairs.

Although her eyes focused on the lanterns lights ahead, Mariannes thoughts turned to another matter. To a revelation and questions she had rehearsed in her head for the last few days, trying to fathom their implication.

Valdemar Verney was a half-Stranger, a living ritual, and cult experiment born to serve a nefarious purpose.

But which one?

Was Valdemar meant to serve as his progenitors messenger in Underland? A living gateway for the Qlippoths to enter the material plane? A vessel for the Stranger to possess? Did the Verney purge truly disrupt this entitys plans, or simply delay them? And most important of all, what was Marianne supposed to do with Valdemar himself?

Captain Lopolds words came to mind.

Some people are too dangerous to live.

If there was any risk that Valdemar might yet fulfill his intended purpose, even unintentionally

An inquisitor wouldnt have hesitated. Though Valdemar was unaware of his heritage, the greater good commanded that he should perish. Every breath this ticking time bomb took might bring the empire closer to a disaster. Marianne simply had to spread the news, and the Knights would burn the last Verney on a pyre; even Lord Och would probably let it happen, if the information became public knowledge. The lich didnt fear the masses, but other Dark Lords would pressure him into relinquishing his protg.

Marianne only had to send a single letter, and it would be all over.

And yet and yet she hesitated.

Considering the breasts and body shape, she must have been a human woman once but these were the only hints to her former identity. The corpse had an elongated rat head, the bloodshot eyes consumed by fungi growth. Pustules grew on the furred back, while maggots festered in the slitted throat and stumped tail. The mutants dried blood had been arranged into the dreadful shape of Verney Castles rune, as if the baleful symbol had gorged itself on the creatures life. A sentence was carved into the corpses forehead, a promise and a warning.

We always return to the Blood.

Marianne had no idea how long she gazed at the macabre spectacle, unable to say a word, unable to process what she saw. It wasnt the sight of the symbol that mesmerized her, or the worrying absence of Emmas children that paralyzed her muscles. It was everything, all at once.

Mariannes breath grew shorter and shorter. Am I am I shaking? she thought as she glanced at her shivering hands. The noblewoman trembled as if she had walked straight into a cold chamber.

First that twisted village, then Bertrand, then Valdemars true nature and the implications of his mere existence Now Now this

And the children Four plates, but no trace of the children.

It it was too much. Too much all at once.

Marianne sat on the workbench, the lanterns light dimming in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes, breathing in and out in an attempt to calm herself. The noblewoman attempted to meditate, to clear her mind. She closed herself to the foul smell of this tomb, banishing the memories of the horror she had seen.

Was this how Inquisitor Penhew had felt after the Verneys purge? Too many dreadful encounters at once, a dive into the darkness leaving the mind exhausted, the spirit wavering?

What was even the point in continuing? Everywhere she went, it was already too late. Maybe dark gods smiled on Shelley, looking over his work with favor. Investigating the Verney case had only resulted in the loss of Bertrand and unleashing more horrors on the world. Maybe fate was already written, and the forces Marianne fought were beyond her ability to overcome.

No.

No, she couldnt give up. Not now, not later. She refused. Not while she could still do something.

Bertrand wasnt dead, and could still be saved. Valdemar hadnt become a monster. The children were missing, but hopefully alive. Shelley could be slain.

Marianne hadnt lost yet. Maybe she would fail to change anything. But at least, she would have tried.

Her heart invigorated with grim determination, the noblewoman opened her eyes and returned to her search. She examined the mutated body, trying to confirm her identity. From the clothes and pouches of herbs around her thorn belt, this was probably Emma herself.

Had Shelley transformed her into a monster through the black blood?

We found traces of a modified Beast Plague, the Knights of the Beasts alchemist had said, inoculated during infancy.

Marianne glanced at the alchemical tools, and the remnants of Shelleys blood on the floor.

Its possible Aleksander Verney got his hands on a sample and modified it to include rat genes.

Shelley had extracted the modified plague that turned him into a monster from his own blood, and used Emma as a test subject. Her aging body couldnt resist the changes and perished rather than fully transform.

Only a few days, Marianne thought. Shelley had ransacked this house three days ago and probably left last morning. The illness was lethally effective.

The noblewoman returned to the entrance and examined the footprints with more attention. She confirmed that some were smaller than others. The children had survived the inoculation, but considering the plates and the lack of resistance, the plague had given Shelley a hold on their mind. They had become no different than the rats he controlled.

Though the cultists cruel acts filled her with loathing, Marianne couldnt help but ponder the reasons behind them. Was he trying to recruit new minions, to indoctrinate new wererats into the Verney cult? Why hadnt he done it before then?

And why had he been so so careless? Shelley had set his last lab on fire, and been careful to keep his activities hidden for years. And now, he had left the corpse of a sacrifice in the open like a morbid trophy. And though he had made a token effort to break the tools behind him and obscure the purpose of his experiments, it struck Marianne as half-assed. A carelessness that bordered on arrogance.

Either Shelley didnt think that it mattered if people learned of his existence and activities or he actively wanted word to spread. Perhaps he took joy in finally practicing his vile religion after years of hiding in a castles crypt and exulted in his newfound mission. But somehow, Marianne suspected a larger scheme was at work.

Even stranger, her blood-tracker still mostly pointed towards Paraplex. Even if Shelley recruited a dozen wererats, they wouldnt be enough to bypass the Institutes defenses. If he attempted something so foolhardy as an infiltration or assault, Lord Och would slay him.

Unless

Unless Shelley didnt intend to attack the Institute from the front. It would make more sense to stretch its resources thin, or force a desperate situation where Valdemar would have to leave the fortress to help. A terrible disaster that even a Dark Lord would be hard-pressed to deal with...

Mariannes eyes widened in panic as she put the two and two together, and she rushed outside. She climbed on her riding beetle and fled towards Paraplex as fast as she could, without even alerting the locals to their herbalists fate. The danger was too great, and every second wasted would endanger more lives.

Shelley had created a plague, and he had already selected the first carriers.