The Rose

Red's family was wealthy, that much had been clear when John had seen the victorian mansion they owned. But there's wealthy, and then there's filthy fucking rich. Evidently, the Brightons were the latter. John was stunned into a dumbfound expression as they stepped inside the gothic mansion, and even Red let out a whistle. Large and open, the entrance hall was meant to impress, with a staircase on either side of the room leading to a second-floor landing. Suits of armour lined the walls, with a mix of weapons and paintings hung between them, and from the centre of the ceiling hung an ornate chandelier.

‘This room must have cost hundreds of thousands,' John thought in awe. ‘With the Golden Rose on our side, we'll definitely stand a chance against Vulpis.'

The Brighton manor was a blend of gothic and modern elements. In one room there might be an armoury, and in the next would be an indoor swimming pool. If Moira had toured them through every room in the mansion, it would have taken hours to navigate. But as it were, they did not have the ‘authorisation' to access several wings of the large building. At first, John had thought she was joking, but as curiosity got the better of him and he tried to step past one door, a suit of armour suddenly animated, barring his path with a large and rather sharp spear.

John’s startled expression caused an uproar of laughter in Red and Saccharine, but Moira certainly didn’t find it funny. “What did I say, Newman?” she scowled, grabbing his wrist firmly and dragging him down the hallway.

Two corners later and she led them into a large library. Shelves stacked ten metres high lined the room in neat rows, filled with old-looking books that -- if the cliche was true -- had never been opened. In one corner of the library, a small space had been cleared to allow room for some chairs and a coffee table. It seemed that the Brightons were a bowling alley and home theatre away from owning the quintessential rich bastard’s mansion.

“We shall wait here,” Moira decided, gesturing to one of the vacant chairs. “I can organise for tea or coffee, any preference?”

“Tea,” Red said immediately as she made herself comfortable in a recliner. “Cheers.”

Moira nodded and turned towards the door, but paused as John made to follow her. “Do you um… mind if we talk outside?” John asked nervously.

Her features softened. “Of course not,” Moira smiled, sensing what he wanted to say was of importance. She led him back into the hall and into an adjacent room -- a study -- much smaller than the library. “What’s the matter?” she asked once they were seated.

John regarded Moira for a long moment, and she watched back with patience. ‘It’s kind of crazy,’ John thought, ‘we’ve hardly known each other for three days, but I’m already glad to consider her a friend.’

Sure, she was a little stuck up, but she was also kind and had demonstrated concern for his well being. It was Moira that had first explained to him the Abyss, and now she was trying to help him solve this impossible situation with Vulpis. And as far as people in the Abyss went, Moira seemed to live by fairly strong principles.

“I… killed somebody today,” John said honestly. Probably not the best way to open the conversation, but broaching such topics didn’t exactly get easier with experience.

Moira’s eyes widened. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “Explain,” she said shortly.

John paused slightly, wondering if now was the time to open up about the exact nature of his powers. “I was training in a barrier,” John explained, deciding against telling her the whole truth.

“Training? How?” Moira cut in.

“Oh, I was trying to improve my fighting skills against some boars. But it turned out they had an owner… the guy was a psycho, **** and cannibal. He even called himself ‘Pigfucker’,” John continued, nose creased as he recalled the hillbilly’s Observe sheet. “He attacked me, and so I… killed him.”

“How did you know all that?” Moira asked suspiciously.

“Oh… right,” John sighed. “Remember how I knew you were part of the Golden Rose? The same spell I used then told me that information about Pigfucker.”

“I see…” Moira said thoughtfully, before smiling at him. “I appreciate your honesty with me, John.”

John buried his head in his hands. “I just don’t know what to think; I’ve never killed anyone before. I was a normal guy four days ago! But everything’s just happened so fast… so insanely fast. You were right, after all.”

“I understand this must be troubling for you,” Moira said sympathetically, placing a tender hand on his shoulder. “Having been raised in the mundane world, you must feel like you’re suspended upside down in the Abyss. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re handling things remarkably well. But the Abyss will rarely give you the luxury of choice. There is no law but that which is enforced by the powerful, and mercy is hard to find. We -- the Golden Rose -- kill so that the innocent don’t have to. So I do not fault your action, John. By the sounds of things, this person was a monster. Had he lived, he would have undoubtedly preyed on many innocents.”

“So don’t lose sleep over it, huh?” John sighed, echoing Red’s earlier words.

“The guilt you feel is natural,” Moira assured him. “Killing isn’t something that should ever come easily. But don’t worry, John, you’re one of the good ones.”

John looked up at the paladin -- his friend -- and gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Moira.” He didn’t exactly feel any better, but if what Moira was saying was true, that was okay.

“Now, why don’t you rejoin your friends, and I’ll go and get this tea sorted,” Moira suggested, patting him once on the shoulder and helping him to his feet.

“Okay,” John smiled, before suddenly hugging her.

Moira tensed against him, and the breath seemed to catch in her throat. John blinked, he himself surprised at his act.

“Sorry, I uh… shouldn’t have done that,” he said sheepishly stepping away.

Moira stared at him wide-eyed and with a crimson tint to her cheeks. “No… it’s fine. But I should… uh… tea. Right, I need to get the tea,” she stammered before hurrying out of the room.

‘Dammit, John,’ he scolded himself, ‘way to make an already awkward conversation more awkward.’

Groaning at himself in embarrassment, John rejoined Red and Saccharine in the library.