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month chat rogue 2 2 3
'A pitiful man.' The one who remains standing wipes down her rapier. 'He misunderstood where his desire to attack me came from. Until the moment of his death, he still saw himself as a Victorian soldier, waiting for the war to end so he could go back to his hometown.'
'When did he...'
'During the last battle, or maybe even before that. He probably doesn't remember himself. Maybe he accidentally bit off some of the enemy's flesh in the middle of a desperate melee, thus planting the seeds of metamorphosis.' She glances over at the surviving Ægir. 'Everyone on the battlefield wants desperately to survive, which isn't too different from the Sea Terrors.'
The eyes beneath her hood burn brightly. Without a doubt, she must be an Inquisitor. The Ægir instinctively recoils and spits a few times, fearing that the soldier's lingering cells might slip into his mouth.
The two continue walking, one in front, one in back. The stench in the cave grows stronger and stronger.
'So many Sea Terror carcasses... Did you slay them all yourself?'
'I couldn't allow them to climb onto the cliff.'
'You... How long have you been here, fighting by yourself?'
'Not long enough.' She shakes her head. 'I once... knew a captain. He called his ship the true Iberia. For his Iberia, he held out for sixty years.'
'Sixty years...'
'We probably don't have that much time left. But as long as there are people still on the coastline, Iberia will not go down that easily.' She speaks softly. 'And I won't go down that easily either.'
They come to a narrow mountain crevice. There are no more Sea Terrors here, and the air outside is faintly palpable.
'You'll have to take the road below by yourself. Take my lantern with you.'
'What about you then?'
'Me? You still haven't figured it out yet? If you're that stupid, you must be pretty lucky to still be alive.' Her voice even holds a slight trace of laughter. 'I once met another Ægir like you. Who knows, the two of you might just survive until the very end.'
Though the two clearly remain still, a shadow along the stone wall suddenly moves. Something slender slips out from beneath her cloak, and squirms a few times before shrinking back.'Shadow'
Only then does the Ægir understand why this person never carried her own lantern along the way.
It turns out, the soldier guessed correctly. But if even an Ægir can lift the lantern of an Inquisitor, does the question of identity really matter anymore?
'This lantern is the symbol of the Inquisition, given light by the will of an Inquisitor. And now it is yours, Ægir. Now, more than ever, your path... Iberia's path, is in need of light.'
The Ægir holds on tight to the Inquisitor's lantern.
'What about you? Once I reach a safe place, I'll send people back to help...' The Ægir then thinks of the hand hidden beneath the cloak, realizing that these words have probably long since lost their meaning to the person in front of him.
'At least tell me your name.'
'I am Irene, an Iberian.'
As the former Inquisitor finishes speaking, she walks towards the dark tide with her head held high.
