The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 7: Stories on the Road

“And lo! The Gods descended from the whirling stars. A host of Seraphs at their call and a sacred mission in their hearts. In saintly tongues they imparted cosmic truths; and with silver tears they warned of the coming threat. For they might be the first to find our home, but they would not be the last.” - The Book of Miracles, Arrivals 1:3

True to his predictions, Cole recovered much in the next three days. His wounds had scabbed over, and the worst of the pain was gone. Natalie thought he was lying until she helped him change his bandages and saw how much he’d healed. Even then, she remained unconvinced and took time every day to tell Cole he was being foolish.

The two of them managed to concoct a story about Cole suffering a bad fall off some rocks to tell Wilhelm and anyone else curious enough to ask. It was believable if you didn’t see the full extent of his injuries, which were not challenging to conceal considering the distance the patrons of the Silly Goat gave the hulking and scarred “pilgrim.” Cole was used to the virtual isolation, spending much of his time recuperating in his room with an occasional trip to the market or Temple to break up the monotony.

Natalie found herself mystified by the affection Stockings had for Cole. The Cat followed him around the Silly Goat and could be found batting at his door when he left for an errand. Cole returned the affection. And Natalie was on more than one occasion greeted by the surreal sight of Cole sitting by the fireplace in all his scarred glory, with the small tawny Cat perched on his lap like some mighty Lion surveying its domain from a clifftop.

On the evening of his third day of rest, Natalie found the pair sitting thus; cat watching the fire and Cole relaxing in a chair with his eyes shut. It was late, Cole and Natalie being the only inhabitants of the tavern, aside from the cat. Stockings heard Natalie approach and swiveled on Cole’s lap to look at her. Giving Natalie that look of aloof judgment only a cat can muster. To Natalie’s intense amusement, Cole mimicked the action, so man and Cat were synchronized. Coming over to stand in front of the fire, with Cole and Stockings' eyes tracking her the entire time, Natalie debated her words carefully.

Over the past few days, she’d debated asking Cole if she could come along during his hunt for the Varcolac. It was an idiotic idea, and Natalie knew it, but it wouldn’t leave her mind. Every night when she tried to sleep, the ruined canine face of the monster filled her dreams, accompanied by the screams and crunching sounds of her mother’s death. Before now, the idea of vengeance had seemed an impossibility. The Varcolac was driven off by one of the Lord’s Knights; escaping judgment and not seen since.

Until now vengeance had been nothing but a fantasy beyond Natalie’s reach, and she hadn’t even bothered to dwell on it. Now with Cole offering her a path to brutal justice, Natalie couldn’t stop thinking about it. More than that, she wanted to witness this Paladin strike down the Varcolac and see its evil destroyed. It was becoming a visceral need to vicariously experience the death of what had killed her mother and brought so much pain to Natalie and her father. So now that brought her to this. Looking to risk her life accompanying a possibly insane holy-knight on his quest.

Clearing her throat and preparing herself to make a passionate argument for why she should join him on a likely lethal mission, Natalie started. “I want to come with you when you hunt the Varcolac. I know it’s going to be dangerous, but I need this Cole. I need to see the thing that killed my mom die.”

Cole looked at her for a long moment, his expression matched by the Cat on his lap. The Paladin saw the anger in Natalie’s eyes. It was a look he knew far too well, the most destructive form of grief. Anger burns hot and can push people farther than they thought possible, but it sears their very being and so easily hurts those around them. Righteous fury like what Natalie felt could be the worst form of anger. How could one deny the anger of someone who has suffered so? How can you deny and invalidate the rage born of injustice and evil? Cole had much experience dealing with grief, and he knew if he handled this poorly, it could be damaging to the fiery young woman who’d gone out of her way to help him.

