Part 2

In conjunction with Seidenburgh, in the shadow of a singular mountain which when viewed from a certain angle has the distinct appearance of a rabbit’s nose, the city of Thormwick found its streets swamped with movement. It was of utmost importance that night that the Thormwick Harvest Festival would go down swimmingly as the pivot point of the calendar year for the entire commandery of Marester.
So even before the festivities began, the city was alive with folks sweeping the streets, raising standards and rehearsing their performance. Not a single soul was afforded respite. Even the children were chasing the hens and pigs down the streets to drag them back indoors for the evening. Outside the walls, a small tent city had been raised by peddlers and merchants drawn from even outside Meruvia, for just one chance to show off their exotic wares for such a distinguished crowd.

One of the tents distinguished itself by its size and splendor, seeming more like a palace of cloth than a makeshift shelter. That was the abode of none other than Nigel Sempronius, landkomtur of the Bailiwick of Dirstfeldt. Before he took his oath, he belonged to a family of the esteemed house of Chaldwenn. Which crest was that of a serpent.
Although the tabernacle housed his retinue of Knight-Brothers and Knight-Sisters, he himself was decidedly absent. The good landkomtur had found his way out of his screened off area inside the tent, into a shady pavilion at the outskirts of the tent city. It belonged to no one in particular, but was used as a mix between temporary storage and light cesspit for the entire community of travellers.

He met up with a traveller. The true kind of weary traveller, whose skin was adorned by the plagues and steel of all the places he had passed through. Its coarseness suited the stiffness of his limbs. Men like these don’t have a nationality or a language that belongs to them. Nor do they have an age, for all signs of maturity had been obscured by the wears of harsher climes.

“Now, my dear, Efraim… “ Said the landkomtur, “I must congratulate you. Getting your act in joint with the bughermeister’s speech... That is no minor feat by any means. You have done well indeed. You and that gun of yours.”
Landkomtur Sempronius pointed with his open hand towards the cannon suspended in wheels in the tent city plaza, easily the size of a whale. The speckles of bronze not yet overtaken by the patina shimmered in the late afternoon sun.
“A real beauty, isn't she?” Efraim said in a hissing voice, followed by the briefest cackle, “A marvel of engineering, that Old Rakel. Yeah… but no. It's not like we can actually fire something into that big a crowd. It'll be nothing but a big blast. Really, we owe it to you, good sir Sempronius. For pulling strings for us to get us this gig.”
“Anything for you, Efraim. There is just one little thing...”

Nigel took out an item wrapped around a paper parcel, handing it off to the disfigured man. When Efraim opened it up, it took a short while of staring the content down in confusion, before his eyes spanned open in realization. The furrows surrounding his mouth expanded in an excited grin.
“This… Is this…?” He played around with the fiery gem in his hand.
“That is a lilim’s pube. Encased in amber. The vast amounts of demonic energy is contained by the congealed resin. For now. But all it would take is one firm knock, say, from the blast of a cannon…”
“Sir, with all due respect… My Old Rakel…”
“Will be completely fine.” Nigel asserted, “Magical energy has no effect on dead matter. Only the good burghermeister will be affected.”

Efraim held the stone aloft at eye level to see the hair as the sunrays shimmered off the amber, “For a holy knight to have such an item… And to use it… You must really hate this woman.”
“I have no hate for the righteous, Efraim. This is business. We need a decisive move to break the deadlock between the sovereignty of the Knights and the autonomy of the cities. Linda Darrak. The burghermeister of Thormwick. She is a leading figure of their movement. Something of a folk-hero in these parts. She stems from a notorious lineage. Strong against corruptive magic. But even she cannot resist the demonic energy of a lilim. If she was to be exposed as a monster before everyone, then distrust would be sown. Dissent would grow. Meanwhile, us Knights take upon ourselves the honour of slaying the monster and protecting the citizens. We use the crisis to consolidate power over the local governments, and our sovereignty has been secured for another decade or three.”

