As the afternoon waned into evening, the rather humble silhouette of Omois faded into the horizon, becoming nothing more than a distant memory. The frenzied escape from the castle grounds had gradually given way to a steady, tranquil pace. Julien, Gregorio, and the count now traversed the lush countryside, passing through charming vineyards, past rolling fields, and quaint villages nestled along the picturesque banks of the Marne. The summer sun cast a warm, golden glow over the landscape, its light gentle and soothing: a stark contrast to the turmoil Julien had left behind.
Riding side by side in a comfortable silence, the rhythmic clip-clop of their horses' hooves provided a soothing backdrop. The calm of the journey provided Julien with the chance to collect his thoughts: As the initial shock of the day's events began to settle, however, curiosity bubbled to the surface. Turning slightly in his saddle to face Gregorio, Julien saw his chance to seek answers to at least some of the questions he had.
"Gregorio," Julien began, his voice steady but laden with the weight of his inquiries, "there are things I need to understand..." His words trailed off for a moment as he formulated his thoughts, "you spoke of our journey taking us beyond the Pyrenees, but to what exact destination are we bound?" His eyes searched Gregorio's for any flicker of revelation.
"Our path leads to a quaint place known as Ripollés, nestled just beyond the mountain's embrace," Gregorio replied. His eyes, reflecting a myriad of untold stories, shifted back to the road stretched before them after a brief glance at Julien, "with the rhythm we maintain, the gates of Ripollés shall greet us in just under a month's time."
As they rode, Julien's thoughts meandered back to the days before the unholy Ebles' Crusade: the war that changed his life forever. He recalled how the vast host had traversed a similar distance in just 25 days, an impressive feat given the sheer number of souls marching. "It's been long since I last journeyed beyond my familiar Omois," Julien mused aloud, the sun's warmth caressing his face, a gentle reminder of the world beyond his immediate burdens.
Indeed, it had been a long time. His last significant journey had taken him to the dense, forests of the Ardennes, on the mission to meet Hedwig. The memory of her now frequently invaded his thoughts, unbidden yet persistent. Hedwig, with her intricate ties to the web of events unfolding around him, was intimately linked to the current turmoil. As he contemplated her role in all this, a mix of emotions swirled within him - concern, nostalgia, perhaps even a tinge of regret for not checking on her before leaving… He just hoped she was fine.
Shaking off those feelings, Julien redirected his attention to the immediate journey and the enigmatic figure riding beside him. Eager for answers, he presented another topic, his voice permeated with curiosity. "So," he began, casting an oblique glance at Gregorio, "when might you begin to unravel the mysteries you've hinted at? I'm in dire need of understanding what is unfolding around us."
Gregorio, seemingly unfazed by Julien's question and gaze, responded with a calmness that was almost frustrating. "What do you want to know?" he inquired, his tone unperturbed. His eyes remained focused on the path ahead, as if each step they took was a carefully calculated move in a larger, unseen plan.
Overwhelmed by the multitude of questions swirling in his mind, Julien found himself momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, he voiced the question that lingered most prominently in his thoughts: "How can Count Robert still walk among the living?"
"Through your hagic energy," Gregorio stated matter-of-factly, his tone void of elaboration.
The brevity and bluntness of Gregorio's reply left Julien momentarily stunned. “And what exactly is this ‘hagic energy’?” he pressed, a trace of impatience creeping into his voice.
Gregorio's answer was, once again, succinct and cryptic: "It is the essence inherent in all Enochians. In Ripollés, you shall delve into its depths," he replied, his voice still steady and unyielding.
Feeling a mounting frustration with the old man's elusive answers, Julien's patience began to fray: "And what precisely am I to learn in Ripollés?" he asked, his tone now tinged with a clear edge of irritation.
“Your new occupation,” Gregorio dryly replied.
“And that would be...?” Julien probed further.
“Slaying Nephilim,” came Gregorio's short reply, as if stating a simple fact.
Julien, taken aback by the gravity of the statement, pressed on, “And what, pray tell, is a Nephilim?”
“The progenitors of all Eliouds,” Gregorio answered, his gaze still fixed on the path ahead.
Unsatisfied, Julien continued his line of questioning, “And these Eliouds are...?”
“Beings tainted by iric energy,” Gregorio responded.
This quick exchange left Julien grappling with more questions than before. He realized that each response from Gregorio only spawned further inquiries, much like severing the heads of the Hydra. With a sense of futility washing over him, Julien understood that the answers he sought would not come so easily.