The rage he saw in Natalie had been kept bottled up and now had broken free. She wanted an enemy, a monster, to slay. Hoping to find some sort of solace in vengeance and destruction. She thought that Cole could help her get that form of catharsis, which he could, but Natalie failed to understand Cole and his duties. The Varcolac was a near mindless beast, comparable to a rabid wolf in intelligence and actions. It had once been a person. One who’d been consumed by the curse of Lycanthropy and then trapped in undeath. While much suffering had occurred because of it, the Varcolac was not a true monster. It was another victim, whose tragedy washed onto others. Cole would hunt down and destroy it not out of vengeance and hate but as an act of mercy. Freeing the Soul trapped within and perhaps bringing a measure of peace to those who had suffered.

Gently Cole picked up the Cat sitting on his lap and set it on the ground next to him, the indignant feline letting out a yowl as it was displaced. Facing Natalie, Cole made his decision. He wanted her to see what he did and why he did it. He hoped in doing so, he might help her heal from the loss of her mother in a healthy way.

“Natalie, I’m not going to insult your intelligence with dire warnings of how dangerous following me on this hunt would be. I will take you and protect you to the best of my abilities, but under one condition.”

Natalie was surprised, her practiced arguments fading from her lips as Cole continued. “I want you to accompany me tomorrow when I lay the Vryko-Ghouls to rest. I wan to give you an idea of what exactly I do, and prepare you for the Varcolac. They are a terrible mixture of bestial fury, undead resilience, and ravening hunger but also capable of surprising cunning. I cannot deny your wish to accompany me, but I refuse to let you die needlessly.”

The fire crackled, casting changing shadows on Natalie and Cole. Stockings had adapted to her eviction by curling up around Cole’s feet, uncaring of the serious conversation occurring around her. Natalie found Cole’s habit of blindsiding her both endearing and annoying. He subverted her expectations and acted with both gentleness and thoughtfulness. Every time she readied herself to bash through any obstacle he might present, he simply stepped aside. Infuriatingly polite and decent of him, constantly throwing Natalie’s confrontational self off balance.

Finally, Natalie said, “That… that seems reasonable to me. Tomorrow shouldn’t be that busy; I’ll be able to convince my father to let me have the day off.”

She knew she couldn’t exactly tell Wilhelm the truth that she was accompanying Cole on this dangerous errand. Natalie already had several excuses planned out, and worse case, she could sacrifice her pride and claim she’d been with a boy, which wouldn’t be strictly untrue. A few questions did percolate, and she figured asking them now was as good of a time as any.

“This might sound strange, but why did you say you won’t let me die needlessly? That seems a strange thing for a worshipper of Master Time to say. Wouldn’t you want people to die since that is what your God oversees?”

To her surprise, Cole chuckled slightly. “The Nobles of this place have done a fine job in muddying the nature of my God. Every God is in truth, a much more primordial and powerful being than we mortals usually understand. We view them through the peephole of our limitations and fail to grasp the whole truth. Master Time is the name we give to a living, thinking cosmic force. An emanation of the light of creation, residing in the Beyond and reflected in our World.”

“The facet people so often observe of this being is entropy and how time destroys all. That is a valid perspective but an incomplete one. Time is more than just the end of something; it is everything from the beginning onwards.”

“It is my duty to serve Master Time in his entirety. Not just in ensuring things meet a proper end, but to ensure they have a proper everything. So in helping you, Natalie, I seek to preserve who you are and what you could be. Death is inevitable, but that does not mean we should run freely to it. To be born and live life to its fullest; is as much something my God oversees as death.”

For most of her life, Natalie had attended temple services and listened to the various Priests talk about the Pantheon, whom humanity has worshiped since history began. They told stories and parables about much more… personal Gods than what Cole described. Of how the Gods once walked the earth and brought wonders to the worthy. How the Gods helped Mira the Martyr shut the Gates Beyond. Weeping tears of gold at being separated from their people. But still willing to be cut off to protect us from the predators of the Beyond. The priests demonstrated miracles of healing and protection, proving even now, despite millennia of separation, the Gods still listen to our prayers.

