Cardinal of Envy Quest

>>1441108
I always like these 7 sins settings, was messing around with something similar in my head! Hope this goes well OP

>Domain if sloth
Maybe they don't expect our upcoming betryal because we're from the sloth

>Make an example of him

>>1441108
>the domain of Pride.
Clearly we're meant for more than a simple guard

>Make an example of him

>the domain of Pride. [+10 to mind. -10 to combat.]
In this scenario, we'll probably want to be more careful about what we're doing, because these seem to be powerful beings we're dealing with.

>Make an example of him.
Might as well demonstrate our cruelty

>>1441108
>the domain of Sloth. [+25 to power. -10 to all.]
>Make an example of him.

>>1441108
>the domain of Sloth. [+25 to power. -10 to all.]
>Make an example of him.

You hail from the domain of Sloth, your first sixteen years spent under the pathetic, passive rule that permeates those lands. How scornful of Sloth you’ve become, for on every corner of every street would be life wasting away, a fog of acquiescence slowly destroying of all who were unfortunate enough to be there. At the first sign of clarity, you fled. You would rather see the chains that tie you down than to not know of it at all. It drove you then, and it drives you now, your longing to move. To move closer to Envy, so close you can practically smell her wretched stench. For a Cardinal to uphold her position for so long is revolting. A testament to the slothfulness of those underneath her.

A Cardinal does not live for this long without strength in mind, and her mind is a piercing fortress. It is why when you meet her eyes at this moment, you can say for absolute certainty, even if her head would look wonderful rolling by her feet, you’ll never draw your sword at her.

“Make an example of him.”

For there are other men who will. The belief you are alone in this endeavor is not one you put faith in to, certainly the opposite. If Wrath will not have her head, then perhaps a lucky assassin would. Time erodes all, for no man is perfect.

The ends of Envy’s lips rise almost imperceptibly. “Feeling daring?” She raises a hand. “Guards, bring him to Cruor. Have him carved.”

The door to the hall opens, and three men walk in. The messenger pleads, but it’s futile. Poor soul, tossed to the lord of the dungeon like scraps to a starved dog. If he’s lucky, he’ll be dead within the day. Oh, what you would give to carve up Envy yourself.

Envy speaks to the commander. “Beatrice, how are preperations?”

“Your Majesty. It is all proceeding smoothly.”

“The masses grow tired, don’t they? It’s the twentieth year, after all.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall I start having the insurgents quelled?”

“Not yet. The timing must be perfect, else the hydra will simply grow another head. That’ll be all for now; you’re dismissed.”

Beatrice lightly lowers her head, and departs.

>>1441748
Envy uncrosses her legs, as she speaks to you. “Acius, I’ll be in my chambers. Make sure I’ll not be disturbed for the time being.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

You leave the throne room, out past the hallway, and at the curved stairs. Two more guards are there, but none of your status. They salute, and you match them.

You say, “Let none through. I have matters I need to attend to.”

“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”

How true the Cardinal’s words were: if you cut off the head of a hydra, two more will take its place. Thusly, you must strike at its body. It is a shame she can only see the heads, then, for her eyes and ears can only carry her so far. She is no Pride, therefore she must rely on those who submit to her. It is ill-fated that the person in constant close proximity is you, for you are the hydra, and your heads’...

>the masses, those on the streets with empty pockets.
>the envious, the ones who hunger for power.
>the outside, agents of enemy domains.
>the holy, follows of a false light.

And your matters...

>to meet with your “allies.”
>to speak with Beatrice.
>to prepare for the solstice.

I'll be updating one or twice every day. This'll be the last one for today.

>>1441751
>>the masses, those on the streets with empty pockets.
>to speak with Beatrice

>>1441751
>the envious, the ones who hunger for power.
>to speak with Beatrice.

>>1441751
>the holy, follows of a false light.
>to speak with Beatrice.

>>1441934
Seconded

>>1441751
>the holy, follows of a false light.
>to meet with your “allies.”

>>1441751
>the envious, the ones who hunger for power
>to speak with Beatrice

The holy men, so pitiful. They place their faith in the heavens, choosing to serve as vessels for a purpose untold. You use them still, for they are given what normal men cannot have: magic. To lower oneself for strength, and not true strength even, you can only pity them. Lead them forth, you will, and in the final moment you will pull the rug from underneath their feet.

