Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 104: Plague Doctor

Toren Daen

My hands flickered with embers and distorted buzzing as Mardeth casually floated out of the temple. Even as I felt the mana signatures of the vicars in the surrounding area converge and the tempest of Mardeth's heartbeat slowly receded into the distance, I kept myself grounded and focused on that door.

When I was certain we were out of danger, I turned around. Renea Shorn gave me an arched eyebrow, as if to say, Are you done?

Where before I'd felt a strange sort of awe at her nonchalance in the face of Mardeth's power, now I felt irritation simmering. If that attack had hit her, I doubted she'd be as reserved. She'd nearly been turned into a puddle on the floor, and she still looked unphased.

There was a line between confident and arrogant that this woman walked. I didn't know which side she truly belonged to.

"It seems we have work to do, Lord Daen," she said, brushing past me without a word. "Will you lead me to the warehouse where the people are kept?"

I let out a breath. A little "Thank you for stopping my face from melting off!" would've been nice, but it was pointless in the end.

"Follow me," I said, still feeling a lingering tingle in my palms.

—

As we walked, Lady Shorn split up the platoon. Groups of three and four were sent to scour the layout of East Fiachra, ensuring the Doctrination had truly vacated the premises. I couldn't see Naereni on the rooftops anymore.

But a nagging thought was bouncing around in my skull. Mardeth had wielded the name of High Vicar Varadoth as a shield, clearly trusting in it to protect him from Scythe Seris' retribution. But I knew little about the High Vicar personally, despite the fact he was the head of the state church. Furthermore, he wasn't a character I knew of from the canon of The Beginning After the End. I didn't know what to expect.

"Lady Shorn," I said as we walked, our numbers significantly smaller. "Is the High Vicar such a force that he could match a Scythe in their own Dominion?" I looked to my side, where the demure woman strode with unnatural grace. "He seemed to be the center of Mardeth's reluctance to leave."

Renea Shorn was quiet for a moment. "Do you know the details surrounding the Victoriad a year ago, where Scythe Melzri's Retainer position was up for the taking?"

I furrowed my brow. I hadn't been very aware of the political landscape of Alacrya as I trained with Norgan, so my personal knowledge of the continent–outside of what The Beginning After the End wrote of–was irritatingly sparse. But I had heard of the upset that had happened.

"I know a little. Mardeth was in the runnings to actually become the next Retainer for Etril," I replied. "But at the final bout between him and who would become Retainer Mawar, he publicly withdrew, saying he'd found something better to do."

Which was absolutely foolish, in my opinion.

Lady Shorn nodded. "Retainer Mawar bears a significant grudge due to that. It was a slap in the face to the validity of her power and position. Whispers will always circulate about what might've been if Mardeth had fought her face to face." She shook her head slightly. "But that is beside the point. The Vicar of Plague's open dismissal of the Retainership as being worth his effort was beyond disrespectful. In fact, it bordered on treasonous. To so openly insult Scythe Melzri, and by extension, the Sovereigns who upheld the tournament?"

"So how did he make it out alive?" I asked, finding the unasked question. "If he so openly spat in the faces of those immensely more powerful, what allowed him to walk away?"