Viewing them as these alien forces of nature felt cold and strange. If that was the creed Master Time’s followers preached, then Natalie could understand why the Nobles had been so successful in virtually stamping out the faith. That being said, Natalie understood what Cole was trying to convey and got a bit more insight into the Man. This was perhaps the most words of substance she’d gotten out of him. He seemed so surreal, a scarred warrior who’s clearly suffered from torture and worse, that leaped into battle against Undead nightmares. While acting with a serene yet polite aloofness that made little sense to Natalie. She honestly couldn’t tell if Cole was mad or simply saw life in a way she couldn’t.

Natalie had gone this far, and Cole seemed to be in a sharing mood, so she asked another question. One that had been gnawing on her for days now. “Okay, so now I have to ask. How did you become a Paladin of Master Time? How’d you start worshiping and serving such a God?”

That strange calm smile of Cole’s cracked for a split second, but he quickly recovered. “I’d rather not share the details, but you’ve earned an explanation. Bluntly I wanted a boon from Master Time and thought serving him would be the best way to get it. So I started to hunt Undead and try and better the world where I could. My actions caught his attention, and he offered me this role. At first, I did it solely to earn what I desired from Master Time, but that changed. It might sound silly, but I found purpose, doing something with my skills and nature that others cannot. It’s been ten years since I became a Paladin, and for all its hardships, I feel at peace in this role.”

Again, that was not what Natalie expected; she’d imagined fantastical scenarios of divine intervention and faith born of struggle. Not what, in essence, boiled down to Cole getting a job from a God and finding out he enjoyed it. In her eyes, it humanized him; finding a purpose or at least a trade you enjoy is something many people hope for. Cole had managed to find one in an unlikely place.

Throughout this conversation, Natalie had been standing in front of the fireplace, and she’d entirely forgotten its heat. Stepping away gingerly, trying not to show how’d she almost cooked herself. Natalie leaned against the nearby wall and asked the last question on her mind. “The boon you wanted. Did you ever get it?”

Cole made a noise that was half a chuckle, half a sigh. Idly he reached up to his neck, where Natalie knew hundreds of scars were hidden by his shirt. Stroking the covered skin, he answered her. “Yes and no, I need only ask for it, but I have not.”

Staring into the fire, Cole slowly got to his feet and gently moved the sleeping Cat from his boots. Turning towards Natalie, Cole carried a mournful look. One she recognized in the mirror far too often, the face of grief. Natalie was suddenly struck with the urge to apologize for breaching this topic, but Cole spoke up. “I would like to leave before the eleventh bell tomorrow, so prepare traveling clothes and anything you will need. It is not far, and I remember the way, but it is best to over-prepare.”

Cole walked towards the staircase leading up to his room, pausing at the foot of the steps, he turned back to Natalie. “Thank you for the company Natalie, it has been… refreshing.”

With that, he headed to his room and left Natalie alone in the Tavern. Slightly confused and more than a little bit uncertain about her idea of joining Cole on this expedition, Natalie sighed and headed to bed. An aloof Stockings followed her, having lost her new favorite lap to sleep on and settling for Natalie. Once in her room, Natalie found the unfinished sculpture of the Cat and looked it over. She decided she’d bring it with her tomorrow, something to do rather than be bored, hopefully finishing the piece in the next few days. For now, she needed to sleep to be ready for tomorrow.

It had taken some convincing and some half-truths, but Wilhelm let Natalie take the day off. The fact she had gotten up early to do his morning chores and brewed him some of his favorite tea probably had something to do with the decision. So Natalie gathered up her pack, a cloak and prepared to set out with Cole. They’d agreed to meet near the north gate that morning, and Cole was waiting for her when she arrived. While Natalie was dressed in layers and carried a small pack, Cole looked much as he usually did, with only a new cloak draped over his broad shoulders.