The journey unfolded with a monotonous tranquility, marked more by the steady rhythm of hooves than by conversation. Julien and Gregorio, bound by a shared destination yet divided by unspoken secrets, found little need for words; Their exchanges, sparse and utilitarian, revolved around the mundane necessities of travel.
As days passed by, they traversed the picturesque landscape with the Aisne River flowing alongside it, until it eventually veered away, leaving them to the quietude of the road. As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Gregorio signaled a halt. They were about to reach Clermont, their first and only significant stop, according to the elder man himself.
Soon, the town emerged before them: Clermont, nestled right before the Massif Central, presented a striking contrast to the open fields they had traversed. The town was a tapestry of history, its streets and buildings echoing the grandeur of Roman architecture. Everywhere Julien looked, breathtaking remnants of a bygone era stood in silent testament to their enduring legacy. The prospect of a pause in their relentless journey, in a town so rich in history, was more than welcome.
Gregorio turned towards Julien, his eyes already drawn to a majestic structure in the distance: "Clermont boasts a magnificent Romanesque cathedral," he remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. The cathedral's tower, visible from their vantage point, pierced the skyline, "we shall find our rest there for the night," Gregorio declared, his gaze lingering on the distant spire.
"Consider this your initial lesson, if you may," Gregorio suggested, his voice contemplative, "churches often serve as sanctuaries for those engaged in our unique line of work. They recognize the importance and the necessity of what we do."
"Thank you," Julien laconically responded, more out of sheer confusion than anything else; He still barely knew ‘what they did’.
Gregorio continued, his tone still informative, "Bishoprics, such as Clermont, are particularly hospitable. Monasteries too." He glanced at Julien, ensuring his words were registering. "In your future endeavors, remember to seek refuge in these places.”
Approaching the church, Gregorio navigated the hallowed halls with the assuredness of one well-acquainted with the place. His steps were purposeful, each turn and corridor navigated with an air of familiarity. As they encountered denizens of the church, questions were met with Gregorio's dry and succinct response: “To meet with Bishop Étienne.” His tone conveyed a sense of implicit authority.
The journey through the church culminated in a small and modest chamber: Seated in the heart of this book-lined sanctuary was an elderly man, immersed in a tome. The soft rustle of pages was the only sound in the room, creating an aura of studious tranquility.
"Good evening, Étienne," Gregorio greeted, his voice had a discernible undernote of long-standing camaraderie, "it's a pleasure to see you once again."
Upon hearing Gregorio's voice, Bishop Étienne rose from his chair, his stature impressive and commanding: He towered over Julien, matching the count in height; His hair, a mane of unruly snow-white locks, contrasted sharply with his meticulously clean-shaven face. His eyes, bright and alert, sparkled with recognition as he regarded Gregorio.
"Long time no see, Gregorio!" Étienne exclaimed, his stern demeanor melting into a warm smile. "It is indeed rare to find you roaming the lands of Francia. What brings you here?" His question was posed with natural curiosity.
Gregorio returned Bishop Étienne's warm smile with one of his own. He subtly inclined his head towards Julien, drawing the bishop's attention to him: "This young man hails from Omois," Gregorio explained, "he is bound for Iberia, under my guidance, for it was I who awakened him."
Julien acknowledged the bishop with a respectful nod. "It's an honor to meet you," he said with a tinge of shyness.
Bishop Étienne's attention shifted to the count, his eyes widening slightly in a mix of surprise and curiosity. "And who might this tall companion be?" he inquired, his gaze lingering on the count's imposing figure.
Gregorio's laughter broke the brief silence: "Ah, this is Julien's aethyr at work," he explained with a wry smile. "For seven years, Julien has masterfully manipulated this corpse, orchestrating its every move. He's managed to convince an entire court that the count was still among the living."
Bishop Étienne's expression was of astonishment as he absorbed this information. The notion of Julien animating a corpse with such skill and for so long was truly fascinating; It spoke volumes of Julien's abilities. "Indeed, Gregorio, you always do have quite an eye for the extraordinary," he remarked, heartily chuckling. Motioning towards the door, he ushered the group to follow: "Come, let us partake in a meal. And tell me, do you enjoy wine? I have a particularly fine vintage that I think you might appreciate." His voice was infused with a warmth and kindness that transformed the chamber from a place of intrigue to one of welcome.