“My, you really have thought of everything, my good sir. Everything, except for how this benefits me and my Old Rakel.”
With a smirk, Nigel took out a purse of coins and tossed it at the ground by Efraim’s feet. He dives after it like a tiger pouncing on her prey.
Nigel laughed, “That’s what I like about your type. People who run on emotions… They’re unstable. Unpredictable. It’s the people who run on gold…. You always know when you can count on them.”
“Yes, yes… You can count on me, sir. Me and Old Rakel will have the job done.”
Nigel smirked, leaving the pavilion and returning to his tent.

“Sir Landkomtur! Would sir Landkomtur like a tankard of ale?”
The maid in a green and white apron dress kept following the komtur with the large wooden tray with foaming flagons, even when he wouldn’t stop.
Nigel raised his hand, “No. I do not drink.”

The maid had to take the rejection and stop, but didn’t look upset in the slightest. In fact, she was elated. Of course the maid was in fact Elvira, and she had heard the entire conversation from the start. She was on her own. No way was she going to wait for the rest of the gang to show up. Not when all of Meruvia was at stake. And clearly she was fine on her own. Next stop was the cannon. She made sure to arrive there before the creepy traveller, and found herself staring into the deep black maws of its muzzle.
“Here we go…”

“See, it’s not that we can’t change the outcome under any circumstances.” Benedict told Claus as they wandered through the streets, “I mean, we may well find out, sooner or later, that if we would’ve gone out and done something, we absolutely could’ve changed how things played out! But that’s an illusion! We see that only after things have played out, when the haze of the future has been lifted. While in that haze, we either are involved, or we ain’t. Either way, it’s going to be what leads to the outcome. Because the outcome, that’s already been determined! We don’t have control over the outcome! We don’t get control over the situation by inserting ourselves into it! That’s just going to tie ourselves in to the chain of causalty inexorably tied to the inevitable result! So all of a sudden, we’re to blame!”
“Ben, you’ve had too much to drink,” Claus noted, “You always get talkative when you’ve drunk too much. How about you slow down a bit?”
“Heh. Yeah, when you’re right you’re right, buddy.”
Benedict opened his suitcase, and poured the content of the tankard into it.
“...I don’t think that was a good idea.”
“Hey, if I wake up tomorrow and the worst thing to worry about is some beer-soaked undies, I’d consider that a resounding success!” Benedict said, and shouted..

Claus didn’t answer. He couldn’t help but worry. Elvira was out there, alone to fend for herself. He looked around himself. Although the sun had long since set, the whole city was alight from the numerous paper lanterns strung together with the bunting over the promenade. The open market place was bustling with people from all over Meruvia and even beyond, gathering around the stalls to check out the wares on display. They sold fresh apples, turnips, onion and cheese, of course, but there were also almonds, artichoke, dried figs and even mace ( the spice, not the weapon ).
One adventurer in particular had a sword from Zipangu prominently featured at his booth.

“They call it a katana,” He announced proudly, “Only their bravest and most venerated warriors are allowed to wield it. During the forging process, the iron is folded over itself over and over. That is the secret behind its durability in spite of its light weight.”
The crowd gawked at the sword, uttering impressed whispers between themselves.
The katana was surrounded by various fruits and distinctly non-Zipanguese looking flowers, in order to grant what the stall owner considered the greatest possible aesthetic appeal.

Claus and Benedict simply walked past the spectacle, towards the center plaza. There, a stage had been prepared, upon which a colossal cannon was planted. A busty red-haired woman in finely cut clothes stepped to greet the crowd. A wave of silence swept over the mass of people as she approached.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” She started, “When I look upon this sea of hopeful souls before me…”
The speech faded out for Claus. He caught something in the muzzle of the cannon. A piece of cloth caught on the edge. The same pattern as from Elvira’s mantle.
“...Elvira.” He whispered to himself.