To this unpreparedness, Natalie raised an eyebrow. Cole had stressed the importance of preparation and yet carried no backpack or even a simple traveling sack. Slightly sheepishly, Cole answered her unspoken question. “After fighting the Vryko-Ghouls, I was forced to leave my equipment. Getting back to Glockmire was the priority.”

Natalie snorted at that. “I am no huntress, but even I know your pack is probably strewn across half a kilometer of woods. It’s been nearly a week; any enterprising fox or similar would have rooted after your rations and not been gentle.”

Cole actually smiled at that. “A spell hiding my pack from scavengers is woven into its material. Additionally, the Vryko-Ghoul’s bodies would discourage all but the most desperate creature. Do you have any more questions, or are you ready to depart?”

To that, Natalie simply shrugged her shoulders, and the duo left Glockmire, passing through the same gate that Natalie had dragged Cole through just a few days prior. It was shortly after the eleventh bell, and they had maybe nine hours of daylight to complete the task. Cole wasted no time in heading out on the path, Natalie tagging behind him. The day was crisp but not unpleasant, Fall had so far been gentle in Zaubervold. It took Natalie little time to strike up a conversation with Cole, sharing stories of her life and of life in Glockmire. At first, the large man found it off-putting but quickly grew to enjoy her curiosity and forthrightness.

Listening to her talk Cole realized how much he missed this kind of simple contact. He’d been alone on the road far too long, and he’d gotten so used to the quiet isolation that he’d forgotten what it was like to have pleasant company. Watching Natalie animatedly describe this year’s Summer Solstice Festival and the revelry that occurred with it, Cole’s mind drifted back to old memories of times when he’d not been so alone. When he had a family, or at least something close to it. That was gone now; only ash and bone remained. His memories the only record of his lost home and the people he lost with it.

Natalie saw the strange wistful expression on Cole’s face. “Are you alright? You seem distant; I’m not boring you, am I? Stories about a small mountain town must seem trite compared to what you’ve experienced.”

Cole waved off her concerns. “No, no, I just got caught up in some memories. I’m finding your company interesting. Please continue.” Cole then paused for a moment and considered his words. “I… do not have much experience with the things you would call trite. Life in a place like Glockmire is probably as interesting to me as any story I have of dangerous wilds, and hungry monsters is to you.”

That made Natalie pause. It was strange to think about but made a certain kind of sense. It’s all about perspective. That had been one of her mother's first lessons when teaching her to carve. How a piece might mean different things to different people, and how you can use that to breathe life into art. Absently Natalie reached up to her hair, stroking the metal hair-clip and the bird engraved into it.

Cole interrupted her from her thoughts with his usual armor-piercing words. “Are you thinking about your mother?”

Natalie opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but he answered before she could. “I can see it in your eyes when your mind goes to her.”

An irrational feeling of shame and exposure flared in Natalie; having her thoughts and emotions read so easily was distressing. Cole saw this and felt a twinge of guilt himself. He’d not meant to hurt Natalie, but his own honest nature had gotten the better of him. Cole didn’t like to lie; he’d seen how dishonesty could weave webs that strangled everyone involved. At the same time, he knew the importance of secrets. So avoiding or deflecting questions or truths had been his compromise. Something that he’d managed to slip up on already. Speaking the truth in what he saw in Natalie, when it might have been better to stay quiet.

“I’m sorry, that was tactless of me.” was the apology he mustered, and Cole prepared to settle back into his usual patterns. His nature and duty kept him at a distance from everyone, and that isolation had become natural. A slight shift towards more sociability, and he opened his mouth at the wrong time. He’d done the same thing when he’d first arrived in Glockmire and was kicking himself for making the same mistake.