You walk down the hallways, your light armor noisily making your presence known. The deep crimson carpets, the unfathomably high arches of the ceilings, the halls lit by an undying fire, ways the palace can be encapsulated. A stronghold of knowledge and wealth. Both of which, of course, are exchanged constantly, willingly or not. Such is the domain of Envy.

The sound of steel clashing brings you to the sparring hall, where you find Beatrice. A woman with short blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, only a few years younger than you from what you can discern. The hall is significantly more spacious than many rooms of the palace, its flooring smooth and walls stocked with weapons. Mock enemies are abundant, as seen with a few dozen men practicing their aim with crossbows. Their plate armor is sparse and light, the cloth visible underneath pitch black, proof they are the army’s elite.

>>1444399
“Beatrice.”

“Acius,” she answers, her attention drawn away. She gives a few instructions before leaving her men alone. Her expression is unfathomable as always, much like yours, except you have not seen her sneer once, even when facing the lowest of creatures. There is something to that you can admire, you suppose. “What brings you here?”

“You’re mobilizing your men.”

“Yes. Were you not aware?”

“Not of something that involves this amount of strength, no.”

“That’s strange.” Beatrice crosses her arms. Her gauntlets lightly grind against her cuirass. “If Her Majesty has not told you, then I’m afraid I cannot divulge much. Perhaps it means little to you.”

“I doubt it.”

When she sees you have not moved at all, she speaks, “If you’re so inclined, why do you not speak with Her Majesty yourself?”

“She is not to be bothered.”

“Excuses, Acius. What are you truly here for?”

“I fear the preparations this year will not be enough. The insurgents are uneased, and I doubt they will stay idle for much longer.”

“They are powerless. Perhaps your worries should be elsewhere. On Wrath, for an example. They will not like what will become for their messenger.”

A simple seed.

“That is true, but that will have to be a topic for another day,” you shift, “Have you forgotten an announcement has yet to be made? The solstice will be in a week.”

“One for the citizens?”

“That is the one.”

“It seems I have. If you are inquiring, then...”

“I would prefer to do the honours this year.”

“Curious.”

“It’s been too long,” you reply, “Is that too selfish?”

Selfish to publicly broadcast excellent points of attack? Oh yes, very much so.

“And here I was, looking so forward to it,” she smiles. Beatrice walks away to a sword rack, picking up a sabre. She puts it in her hands, studying it and its weight. “How about a spar? I don’t remember the last time we’ve done so.”

>Agree to it.
>You would rather not.

>Plan to raise to the Cardinal’s attention that you were uninformed of seemingly important matters.
>Refrain from doing so.

>>1444408
>Agree to it.

>Plan to raise to the Cardinal’s attention that you were uninformed of seemingly important matters.

>Agree to it.
>Plan to raise to the Cardinal’s attention that you were uninformed of seemingly important matters.

>>1444408
>Agree to it.
>Plan to raise to the Cardinal’s attention that you were uninformed of seemingly important matters.

“It has been a while,” you say, making a mental note to bring up your inquiries with the Cardinal. From the racks, you take a basket-hilted broadsword. The edges are dulled.

“I hope you haven’t grown too complacent,” she replies, fitting her helmet.

You do the same. “I’m in no position for that.”

“With a broadsword, I mean,” she clarifies. Your left leg swings back, and you bring your sword forward. It clacks as it meets her sabre in the middle.

“Your hopes will most likely be shattered, then.” A second passes, and you step forward, thrusting at her chest. Beatrice leans back and steps back, her arm raising and redirecting the end of your sword upward. Her sabre grinds as the motion continues, her hand twisting so the blade swings from your outside to inside. You jump back, having barely avoided the tip. Both of your swords meet at the center again, and Beatrice front leg rises as she sweeps forward. You back up again, only to realize she hasn’t advanced. You stop yourself, and the swordswoman steps in just as you’re caught off guard. She cuts from her inside to your torso, and you point your broadsword downward to parry. They clash, and the blow knocks her sabre back into an arc that’s redirected around toward your head. Turning your sword now would be too slow. Desperate, you bring your hand upward, knocking her attack away with the basket-hilt. However, she drags down, clipping against your gauntlet.

Beatrice says nothing as she distances from you again. A small gathering of soldiers have formed the spectators to this spar.

Perhaps it would’ve been a wiser choice to pick up something you were more comfortable with. Not that you would’ve had much better odds against her, regardless.

Roll for combat.