While the speech went on, Efraim prepared the priming charge and inspected the gun. While doing so, he sneakily slipped the amber into the muzzle and stepped back.
The stone slid down the pipe and was buried in the powder.

Everything was going according to plan for Elvira. Almost. She had waited concealed under her mantle, until… Yes. They slipped the pube into the cannon. Just like they said. All she had to do was to dig it out from the powder and climb out of the cannon before it went boom. And then the prophecy could bite her ass.
Of course, then she would stand before a large audience only a step away from high-level city official with a highly illegal, highly dangerous and extremely rare artefact. But all she had to do was calmly explain about the prophecy, and they would have to take her word before that of the high-ranking Meruvean Knight. She was glad that she ditched the only fortune teller left in the country to go along with this plan.
Where was the stone? Dammit! She could hear the Burghermeister’s speech faintly from the other side. There was still time, but that was no place to dawdle.

“...For us all. Thank you.” The audience erupted in roarious applause. Linda took the burning stick from Efraim, and ignited the fuse. It was long, and burned slowly. But constantly.
“She’s in there!” Claus yelled out, but with no reaction from the crowd. He looked down at Benedict, “They must have stuffed her there to get rid of her! Ben, you need to do something!”
Benedict looked about himself confused, “Me? What? Well… Uh? Ah, who cares? Wind magic! Go!”
A strong gale swept over the plaza. People were made to hold on to their hats.

Benedict probably imagined the wind would be strong enough to blow out the fuse, but sadly it was of the kind that could resist winds of any strength. It did make Efraim react, however. What if the wind swept the corrupted fog all over the crowd? Would every lady in the audience be monsterized?
That wasn’t gonna make the Landkomtur pleased.

She found it. Finally. Once the stone of amber was in her hands, Elvira wasted no time climbing up the pipe.

Efraim decided to turn a wheel that raised the tilt of the gun, aiming it more upwards. That way, the smoke would reach the burghermeister, but would sail past the crowd.

Suddenly, Elvira found herself sliding back into bottom of the cannon. They changed the aim? What were they aiming at with a blank shot anyhow? Just a moment ago it was difficult to shimmy up the pipe, but doable if she wanted it enough. It just became impossible. She had ****. She started banging on the bronze.
“Hey!!! Let me out!!!”

Efraim could hear something from within. His breath got stuck in his throat. Someone had climbed inside. But if they stopped at that point, they would almost certainly be exposed. That poor soul would unfortunately have to be sacrificed.
“Did you say something?” Linda whispered back to the wanderer.
“No… No, just… Eh… A bit of a cough.” He coughed out, attempting to drown out the banging.

“That’s it! I cannot stand back and watch anymore!” Claus announced.
Having left all weapons by the gate, he lunged for the katana.
“Hey! Get that back!” The adventurer yelled, but Claus did not heed. He had a girlfriend to rescue. With the katana in hand, he rushed to the stage.
The town guards surrounding the stage poured over him, pointing their glaives at the intruder.
"Now, Sir! Stand down, please! Drop your weapon at... at..."

The guard lost himself in his own words when he saw the warrior advanced, absolutely no intention to stop in his charge. Far from the fluid yet snappy movements the katana was intended for, Claus flung the blade around angrily through the air as if swatting away a fly. No technique. No forethought. No hesitation.
He was ****, especially with that small a guard on his sword. But it didn't look that way. He looked like a walking talking meatgrinder, heading straight at them.
They retreated away, unsure on where to even aim. But they did so unevenly. The slowest to fall back was the one Claus honed in on. He shot his hand out to the pole's head, and yanked it towards himself. A kick to the guard's stomach sent him crashing into his comrade.
He peered around. Some guards stepped forward, finally ready to engage. Claus threw the glaive he had grabbed, like a throwing spear. They jumped away, out of formation. As it rattled on the ground, Claus barreled through them. He leapt onto the stage. Blades rained down from every direction, but he simply swatted them away with deft parries in an evasive dance towards the cannon. And the burghermeister.