Natalie took a deep breath, pushing back the welling of grief that Cole’s words had brought to the surface. It was silly really, any emotional strife she experienced, no matter how small or petty, would provide an opening for the grief. Three years should have been enough time to heal, and it seemed like it was until recently. Maybe she’d just gotten better at bottling it up, or maybe there was some eldritch aura around Cole that brought it front and center. He was a Paladin of Master Time, and if the legends were anything to go by, he should have gifts given to him by his God. Wouldn’t that be perfect, his blessing being the ability to dredge up unaddressed guilt?

“It’s fine,” Natalie told both Cole and herself. “How can you tell? How can you see what I’m experiencing? Is it magic?” The idea that his insights were somehow arcane occurred to Natalie just as she said it. She certainly hoped that was not the case. It was hard enough dealing with all of this without the idea of Cole being able to magically read her emotions.

Cole let out a deep sigh and tried to assuage her worries while providing an explanation. “Undead only typically arise in the wake of a calamity. The suffering and unconsecrated bodies left in the wake of the tragedy easily rising up as all matter of the Undead. So in my duties, I often find myself arriving in the wake of a terrible event. I’ve seen thousands of survivors of virtually every kind of disaster. Survivors who I often have to speak with to track down a Risen friend or family member. Natalie, I have seen more grief than the common tongue has words for. With that much experience, one gets a knack for seeing loss and all that comes with it.”

Smiling sadly, Cole did not let Natalie voice the new worry that he saw surface on her face. “And no, before you ask, your grief is not somehow less or invalid compared to others I’ve seen. Don’t let your mind go in that direction; it helps no one and is false no matter what our darkest thoughts might tell us.”

That brought a bit of solace to Natalie, and she returned his smile with a weak one of her own. “Thank you, Cole, but stop that.”

“Stop what?” he responded, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“Answering questions before I ask them, responding in ways I can’t predict. That whole thing!” was Natalie’s response, colored by her gesturing at Cole with a vague flapping motion.

That brought a genuine laugh to Cole’s lips. “I don’t think I can help it, but I will try.”

The two shared a small chuckle, a release of tension followed by silence. They were far from Glockmire now; it wouldn’t be long before they would have to leave the road. That idea scared Natalie more than she wanted to admit. For her entire life, the wilds around Glockmire had been a source of healthy fear. The stories she and every other child were told painted a grisly picture of a monster-infested place of shadows and death. Dwelling on that would not be good, so Natalie tried to reignite the conversation.

“You said you’ve been a Paladin for a decade, right? And that you’ve traveled a lot, tell me about that.”

Cole pondered for a moment, picking out what stories would be good to share. “Well, my duties have taken me all across the Western Continent, and I’ve seen much of its peoples. Recently I passed through the Dragon-spines and helped some Dwarven prospectors who had accidentally unearthed a collapsed mine shaft and the Knockers still inside. Poor souls had been trapped in a cave for years, and nearly twenty of them had Risen. It was a difficult fight, but there’s nobody I would rather have at my back fighting in a tunnel than a Dwarf.”

Natalie felt a slight shiver go down her spine as he told the story. With its quarries and mines worming through the mountains, Glockmire was no stranger to things like Knockers. A blanket term used to refer to any Ghoul or Ghost resulting from deaths in a Mine. It was one of the first scary stories Natalie had ever heard in her childhood. Of miners hearing that tell-tale “Knock... Knock….Knock” of a hungry Ghoul slowly chipping through the stone. Trapped in an accidental tomb, trying to break its way through solid rock. Most Knockers wore themselves to dust, but one gets free from poor luck or poor digging every now and then.

Absently Cole ran his hands through his hair. His giant finger roving over pale locks and scarred scalp. It had not been his intent to unnerve Natalie with that tale. It had been one of his more pleasant stories; the Prospectors all survived, and the Knockers were to rest. He idly thought how telling it was that even his tamer exploits involved horrible death and undeath. Cole was genuinely trying to be social and connect with Natalie, but his context for “normal” was skewed beyond belief.

They walked in silence for a while before Natalie spoke up again. “Tell me another story, like that one.”

