Chapter 20: The Old Geezer
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A wizened grey haired priest watched the sunset with a heavy heart. It was the end of another glorious day. The night arrived far too swiftly, as always, and once again cast a tainted pall across his beautiful city. 

"It's not quite fair, Lord Skalgnos. We need the warmth of your light in the darkness most of all. For it is in the darkness that the harbingers of filth and rot lurk and prey on the faithful." The man muttered to himself and his god.

The worn man soaked in the last golden rays of sunlight as they disappeared beyond the horizon. He felt refreshed. Yet, suddenly, cold at the absence of the Skyfire. He missed it dearly and prayed for it's swift return.

"Lord Skalgnos, you'll return once again to quell the evil in the hearts of men, won't you? The light will shine once again and cleanse the land of this darkness. Yes, surely, the Skyfire will rise once again in the morning."

He had, even as a young man, been plagued and befuddled with the horror of his dreams. They were a gift. A prophecy. A vision. And, they guided him and his holy flock for numerous bountiful years, circumventing innumerable disasters and tribulations. Yet, as he aged, they became worse and ever developed unfaltering terrors that would twist the minds of lesser men.

He, and he alone, could withstand the trial set before him by his god. He alone could lead his church from the brink of the abyss. He alone could save them all. He alone knew…

The world was doomed. 

"Will I be able to save us this time, Lord Skalgnos? Will my flame continue to burn for your crusade? Or, will I finally be laid to rest amongst the eternal embers-"

A loud knock echoed through his chamber from the sealed door to his study.

He let out an angry and frustrated grunt. "I've told those fools, time and time again, I need to be left alone to commune with our Lord. The flame must be kindled, or it'll wither and die."

He wrestled his facial features from wrath back into benevolence and piety. He called out.

"Come in, my child."

A middle aged acolyte entered into the study. "My apologies for the disturbance, your Grace. We have reason to believe that a matter of great importance has been reported."

"I understand…" The wise priest continued patiently.

"A new acolyte, Bob, has reported-"

"Feh, Bob", the old priest groaned. "Well, what does he want this time? More alms to distribute amongst the festering blight to our fair city? Or, perhaps some food? So, that the undisciplined and languid sluggards can fill their bellies on the bounty of the faithful, laborious men that have toiled for their bread."

The old man scoffed. "I think not. We've had this discussion many times. And, I have no desire to speak of it any further. You can tell this Bob, that we may have summoned him here, but that does not grant him special privileges to question my authority and grace."

He continued,  "After all, Skalgnos has appointed me as his humble servant, to question me is to question our god."

The acolyte nodded eagerly and attentively. "Yes, your Grace. I will inform him immediately. However…"

"What? What is it? What could he possibly want now?", The priest lost his temper and snapped. 

"He insists that he is to see you. He has refused to say more. Yet, he claims that it is a matter of utmost urgency."

"Yes, I'm sure it is…" He rolled his eyes.

"We thought much the same, your Grace. Except... he had the faint mark of vile taint upon his hands."

"A taint, you say?", The holy priest turned toward the acolyte with his full attention for the first time. "What sort of… taint?"

"Necrosis, your Grace."

"Necromancy", the priest hissed and recoiled in disgust. "The most vile of all magicks."

He walked toward the acolyte and the exit. "You did well to bring this to my attention, Acolyte. You will be rewarded for your service and for your faith. But, first, you will bring me to Bob."

***

Bob straightened and shook off the surrounding acolytes from his shoulders as the Archpriest approached them. 

They all bowed and kneeled before him and waited for him to address them. 

"Rise, my children. You have done well. You may attend to your duties." The old priest dismissed the other acolytes and addressed Bob. "Acolyte Bob, attend to me."

Bob quickly rose and addressed the Archpriest in acknowledgement

 "Your Grace."

He fell behind and walked a few paces apart from the Archpriest.

They entered a private room and closed the door behind them.

"Alright, Bob. You've got my attention. I've heard you have something rather urgent to report."

"Yes, your Grace." Bob stared into the eyes of the Archpriest and shuffled his feet nervously. "But, first, I must have your word that those discussed within my report will remain unharmed."

The Archpriest raised his eyebrow in shock, "I beg your pardon?"

"And, furthermore, that the church will do their utmost to solve their affliction."

The Archpriest sputtered and fumed. "I will do no such thing!" 

He ranted and raved as he continued. "I will not acquiesce to any demands made of me; do I make myself clear? I will not give you my word for a situation that has not been made clear to me. And, I will not promise the resources of the church to what will doubtlessly once again turn out to be wastrels."

"The poor and the hungry are not wastrels! We should be-"

"Enough!" The Archpriest raised a finger to Bob's face in warning. "Do not think to lecture me on what should or should not be done with my Church."

"Why, your Grace, surely you must mean the Church of Skalgnos."

The old man narrowed his eyes and glared daggers at the young acolyte, "Make. Your. Report. Now."

Bob sighed. "A woman is dying, she is accompanied by her two acquaintances. The nature of the sickness that consumes her is… well, it falls to the responsibility of the Church to deal with it."

The Archpriest let out an unsettling grin. "Oh? Is the sickness that deadly?"

"Well… in a way, but-"

"Is it contagious?"

"No, I can firmly say that-"

"Then, it must truly be something that will threaten the purity of the church."

"Y-your grace?" Bob answered a bit confused.

The Archpriest cackled triumphantly. "Pah. You fool, did you really think that you could fool the prophet of Skalgnos?"

"No, your Grace, I-"

"And, did you truly believe that I hadn't divined the sordid details of your report before you had even come to me? That I wouldn't have figured it out?"

The Archpriest waggled a finger. "You've found a fledgling necromancer. An injured one perhaps? You hurt yourself helping them, maybe? Hmm? You reek of their death and decay."

The Archpriest grasped Bob's arms tightly with a surprising speed. A blinding holy light of fire shone around them. Bob could feel a small tongue of flame lick and worm it's way into his flesh. It burned into his veins. It spread through his body. Even though he had felt a similar pain before, he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. Until finally, the holy embers burnt out the scattered remnants of necrotic mana embedded within Bob. 

Bob paled. Yet, he stood his ground defiantly, gasping for air. "Your Grace... T-they need our help."

"Yes, Yes. All necromancers do. They will be purified. The threat will pass. You did well, my child. You may also sleep well knowing that you've finally saved the people you've been so worried about." The Archpriest continued with an unfaltering grin. He had won. He loved it when he won.

Bob's eyesight blurred and he fell into the stream of unconsciousness. 

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