“You idiot!” Linda shouted as she stepped in his way with hands resting on her hips, “Step down now! You got any idea just how much omph this girl packs when...”
“THE WOMAN I LOVE IS INSIDE THERE!”
“What!? You sure…?”
“Out of my way!” He waved the blade, which made the burghermeister stumble back and fall off the stage.
Efraim screamed, leaping out of the way of the charging, lovestruck mercenary.

Elvira curled herself into a ball. Maybe if she could use her body as a shield, it would prevent the droplet from breaking.
Claus reached for the fuse, which was only a stubble at that point. He clenched his fist around it…

…
…
…
…
BOOM!

The whole plaza shook. Black smoke veiled the sky. Elvira, covered top to toe with ash, screamed as she was launched towards the sky. She soared through the air. The world spun around her, but she thought herself see half of Meruvia from that height.
The moment she went from flying to falling somehow rattled her innards more than the blast had done.
She dropped down. Fast. Plummeting towards the cobblestone below.
She couldn’t believe the next moment, she would be nothing but a splat on the streets.

SPLAT!

She broke the awning on the fruit stall.
Juices and gunk splashed every which way.
Her heart felt like it was trying to burst out of her chest the way it was pounding.
But she was alive.
Covered in icky pulp from melons and strawberries. Yelled at by a rabble of people, at least one of which was the old lady running the stall. But alive.

She opened her hand, not sure if she could hope for the best. But there it was. The amber stone. Still intact.
Her smile glowed like the sun. The disaster that was prophesied, which made everyone who knew about it flee the country… It had been thwarted.
She looked up at Claus on the stage. He couldn’t believe his eyes either. They welled with water as he walked towards her to the edge of the stage.

Elvira hadn't quite been able to hear him from beyond the cannon. She thought she heard him say something important.
Either way, if he didn’t, then it was definitely her turn.
“CLAUS!” She yelled from the bottom of her lungs, “I LOVE Y….”
But Claus had something else to say first:
"Uaah... Unggh..."
His eyes alight with pain and confusion, he peered behind him. At the guard, with the bloody spear. He turned around to face him, giving Elvira a clear view of the gaping wound in Claus's back.
"...No." She uttered.
The katana dropped to the ground with a metallic ring. Claus opened his mouth, possibly to scream. But no scream came out. Not the faintest noise. His knees trembled, and he fell off the stage in a limp heap on the streets.

The noise around Elvira dulled. It was as if time froze. That moment was etched into her retinas forever.
“No...”
Her voice quivered. She gritted her teeth, looking around at the angry confused people she had just saved with contempt.
She clenched her fist.

CRUNCH.
The amber. It had been destroyed. And the lilim’s power unleashed.
Elvira felt a warmth spread in her heart. In spite of the cruelty and unfairness of the situation, all she could do was laugh.

“Shit…” Benedict looked between the two of them. On one hand, his friend was bleeding out on the street. On the other, an impending disaster. Elvira was transforming. Normally, a human exposed to monster energy turns into a succubus, but some women have a proclivity to a certain species of mamono. In Elvira's case, he legs fused together. They grew, turning into a large serpentine tail armoured with green scales. Was she becoming a lamia? A snake woman? No. It was something far more terrifying.
The green draconian serpent rose on the winding coils resting on the street. Her loominig figure looked down at the humans with a grin. One that promisedt them everlasting destruction.
She had become a wurm. A flightless dragon that inexorably tears through the landscape like a snake.

Her laughter echoed through the streets as she barreled into the marketplace. Her naked body, as her clothes had been torn, flung itself into the houses before her. They levelled to the ground upon impact, without so much as a flinch from her. The rubble that came crashing down brushed off of her skin like a gentle drizzle. People screamed in a fit of panic. They ran away, terrified for their lives. But there were nowhere they could run. There was no shelter from the rampage of a woman scorned.