Cole was surprised, and it showed on his face. It was Natalie’s turn to answer a question before it was asked. “If I’m going to accompany you to destroy the Vryko-Ghouls and eventually the Varcolac, I need an idea of what this all involves. Wouldn’t it be better to hear some scary stories now and try to toughen up, then fall apart when I need to be strong later?”

Cole had to agree with her. It was a prudent choice, and Natalie was far past the point of burying her head in the ground. Before he could tell another similarly grisly tale, Natalie asked another question. “Yesterday, you talked about Master Time being the God of more than just Death. With him protecting all of life, not just its end. Then why do you just hunt Undead? Aren’t there other duties you could do? Why are you wandering around destroying the Undead if your God is more than a God of Death?”

That earned a pause from Cole before he tried to best answer her. “Numerous reasons, the first is what exactly a Paladin is. We are warriors in service to a God; it is our duty to defend what they oversee. In Master Time’s case, the part of his domain that needs the most protection is Death. The Undead, in their myriad forms, are the most common and dangerous violations of the natural order of time. A contamination in the Aether that if unchecked will swallow the World, as it has done to others.”

Natalie did not fully understand what Cole was talking about. She knew other worlds existed, places out in the cosmos also touched by the Beyond and the Gods, but she’d never heard of them being consumed or destroyed. For the first time she could remember, Natalie thought it was acceptable to not want to know more about something.

“Secondly,” continued Cole. “Fighting the Undead and putting them to rest is what I am skilled at. I am sure other Paladins of Master Time exist with broader duties, but I am not one of them. My skill is ensuring the dead stay that way, so it is what my God tasks me with.”

Natalie mulled this over for a while and found herself lost in her thoughts. It was true the ability to fight and survive was a valuable skill. Soldiers, Mercenaries, and all manner of warriors proved that. So it made sense that even a God would require such a person, but it also felt strange. When she thought of Holy Warriors, she thought of Griffon-riding Knights leading armies of the faithful against unleashed Demon swarms. Not a vagabond warrior who crept through dark places fighting walking corpses.

Lost in thought and musing on all of this, she didn’t notice Cole stop and turn from the road. Natalie thought she was alone on the road for a split second before Cole’s arm waived from the nearby forest. Natalie scampered after him, trying to not show the momentary panic she’d felt at the idea of being abandoned. Here near the road, the forest was relatively thin and easy to traverse. Something that was lost on Natalie as she followed the trail Cole made. She had lived her whole life in Glockmire, and moving through the brush required a set of skills she hadn't contemplated.

The conversation died off as Natalie was forced to put much of her focus on not tripping over the forest floor. The small but constant grade of the ground quickly wore on her legs, and Natalie felt increasingly annoyed at the difficulty of simply navigating the wilderness. Cole, in contrast, slipped through the brush with practiced ease. He seemed to flow between bushes and trees like some large predator. The contrast of his grace and size was bewildering. Natalie quickly sensed that he was slowing himself down to not leave her behind, and she was equally grateful and incensed. Eventually, they stopped at a small stream flowing through the forest to get a drink. Natalie had packed a water skin and was thankful for a chance to refill it. As they prepared to continue, Cole grabbed Natalie’s pack and tossed it over one shoulder.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Natalie followed him, glad to have her burden lightened. She wouldn’t let her wounded pride get in the way of courtesy, though. “Thank you, I’m not used to this sort of thing.”

Cole simply nodded in response and kept walking. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but his focus was firmly on the forest around them. While the Vryko-Ghouls were no longer a threat, that did not mean other dangers did not lurk in the woods. Cole was reasonably confident he was headed in the right direction but knew it would be easy to get lost in these woods. Eventually, they came across what he’d been looking for. A tree with a gash in its bark. After facing the Vryko-Ghouls and trying to make his way back to Glockmire. He marked his trail with his weapon.