1d100, best of three.
Modifiers: -10 (Sloth aspect), -3 (Unfamiliar weapon)
DC: 60/70/80

>You can suggest ideas for your favored melee weapon of choice, barring fists.

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>1445767
I personally like the Gladius, even if it is a bit outdated. That, or a nice spear

Rolled 94 + 13 (1d100 + 13)

>>1445767
Longsword

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>1445767
Seconding the longsword.

81; Great Success.

Odds are all you have, and luck is the true factor that decides which swordsman walks out of a fight. Despite what one may believe, there are no absolutes in a duel, barring the scenario where you might be against a toddler wielding a crude fork. Beatrice is not a toddler, and she is not wielding a crude fork. She lays upon you a series of thrusts and slashes that causes you to pace backwards with every passing second.

It is on the third minute that you spot it. She lunges for shoulder, and you lean back, your broadsword striking at her arm in retaliation. Her attack stops short in anticipation, parrying your attack and following it with a riposte. You’ve already seen it coming. The way the commander leans forth, how she bends her front leg when she’s feinting, her quirks. Your head tilts away as her sabre drives into the air where it once was while your steel flies forth in the same moment. In the last moment, you pull back, your attack only lightly tapping against the center of her forehead.

The cleanest blow in the entire fight, even as you two continue, although you were in mostly in the defensive. After what feels like an eternity and a mutual concession, Beatrice says, “It seems my hopes remain intact after all.”

“Remind me to refuse next time lest I be out of a job.”

She takes off her helmet and smiles. “Fear not, I’m content with my position. I should remind my men to practice, not idly watch others.” A bead of sweat trails down from the side of her head.

You’re no different. “It should be time for me to get going. Farewell, Beatrice.”

“May we spar again sometime, Acius.”

>>1450404
When you leave the hall, you wonder where you had left your longsword. Although the uninformed passerby might assume with its painfully detailed pommel and overall wornness that it had quite the sentimental value to you, it’s weight and some minute attributes is what you’ve grown accustomed to, such as the ricasso that has formed from you thrusting the length of the blade into the guts of countless men with both hands.

A member of the guard half-runs up to you, catching your attention. “Her Majesty seeks your attention, Sir,” he relays to you. You thank him for his service, and move to meet the Cardinal. Envy, you find, is in her chambers, awaiting you. The room is well lit by an open balcony and rather large ornate windows, sunlight pouring in and casting shadows of the iron frames onto the red carpets and silken bed sheets. The Cardinal herself is in the balcony, which oversees the Endless Sea.

“Your Majesty,” you say, “You have called for me?”

“Acius.” Envy pivots on her right foot to face you. ”Tell me, what you do believe lies in the future of this domain?”

“I can’t say I can come up with an absolute answer.”

“You are free to speak your mind.”

Your silence lingers for a moment longer before you speak. “If I may. The citizens’ unease grows. The current situation is simply unsustainable.” A quiet lunacy grows every year. It is simply an unavoidable effect of the blessing that the Cardinal wields. A deformation upon the world, not unlike gravity with a celestial body and its moons. Productivity suffers for it, and the domain of Envy as a result has little to offer. “Every solstice is more dangerous than the last, and if I may ask, why have I not been informed of the mobilization of the elite force? The decision appears... especially dangerous.”

“Fret not, for it is none of your concern.”

“Your safety is my concern. It is unwise to lower the number of men in the event of a large-scale attack.”

In reality, these numbers matter little to the holy men. They will assuredly slip by, meaning the royal guards would be the only concern.

“Acius, if all we do is fear, then we will achieve nothing. Tell me, why am I ordering such a thing? If you are correct, I will tell you more.”

Her goal is...
>?

And your highest priority for your goal is...
>Informing and preparing the holy men.
>Weakening the strength of the royal guard.
>Focusing on a creating a diversion to start it off.

>Her goal is...
Probably bait. Feigning weakness and lowering her defenses to encourage an overt attack.

>Focusing on a creating a diversion to start it off.

>>1450405
>Her goal is...
She has sensed threats
>Weakening the strength of the royal guard.

>>1450562
This

“Bait for whoever is watching. You feign weakness to encourage an overt attack,” you answer. A canary flies into the room.

Envy thoughtfully pauses. “Quite the conundrum, is it not? There is no way to move this number of men with complete discretion. Yet, they must know I understand this. In the end, I’m simply giving them a chance to make their move, and with their impatience, they cannot refuse the offer. When they arrive, they will assuredly have my head.”

