Faith's days within the Iron Order continued with their usual rhythm. Training sessions in the crisp morning air, strategic discussions in the afternoons, and quiet nights spent reflecting on the stars above. Yet, even amidst the camaraderie of her fellow warriors, the encounter with Lady Alameda following her defeat of the Siren lingered in her thoughts like an unshakable shadow.
Manfred, now both a mentor and a friend to Faith, noticed her distracted demeanor after one particularly fierce sparring session. He approached her after, concern etched on his face.
"Faith, you seem troubled," he said, his voice low. "Is there something on your mind?"
She hesitated for a moment before recounting her encounter with Lady Alameda. Manfred listened in silence; his brow furrowed with concern.
"I am not surprised she tried to bed you, to be perfectly honest, not based on her reputation," said Manfred, "But you should be vigilant in the future. Lady Alameda is not to be underestimated. Her influence reaches far, and her ambitions are boundless."
As the weeks passed, the winds of change swept through the rolling hills and meadows, carrying whispers of unrest from a village that had once been plagued by monsters. Faith, had a history with this village. She vividly remembered the night when she had faced a fearsome werewolf to earn her spot among the Iron Order. That encounter had taught Faith many lessons. The first, was to never underestimate one's opponent. The second, unfortunately, was that she was a woman, and that the instincts of monsters and men were not at all dissimilar.
One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, a weary messenger arrived at the Iron Order's western contingent. The messenger, breathless and frantic, delivered news of the village's turmoil. Rumors spread like wildfire, strange happenings in the dead of night, visitors to the village gone missing and never heard from again, and paganistic rituals.
Faith felt as though she had a connection to that village, a bond she felt she had with the people she had saved from the werewolf's terror, and a debt to Vanessa and Tiffany for keeping her rape at the hand of the werewolf a secret. The memories of her previous encounter fueled her resolve, and she knew she had to investigate these disturbances.
Approaching Manfred, Faith spoke with a sense of urgency. "Manfred, I need to go to Sablewood village. I've been there before. I've fought the monsters that haunted them. I can help them now, too."
Manfred regarded Faith with a mix of concern and respect. He knew her capabilities well, her bravery and unwavering commitment to protecting the vulnerable. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded, his expression grave yet determined.
"You have my trust, Faith," he said, his voice steady. "Go to the village, investigate these rumors. But this is a recon mission Faith, simply find out what is happening and then return and report. Take whatever resources you need and leave at first light."
Faith's gratitude shone in her eyes as she thanked Manfred. With a renewed sense of purpose, she prepared for her journey. Gathering her weapons and supplies, she set out at the crack of dawn, the rising sun casting a golden glow on the path ahead.
THE VILLAGE
Only a few days' ride from the western contingent, Faith's journey was uneventful and on the night of the third day she crested the final hill and ventured closer to the village, now cast in total darkness. As Faith rode through the dirt streets of Sablewood, the once-familiar surroundings seemed shrouded in an ominous aura. The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the deserted alleys. A chill wind rustled the leaves, adding an eerie ambiance to the otherwise silent night.
Her steps led her to the Prickly Pear Inn, its windows aglow with a warm, inviting light. With a sense of weariness settling in her bones, Faith pushed the door open and stepped inside. The inn was cozy, its wooden interior lit by the flickering light of candles. The air was thick with the aroma of mead and hearth-baked bread.
As Faith approached the bar, her eyes widened in surprise. There, sitting on a stool, was Vanessa. Memories of their past flooded back, a mix of camaraderie and shared hardships.
Vanessa beckoned Faith over immediately, a warm smile quickly concealing an unusual look of surprise. "Faith, it's been a while. How have you been?" Vanessa inquired warmly.
"Surviving, as always," Faith replied as the two girls exchanged a warm embrace, laughing softly at the twists of fate that had brought them together again.
Faith sat across from the girl that she had not so long ago saved from the clutches of the werewolf. Vanessa, she thought, would surely provide some insight into the rumours and Faith was certain she could count on her discretion.
The inn was filled with the warm hum of conversation and the clinking of tankards as Faith settled down next to Vanessa. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on their faces, adding an air of mystery to the room. Faith, her eyes sharp with curiosity, leaned in, her voice low.
"Vanessa, I've been hearing unsettling rumors about missing villagers and strange paganistic rituals. Do you know anything about it?" asked Faith, her eyes searching Vanessa's face.
Vanessa met Faith's gaze, her expression carefully neutral. "Oh, you know how rumors go in small villages," she replied, her voice smooth as silk. "People tend to exaggerate, especially in times of fear. I wouldn't put too much stock in such tales."
Faith's brow furrowed, suspicion creeping into her voice. "But these rumors feel different. The villagers here seem off. There's an air of dread that I can't ignore."
Vanessa offered a dismissive smile, her eyes flickering away for a moment to a man who entered and took up position in the corner of the inn. "Perhaps they're simply on edge because of recent banditry. The world can be a frightening place, after all."
Faith's skepticism lingered, her instincts telling her that Vanessa was hiding something. "Vanessa, we've been through much, you and I. I can sense when something is amiss. Are you sure there's nothing you're not telling me?"