“Oh, no. Who could ever have seen this coming?” Benedict said, his voice brimming with sarcasm, “Oh, that’s right. The guy who can literally tell the future.”
He made his way through the crowd, to the bottom of the stage. There, the lifeless body of his friend lay in the pooling blood tainting the promenade. Benedict knelt down next to him, taking his cold hand. He felt him squeeze back, ever so lightly. More a tremble than a huge.
At least he was alive. Good. But who knew for how long.
He closed his fist around Claus's hand, and through the chaos, Benedict lowered his head, and prayed, "Hallowed be the name of the God of Gods, who carries the earth on her shoulder. Who adorns the firmament with the sun. Who allows the sun to be devoured by the maws of the night, letting her children wander blindly..."
Claus coughed. Blood escaped his mouth. His eyes blinked, still foggy, but looking up at the unforgetable face of his friend, “I’m... I'm sorry..." He whispered, almost hissed, in a raspy voice, All this... I dragged... dragged you into all this…”
“Speaking is for when you’re not dying, Claus,” Benedict said between the lines of his prayer. He could feel Claus's grip weaken even more. It was almost absurd, feeling the huge raw hand of the mercenary, who could brave any danger, falter into the strength of an infant.
Benedict squeezed even harder, as if making up for his lost grip, “Listen to me… I’ll be damned if I let you go out. Yeah, not now. Not like this. So you’re gonna stay with me, you hear? And you’ll do it for her.”

Claus peered back at the monster. His own beloved Elvira wreaked havoc at the people who cost her her love. They pelted her with arrows, but merely bounced off her skin like they were nothing. Her scales seemed impenetrable. She really was like an unstoppable ****.
“Th-the serpent awakens… The fury of... of the earth… Earth dragon… W-wurm… It all came to p-pass….” Claus whispered meekly.
"Yeah, that’s prophecies for you. Still, I bet that underneath that scaly armour, she’s the same old gal you fell for. Just waiting for you to sweep her off her feet. Cause you know what? You two are destined to be together. And you don’t need to be a psychic to see that. Now come on!”
His heartbeat was faint. His skin pale. But he wasn’t ready to pass on. Not just yet. Not before he had his lifetime together with his Elvira.
The divine energy of Benedict’s healing prayer coursed through Claus’s body. The wound closed. His body stabilized. Still weak, but he wasn’t going to the ever hereafter.

“Atta boy.” Benedict pulled Claus get back to his feet.
Elvira dove down into the city center. It didn't matter what the buildings were made of. Wood. Stone. Brick. All of it crushed underneath her heavy body. As the cloud of dust from the debris subsided, she could see him standing there in her shadow. The soothsayer. It was all his fault. How come he couldn’t keep all his destinies to himself?
She lunged for him, storming towards her target with reckless abandon.

“Wait…”
She stopped.
The one who got in the way…
“Claus…” She uttered meekly. Her eyes teared up, the bloodlust in her eyes already drained.
The town guards took aim with their crossbows. Each of them responsible for turning the festival into a world-ending cataclysm.
"Hold on everyone." Linda shouted to the town guards, "How about you all stand down for a second? And maybe back away."

“It’s been a party worthy of Hel here…" Claus said with a laugh, "But... I think it’s about time we go home.” Claus said, offering her a smile.
She held him in her large clawlike arms, pulling him to her chest.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “I’d do the same for you.”
Elvira enveloped him in her arms. She picked him up, and slithered away into the night.

Damn if Benedict knew where. He’d like to see them again. Hopefully he would.
He stood back up, dusting off his knees as he looked around. The ruin. The desolation. People were kneeling on the streets in shock and disbelief, hugging one another.

But it was over. He learned of the prophecy of the Thormwick Calamity. Of the unprescedented disaster that awaited. But instead of fleeing like everyone else, he rushed straight into its maws.
Even after everything that happened, he couldn’t help but to smile. After all, there was an entire country who needed their fortunes read.

And as the last soothsayer of Meruvia, he had them all to himself.