“...Pardon?”

“Acius, you have been my side since the beginning. Your loyalty has been unparalleled, to say the least.” You did not have an option at the start. Although you were there when she had seized the life of the previous Cardinal, the chance of claiming it yourself and not being slaughtered for it was remarkably slim. Even throughout the years, the power vacuum that would emerge still remains a threat. “Tell me, have you pieced together the true nature of this blessing? As is with all Cardinals, mine is unlike any of the blessed that had ruled before I.”

The songbird peers around, only to fly onto Envy’s open hand.

“You can claim life itself.”

In an instant, the canary shrivels up into a plume of grey, dropping onto its side without warning. “Is it not saddening? What use would such a power have when it leaves nothing behind? One could only have an empire of death and decay. Fortunately, I had discovered over time another facet hidden away.” Carefully, she cusps the bird with her other hand. A brief moment elapses. The Cardinal opens her palms again, and the canary’s color is restored. It chirps a song quietly. “I can give life.”

“Impossible, what is lost may never return!” you say, taking a step back, “Not even the heavens have this kind of power.”

“Why, Acius, you are correct in that regard; it is not what it seems. The canary’s soul is lost forever, but in its place now is a fragment of mine.”

“...Then you may never truly die, even if your body is to fail you,” you say, your pitch of your voice dropping. “And on the day of the attack, when they find you...”

“They would have believed to have slain the Cardinal of Envy, yes, and when I return to the castle, they will learn they have walked into their deaths.”

“Then what of my duties?”

“Acius, your objective is twofold. Convince them that this is the only ‘me’, and preserve the halls so I don’t return to a pile of rubble. Simple enough, is it not?”

You reflect. “How would I recognize it is Your Majesty?”

“That, you will know in due time,” she answers.

“I understand. I will not fail you,” you reply. A second of silence lingers in the air. “If that is all, I must attend to my duties.”

“Acius, before you go,” Envy stops you, “...Would you like a fragment of my soul?” You freeze. “A small blessing, if you will.”

The hairs on your neck stand on end.

>Accept.
>Reject.
>Write-in.

>>1453959
>Accept.

>>1453959
>Write-in.
Cut her down and burn her right now. Before she can spread her soul to other humans. And don't accept her soul, that's how she will know everything we know

>>1453959
>Accept.

With the orange sky bleeding into the room, time seems to drag onto an eternity. Your eyes fall into hers, your hands itching. The trench knife on your lower back seems to call you, too. If you cut her down now, then you can assuredly stop her from scattering her soul so far that she becomes ungraspable. Yet, if you strike now, you doubt you have the strength to win. Three and a half days until the solstice, and her strength only begins to wane. And yet, if she has already split her soul into another vessel already, her halved strength might mean you can win. But after so long, it is not something you can gamble. You’ve waited too long to lose it all now.

“Your Majesty, you say, kneeling before her. “If you would allow.”

You close your eyes as Envy reaches forth, two fingers lightly touching your head. You are confident she cannot read your thoughts or control your body... for now.

Fragment of Envy obtained.
You can save any failed roll once per an extended period of time.

Leaving with great haste, you make your way to your chambers, tightly shutting the door behind you and bolting it. You quickly begin penning the announcement, the time left running out quickly as ever. A hidden code, hidden into every line at seemingly arbitrary intervals. Together they chain the date, time, and a certain arrangement you plan to bring into life. A diversion to draw the attention away, carried out by the lined pockets of wealthy merchants whose greed-filled eyes only desire seats in the council that you promised them. But, as if someone like them would ever be allowed access to the treasury.

You briefly glance at the windowsill, the missing sight of a lightborn carrier pigeon bringing your attention back to your work. The holy men used to communicate using them, but on an unfortunate day, a curious guard had downed one. Luckily, the message was caught only moments after it was sent and the fowl was incinerated before anything could be learned. You can only wish you can relay messages to them with much less difficulty, especially after what Cardinal had revealed to you mere moments ago. She will be departing and riding with Beatrice to an occupied city on the edge of the domain, a city that the legion of Wrath seems to infest. Not to drive them out, but to wipe the landscape clean of their sight. But sparing one, of course, to deliver back the dead messenger, and in pieces, no less. But at this rate, planning on your end can only truly proceed on the day of the solstice.