The evening unfolded with a pleasant ease that Julien hadn't felt since the beginning of their journey: They dined with no constraints, and the bishop's wine proving to be as delightful as promised. The conversation was light yet engaging, a stark contrast to the cryptic exchanges of the past days. For a very brief moment, Julien felt the weight of his journey lift, replaced by the simple joy of a good meal and warm company. The bishop's generosity even extended beyond food and drink, offering them a night's shelter protected from the elements.
However, the relief was short-lived. As dawn broke, Gregorio roused Julien with urgency. After replenishing their supplies and expressing their gratitude to Bishop Étienne, they resumed their journey. A brief but comforting memory, no doubts.
The journey through the Massif Central brought them across quite the grim scene - two lifeless bodies, their presence marked by the early signs of decay. The sight struck a chord deep within Julien, eliciting an emotion that was difficult to name, a blend of sorrow, unease, and an inexplicable sense of connection.
This unexpected encounter seemed to pause the world around Julien, drawing his attention relentlessly to the still forms before him; He found himself momentarily lost in thought.
Gregorio, observing Julien's intense focus on the corpses, broke the silence with a solemn tone. "Don't let your thoughts linger on the dead, young man," he advised, his voice carrying a weight that hinted at deeper, unspoken knowledge. "Our path allows little room for distractions. The dead have their own journey, separate from ours."
“Is he wondering if I wanted to give them a proper funeral?” Julien wondered, “or check their bodies for valuables?” The truth is that his hesitation was not coming from a place of solemnity nor greed: The sight of the deceased men acted as a stark reminder of his own actions, a mirror reflecting a part of himself he struggled to confront.
With a heavy heart, Julien broke the silence that had fallen between them. "I took the lives of two men in Omois," he confessed to Gregorio, his voice laden with a torment that had been festering unspoken. "It wasn't in honorable combat, but through deception, a coward's path." His words trailed off as he recalled the familiarity of their faces, men he had known for years, now lost to his hands in such a deceitful manner.
"I am sure you had your reasons to do so," he stated, his voice devoid of judgment yet not offering comfort either, his gaze steadfastly fixed on the path before them.
Julien's voice had a mixture of fear and remorse as he pondered the morality of his actions: "Perhaps I had my reasons," he conceded, "yet it doesn't erase the fact that I ended two lives through deception. How would a man of the cloth, like Bishop Étienne, view such acts? What judgment would any person of faith pass on me?"
Gregorio's reply came with the usual calm, his tone suggesting a broader perspective: "Who are they to judge? Especially without understanding the full picture?" He questioned.
The weight of Gregorio's words settled heavily on Julien, exacerbating the unease that afflicted him. Memories of his past as a squire, the battles he'd fought, and the war that changed everything flashed through his mind; "Will my path now be one of constant killing?" he wondered aloud, the question laced with a growing sense of dread.
"Most certainly," Gregorio responded, his tone remarkably even.
Julien's anxiety deepened as he grappled with this reality: "But how does such a path gain the blessing of the clergy? How do they find righteousness in our actions?" he asked, his voice now betraying his inner turmoil.
Gregorio's gaze met Julien's, piercing and resolute: "Your targets, Julien, are aberrations, entities outside the realm of God's Creation," he explained, his words deliberate and solemn. "We eliminate creatures that were never meant to exist. That is where our purpose aligns with the beliefs of the faithful."
Turning his attention back to the road, Gregorio left Julien to ponder this new piece of information. It was, after all, probably the most straightforward answer he had received from the elder; The first head of the Hydra he had severed and managed to effectively cauterize.
Confused and contemplative, Julien simply resigned himself to silence, letting his gaze fall upon the ever-unfolding road ahead. The landscape gradually shifted as they journeyed on, the uneventful days blurring into one another, each marked only by the steady rhythm of their travel.
They journeyed through the diverse terrains of Southern France, where the air grew warmer and the scenery more vibrant with each passing mile. The crossing of the Pyrenees was a journey in itself, with the majestic mountains presenting a formidable yet awe-inspiring barrier.
As they descended from the mountainous terrain, the anticipation of reaching Ripollés grew: The town, once just a name shrouded in mystery, was now within their grasp, a tangible destination that promised answers, but also more questions. Julien, his initial confusion giving way to a cautious curiosity, prepared himself for what lay ahead: Ripollés awaited them just around the corner.