Natalie saw the mark and followed Cole’s gaze as he looked out into the forest. It was Natalie who found the second mark, maybe five or so meters away on a different tree. “Is that what you are looking for?” she asked.

“Yes, we follow the marks; we will get to the clearing where the Vryko-Ghouls are.” Cole’s responsed.

With the trail to follow, he could spare Natalie some of his attention and decided to ask her a question. “You have seen a corpse before, correct?”

That got a shiver from Natalie. “Yes, during the Plague and the attacks afterward, I saw lots of bodies. Some destroyed undead, some their victims. Why do you ask?”

“Vryko-Ghouls are particularly foul appearing Undead, and I wanted to prepare you. We will be getting close soon. Do you have any questions?”

This was true, but Cole was also trying to restart the conversation with Natalie. He enjoyed it, more so than he thought he might. Now he only had to manage not to poke Natalie in her emotional wounds as he had done previously.

“Not really, no. But I am curious, what happened with the Dwarf Prospectors you met?” Natalie wanted to strike up a conversation again as well. Cole smiled, thinking back to the few days he spent with the prospectors. He liked Dwarfs on principle. Sturdy of mind, body, and soul, the Children of the Deep Stone are by and large, honest, hardworking folk. When referring to them, the old saying went, “No better friend, no worse enemy,” and Cole had to agree. Thankfully his experiences had been typically cooperative, with his aid greatly appreciated.

“The patch of mountain they were digging in is rich with iron, and they had found an old abandoned Imperial mine flush with ore. The foredwarf assumed the mine had been forgotten when the Old Empire collapsed, and the group quickly got to work. As I mentioned earlier, the truth was that the mine had partially collapsed and buried many workers with it. Some of which rose up as Knockers and attacked the Dwarfs when they cleared out the collapsed tunnels.”

“Thankfully, the Dwarfs reacted quickly, and they all managed to escape. It was around then I arrived and offered my help. I remember the Foredwarf, Zarad was his name, looking at me bug-eyed when I just wandered up the trail and asked if they needed any aid. He and his

miners were skeptical at first, but together we managed to clear out the mine and release the Knockers. None of the Dwarfs had been badly injured, but I took some hits”

A slight contented smile then formed on Cole’s face. “So I stayed with the Dwarfs for a few days, and it was nice. They had something of a mix between a camp and hamlet set up around the mine, and some of the Miners' families lived with them. While I recovered, I had four proud Dwarven homemakers forcing all manner of food on me as thanks for helping their spouses. Have you ever had homemade Dwarvish cooking, Natalie?”

She shook her head no and tried to stifle a laugh at the nostalgic look on Cole’s face. “It’s fantastic stuff. Hearty, filling, with all manner of spices.” As they walked, Cole continued to describe the meals he’d eaten among the Dwarfs with a level of detail and animation Natalie had not seen in the man. It seemed to her that the Paladin of Death was something of a gourmand.

Eventually, Cole trailed off, and Natalie asked. “Is this what it’s like for you? You come to a place, fight, usually get injured in the process. Then have a meal or two and leave?”

Cole was silent for a moment. “Yes, that summarizes it fairly well actually.”

Natalie thought about what her father had said to her days before, about having a life outside of Glockmire. To escape the trap, she had been born into and never noticed. She wondered if Cole had been born into a similar situation and this path he walked was his escape. Or was this the trap? Was he stuck doing something he felt obligated to do until it eventually killed him? Natalie debated breaching the subject when a horrid smell reached her nose. She doubled over and gagged as the odor of rot and filth assaulted her senses.

Coughing at the smell, Natalie gasped, “What in the Infinite Hells is that?” Cole didn’t respond at first, moving closer to her, grabbing her cloak, and pulling it up towards her face. She understood what he was trying to do and quickly covered her mouth and nose with the cloth.

Cole seemed unbothered by the smell as he talked. “That is the Vryko-Ghouls; we are getting close now.”