>>1458636
In no time at all, the moon had risen and set once more, and you begin the day by strapping your longsword to your belt. The familiar weight puts you at ease, a comfort you gladly take in when you stand in the center of the city square in front of the castle, a scroll in your hands. You are at the edge of a large fountain, its height from a statue of an angel reaching outwards. Water falls from its outstretched hands, filling the air with sounds of its splashing. A sizeable crowd has formed: your audience. Four other guards stand beside you, prepared in the event you are attacked.

“Good day, citizens of this domain,” you bellow, “As you all may know, the summer solstice begins in less than three days.” Your spiel flows forth, an unimaginative and tiresome process in which you explain that any revolts would be stomped out with great force. Yes, yes, every man, woman, and child is recommended to remain within their homes, and that no one is allowed past the castle gates, or even close to it for that matter. Your eyes slowly make their way down your written words, careful not to misread a line. In no time at all, you reach the bottom. “...That will be all. Are there any inquiries?” Your gaze shift from head to head, attempting to discern the average passerby with one of your “allies.”

A man in rags raises his voice, stumbling forth. “Go choke on your own jewels, ya bastards.” The guard to the immediate right of you rolls his eyes. “Who in the heavens gives a damn about the bitch? Leave us alone, fuck’s sake.”

The swordsman to your left draws his blade. “Watch your tongue, commoner.”

You’re not so keen on drawing blood of your own people. “Is there a problem?” you speak.

“Oh, ‘course I got a problem! While you’re sittin all nice and pretty in there, these lowlives are walkin around threatening everyone! Why don’t you all do something for once?” he spits.

You’ve heard something about this, but only in vague accounts. A young band of extortionists, moving through the night carefully. Resources hasn’t been very free as of late, so not many hands were free to deal with it.

>Shut the man up.
>Ignore him and leave.
>Look into this yourself.
>Send your men to investigate.
>Write-in.

>>1458638
>Look into this yourself.

>>1458638
>Make an example of the man

>>1458638
>Look into this yourself.

You’ll look into this matter yourself. You have your men disperse the crowd, some onlookers lingering for longer than they should, as if they wanted to say their piece too. But none of them do. You go up to the man in rags eyeing him up and down. Unarmed and unarmored. A faint glimmer of light catches your eye, but there is nothing to be found when you give it a second glance.

“Tell me about these men who accosted you.”

“Men they’re not, more young than anything,” he answers, “They left my house in ruins, come have a look!”

The sky tells that you have some time to do as you please. You make a mental note to find whoever on patrol at the time of the incident and raise a personal conversation yourself. What good are your men if they can’t follow simple orders? You follow the man in rags, accompanied with two other guards whether you like it or not.

As you continue, the roadway becomes less tidy and straight, the erosion of time made clear. Your guide walks off the path, and you do too. The houses grow more and more well maintained, pieces of wood and stone broken off and sloppily slammed back together. Without warning, the man stops.

“Here we are.”

Your eyes widen, and you reach for your sword. A bright flash appears behind you, and you unsheathe your longsword to find your two guards unconscious on the floor. A man in a brown hood has an arm outstretched, a faint glow disappearing as he reveals his face.

“Lynchus,” you say, “And here I thought I had a pest problem. I would appreciate it if you warned me next time.”

The holy man’s face is long and pallid, the grey hairs on his scalp threatening to fall out any moment. His sullen eyes close and open slowly before he answers. “Good day, guardsman. Your pest problem is very much real, but it is the least of our concerns. Please, let’s move to somewhere safer. Your men will be kept safe.”

>>1463555
Past shifting stones and a hidden hatch, you find yourself underground, tunnels bored beneath the city where the holy men hide. The ceilings are low and the walls are crushing. The irony is not lost on them. The room you are in gives you some relief, providing some semblance of space. You sit at a small wooden table lit by a candle, the priest Lynchus on the other side and some of his lackeys standing guard on the side.

You speak, “This is extraordinarily risky.”

“I would not act if it were not for your message. We need to discuss what to do with... the Cardinal.”

“She plans to embark on a journey I cannot stop, and I doubt you can either. Our only chance of success lies in the time when she comes back. We can handle her forces if they are split into two.”

“Regarding the new problem...”

You explain to him Envy’s power, and he solemnly listens, giving no indication that your words are reaching his ears in the first place.

Lynchus slowly tells you, “Finding her soul is no problem for us. On the day of the solstice, we can divine her location with ease. After that, however, I cannot say.”

Lucky of you to have them on your side. “Then I will leave it in your hands. Besides that, how are the arrangements regarding the surprise?”

