Chapter 24: The Corrupt Priestess, Dacia Irmel.
Dacia Irmel.
Dacia Irmel.
"Is that so? That’s truly a tragic story."
I chimed in while focusing on grilling my portion of horse meat. Though I couldn’t taste it, I preferred it slightly undercooked and chewy over charred and dry.
Dacia, who was tending to her own meat, slowly shifted her golden eyes toward me.
"Could you at least pretend to care when making interjections? So I might foolishly believe you’re not completely disinterested?"
I brought the sizzling meat to my mouth and took a bite. Hot and juicy. Flavorless, as always. As I sliced the horse meat with my dagger, Dacia asked,
"Isn’t that undercooked?"
"I prefer tenderness, Lady Dacia. Even if slightly rare."
Carmen spoke without looking up from his grilling.
"Shouldn’t you finish your story? Weren’t you about to explain how your brother clearly intends to sell you off to the Dragon Kingdom through this marriage proposal?"
Dacia glared at Carmen before responding.
"Correct. But must you both be so utterly bored by my tale?"
I swallowed another piece of meat.
"We listened attentively the first time. But this being your third retelling, shouldn’t you understand our waning focus?"
Lady Dacia’s grievance was simple: her brother, viewing her as a threat to his claim as Irmel family head, sought to exile her using the Dragon Kingdom’s recent marriage proposal as pretext.
I studied her while eating.
Her silver hair flowed like silk, eyes twin pools of molten gold. Despite our offers to grill for her, she’d stubbornly charred her meat black. Now she stared helplessly at the smoking ruin.
"Take these."
I exchanged my properly cooked pieces for her burnt offering, trimming the carbonized edges.
'Murder!'
I mentally stifled my mother’s urge to eat the scorched bits. Dacia accepted the plate meekly.
"I’ll... enjoy this."
"You’ll improve next time. Provided you focus more on grilling than storytelling."
The lady shot me a sidelong glance before nibbling the meat I’d prepared.
A mage noble.
Though clearly coveting the Irmel headship, her magical aptitude made this impossible—unless she murdered her brother outright.
Nobles despised mages. More precisely, they feared mages being born into their houses.
Two reasons prevailed: first, mages’ notorious difficulty in learning etiquette and tendency toward disastrous self-importance when granted noble status. Second, the ancient superstition forbidding mages from holding power, dating back to the Warped Mages Era predating the Old Empire.
Given typical mage temperaments, this prejudice wasn’t unfounded. While some mages had become lords, Dacia’s ambition—one of only four High Lord positions in the Northern Kingdom—guaranteed fiercer resistance.
Dacia wiped her mouth and tentatively asked:
"Might I propose something?"
Her expected request came:
"Escort me to Beatus, the Irmel territory."
But the reward surprised me:
"Do this, and I’ll give you gold equal to your body weight."
A High Lord’s house indeed. The offer tempted.
'Murder!!!'
My mother’s voice urged immediate weight gain. I glanced at Carmen. Though tempted, his quest took priority—his mother awaited westward, while Beatus lay southwest. Choosing west meant abandoning the gold.
Carmen clutched his relic necklace, then smiled.
"Very well. Having involved ourselves, we’ll see it through. Baltas’ honor demands no less."
Dacia smiled, biting into her meat.
"Good."
We trudged through ceaseless snow. Five days since Dacia joined us, one ambush already thwarted during my watch. The attackers now nourished my divinity.
[Divinity: 1741]
Carmen squinted ahead.
"The map suggests a village approaches!"
Dacia shook snow from her shoulders.
"Truth? A real bath awaits?!"
I led through the blizzard, icy flakes stinging my face.
"Lights ahead!"
We cheered, plunging into the storm. The sizable village boasted an inn.
Conversations died as we entered. My travel pack bristled with a dozen swords from fallen attackers. Dacia brushed snow off her robes.
"Doesn’t that weight bother you?"
"It’s manageable."
"You’re inhumanly strong."
Carmen returned from securing rooms.
"Three at the corridor’s end. Baths prepared. Let’s wash then dine."
Later, soaked in warmth, we regrouped. Dacia slumped in her black robe.
"Snow trekking exhausts more than expected."
Carmen shrugged.
"Your stamina surprises me, Lady. Honestly, I expected you to collapse miles back."
No exaggeration—she outpaced most men. Dacia met my gaze.
"Childhood training. Though Priest Marnak carried most weight. His strength..."
Carmen nodded.
"Marnak’s a beast."
I smiled. "It’s nothing."
Supper arrived: sausages, bread, and ale. While others savored flavors, I inhaled aromas.
A shrill cry cut through tavern noise:
"Kya! Stop!"
A drunk mercenary groped a waitress.
"Heheh! Juicy little peach!"
We kept eating. The innkeeper would handle it.
"Let me tend other guests!"
"Stay! That pretty rump belongs here!"
"Father!"
The innkeeper emerged, separating them politely:
"We’re no brothel. I’ll summon courtesans if needed."
Drunks reddened.
"Fuck! I just wanted company!"
"Let’s see this golden ass!"
Carmen tensed.
"Should we intervene?"
My seat stood empty.
"Too late. Let’s assist."
Dacia moved like a striking hawk. Her fist shattered a jaw, sending its owner crashing into walls. She pistol-whipped another with her sheathed sword, then punched a third.
"Fucking bitch!"
A blade swung at her back. I grabbed the wielder’s head and smashed it through floorboards.
Dacia sheathed her weapon.
"Thanks."
Carmen arrived, chiding:
"Consult us before charging in."
Dacia mumbled,
"Seeing injustice... I can’t help it."
She shyly confessed not to anger issues, but "justice dysregulation syndrome."
Troubling. Deeply troubling.
The innkeeper bowed deeply.
"Our gratitude."
I forced a smile.
"We help those in need."
"Marnek, catch!" Carmen tossed a pilfered purse. I handed it over.
"For repairs."
The gruff innkeeper beamed.
"I’ll summon the militia. No loose ends."
Knocks echoed in darkness.
"Who...?"
"Lady. It’s me."
She opened—I silenced her spellcasting, froststeel blade at her throat.
"Mmph?!"
"Quiet. Don’t wake Carmen."
Her golden eyes widened. Slowly, she nodded.
"Wise. We’re fugitives. Intervening without consultation endangers us. Not your actions—your recklessness. Understood?"
Rapid blinks.
"You claimed injustice ignites you. Next time, restrain it."
The blade pressed closer.
"Repeat this, and I’ll sever your tendons before selling you to pursuers. Tragic, no?"
She stiffened. I sheathed the sword.
"I trust you’ll behave. Nod if understood."
A slow nod.
"Pleasant dreams."
'Murder!'
"Your concern is valid, Mother," I whispered, patting her hand. "But this needed addressing."
Now we’d see if Dacia’s "justice syndrome" overrode survival instinct.
'Murder!'
Mother bet she couldn’t resist rushing out again. I chuckled.
"I’d wager the same. Our bet’s void.”