“The merchants are unwilling. The cost required to cart in a shadeling far exceeds their faith in you.”

Your brow furrows. A beast capable of bleeding through walls, disappearing into one shadow and appearing into another. It’s a fearsome predator, especially when it is frenzied. Subduing it in the first place is such a great difficulty that you can’t fault them for being hesitant in the first place.

>Reply to their hesitation with force.
>Have your distraction downgraded, if that is what they wish.
>Forgo this altogether, the merchants are more hassle than they are worth.
>Write-in.

>>1463567
>Reply to their hesitation with force
Sounds like something too important to miss

>>1463567
>Have your distraction downgraded, if that is what they wish.

If anything goes wrong we can just blame it on them

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Force = 1
What they want = 2

“Fine. Have them bring the best they’re willing to do, then. If they go a little too low, I recommend convincing them otherwise with a hint of force.”

“That may be wise. Clean up would be... unpleasant with a shadeling, to say.” Lynchus rubs the bridge of his nose. “That would mean we are now sacrificing strength or subtlety. You said the commander would be leaving with the Cardinal, did you not?”

“Correct. I doubt they can collect themselves to handle something that can simply barrel down the walls.”

“That kind of strength would hardly be a downgrade. Don’t get your hopes too high.”

“Surprise me,” you tell him. You stand up, cracking your back by pushing your shoulder blades together. “Are we done here?” Any longer would be suspicious.

“Yes, yes, let me guide you out.”

He walks in front of you, hunched over as he leads the way. His hands trail along the wall as he traverses the tunnels.

You speak. “About my men.”

“They should recall nothing, provided you give them a way to fill in the blanks.”

“And?”

“I have your answer waiting for you.” The pathway opens wider and Lynchus steps to the side, revealing the man from before, the one in the rags. “Fau will take you the rest of the way.” The holy man speaks to the one in rags. “Brother, if you will.”

He nods, and you trail behind. Fau says to you, his head half turned, “I got a boy, one of the little bastards running around, from the troupe of troublemakers.”

“You want me to pin it on him.”

“He’s guilty of anything you want, not my concern.” You find yourself mostly satisfied when you reach the outside, where you first saw the holy men. A young man is unconscious, bound tightly with ropes. Your men are but a few paces away, equally awake but free to move. Fau grabs the heads of each and every one of them, chanting in a hushed tone. Reacting, they glow a soft light briefly. “They’ll be up in a minute. Till we meet again, Guardsman.” His stare drags on for more than you find comfortable before he disappears.

As if right on cue, the two men accompanying you groan as they awaken. One lagging behind the other, they both groggily open their eyes only to go into a panic when they realize what had happened.

You speak, “Be at rest, there’s no danger.”

“Sir, what happened?!”
“Captain, who is that?”

In the edge of your vision, the boy visibly starts squirming.

>Let him go.
>Pin it on him and be done with it.
>You want information out of him.
>Write-in.

>>1467377
>You want information out of him.

Then
>Pin it on him and be done with it.

>>1467377
>Pin it on him and be done with it.

“He caught you two by surprise,” you say, “One of the troublemakers.”

The boy squirms. “Lemme go! I didn’t do nothing wrong, it’s me or them out here!”

“You heard him. Take the rat to Cruor.”

One of the guards steps up, “But, Captain, he’s but a boy!”

“Then tell him to be gentle. I don’t have time to pry information from his teeth.”

The other speaks, “Even a cell would be better—“

“Would you rather do it yourself?”

They exchange glances. “I... We...”

“I’ll leave it at your discretion, then.”

You leave them behind. The sounds of their shuffling follow a moment later, the boy dragging behind.

The late morning and afternoon is spent uneasily at the Cardinal’s side. She acts as if nothing has happened, and neither does Beatrice the one time you see her again. And although you’ve been trying to discern what has changed within you since Envy has given you a fragment of your soul, all your efforts seem fruitless. Perhaps its effects are subtle than you thought, or maybe it had nothing at all. The Cardinal hasn’t changed either, but you wonder if you would have noticed if she had enacted on her plan. The thought of acting as her vessels makes you shudder. Would you become her, or would you simply merge consciousnesses?

On this night, the commander, along with a few dozen men, depart. Envy does not leave her chambers as you watch from a window the black figures and their horses gallop into the night. You give Beatrice your best wishes. You wonder when the time comes, will she be on your side? Wishful thinking.

The two men has also decided to throw the boy into a cell to stay, the crime not nearly important to be brought to a justice. You can wait until after the solstice, you suppose.

>>1470235
In the morning after, you begin your rounds to ensure your men are working. You can’t afford to have them misplaced and disobeying orders, after all, for it would be quite a risk. Security is extraordinarily high today, only rivaled by what will happen tomorrow. These rounds also give you the benefit of knowing where all your men are posted, and will be posted. Although you would like to minimize casualties, you also need them to be concentrated enough for any distraction to be effective. What good is becoming Cardinal if all your men are dead and there is no one to defend it? The holy men? You suppose that could be an option, if not immensely dangerous. That would also fall under the unlikely scenario that they would not attempt to claim the blessing for themselves.

And so, you do your rounds, and today, someone is missing. Reusen is his name. When you asked the men that should be with him on his shift, they redirect you to a position elsewhere. When you arrived there, you would be told he had just left, sent off once more. On the fourth go, you became unable to hide your annoyance. On the sixth try, you find that he has joined with one of the patrols. Unwilling to continue this ridiculous farce, you resign to your post, determined to confront the man upon his return.

He does not return for lunch.

You spend your evening...
>preparing for the solstice.
>guarding the Cardinal.
>training alone.
>watching over the city.

>>1470239
>preparing for the solstice.

>>1470239
>preparing for the solstice.

You spend your evening preparing for the solstice, making sure everything is in order, in their supposed places. No stone left unturned. Most of it is mindless tedium, walking back and forth as the sight of the throne room sealed shut. Everything is in place.

At midnight, right on cue, a huge rumble arises from the direction of the main entryway. Muffled shouting and screaming reach you with great ease. There’s no riot like last year, no climax of an intensifying dissatisfaction. The floor beneath you shakes, leaving you to wonder what just is there. The two guards by your side shift their wait, uneased. You tell them to stay there as you leave them making long, quick strides.

You watch as armed men rush in the general direction, walking alongside and past you. A chance reveals itself eventually, allowing you to slip away, heading toward the dungeons. Your metal boots noisily clank on the marbled floor as you move. The hallways are filled with more disorder than usual, but only of echoes of happenings of a distance away. In no time, you reach the doorway, the entrance frame black and decayed while the door itself is of rusting, blackened steel. The three guards that stand beside there give you a look of confusion.

“Sir, what is happening?” one of them asks you.

“Your assistance is required at the door. Two of you, go!” you order them, “I need to see if any other locations are compromised.”

“Yes, Sir!” Their hesitation fleeting, two of them quickly leave as you put your hand on the handle of the door. The remaining guard steps back as you pull it open.

He inquires, “Sir, I’ve yet to hear anything more than the usual disturbance down there.”

“Thank you,” you say, drawing your longsword. Your left foot steps back while your right holds your door open. You swivel around, gripping the blade above the crossguard with one hand as you thrust your sword at his neck. It pierces his chainmail without great effort, and as fast as you can, you grab him by his cuirass and throw him inside, swinging the door shut behind you. The dead guard collapses to a heap as he tumbles down the stairs, his armor causing a painful amount of noise. A pool of blood slowly begins to form. Quickly, you wipe your steel clean on him and proceed.

The dungeon is too low for your comfort. The paved stone floor and narrow archways is suffocating. Even the torches that light the corridors seem to be suffocating. You only make it to the actual main entryway to the cells before seeing another guard.

“Captain...? Is that you?”

>>1472071
Your right foot is the one in front as you approach him in stance. In three steps, he stumbles backs and attempts to pull his sword out of his scabbard. You lunge before he can do so, striking at the gap between leg and hip. The guard cries out, and you swing your sword with both hands, one on the pommel. The end of your blade slams into his helmet, denting it and knocking him into the ground with concussive force. Footsteps grows louder, approaching you. The sound of metal noisily shuffling gives away their identity as your men.

The holy men should have found a way in by now, in one of the cell blocks, the one closest to their base of operations. However, if they are late, then you would have found yourself cornered and alone. Another pathway is to the prisoners they plan to free in the first place. You also have the option trying to take on the guards yourself. There are about two, perhaps three of them?

Roll for success.

1d100, best of three.
Modifiers: -10 (Sloth Aspect), +3 (Familiar Weapon)
DC: ???

>To the arranged meeting position.
>Free the prisoners.
>Fight them yourself.
>Hide and deceive.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>1472077
>Hide and deceive.