Daylight revealed a mass of grey clouds forming above Aurelburg; the sky became too dark, as if the sun had almost withdrawn from the heavens. A crackle of thunder with surges of lightning came and went by, making known to the world below the gradual descent of rainwater. It began as a subtle flow and grew stronger with each passing moment. The downpour was slowly overwhelming the city rooftops, covering buildings and houses in moving curtains of water and drowning out all other sounds people outside could hear.

  Meanwhile, the village outside the city was slowly coming to life. Timber unloaded from the first wave of vehicles was kept in sheds; their operators hid under one of the empty houses with an intact roof. Work on the settlement was about to begin. Trucks that had the misfortune of moving under the pouring rain dug their wheels into the earthen roads. Laughing and the occasional swearing came out of the men who hoisted ropes and tugged their vehicles to the site. It was fortunate for them that all the heavily loaded trucks got to the place first.

  Kirk was caught unprepared for the noise that rushed to his ears. He opened his window to a view of a watery curtain. The rain did not blow where the window was; in front of him was a straight flow, a clear watery film, that partly obscured the view outside. Aurelburg was nowhere to be seen from his room, for the wall facing the city lacked a window. Only the church remained visible; the ground pelted with muck. His eyes opened to someone polishing the stained glass windows: a plain white tunic, with an apron. The cloak-like headdress she regularly sported was replaced by long, flowing locks dark as shadows, topped by a soft-looking white veil.

  It was Euphemia, or Sister Euphemia, tending to the windows and unleashing their colors from misted layers gathered over time. It was easy to spot the layer of dark hair, covered by a simple piece of light cloth, as if she drew towards herself what light there was outside. She had been working on the church interior for a while, he guessed. The weather was good, if not the best, for sleeping.

  “Quite a view she is, but does it mean she had twice the weight on her head with that heavy thing she usually wears?”

  It was better if she didn’t notice his window open, he thought. Priestesses back in his hometown took pride in pleasing their faith’s believers, but the outfit Euphemia normally sported was a lot less inviting. This sight led him to other things; he allowed other thoughts to play out at the back of his mind. A person's appearance changed drastically when a dark and heavy layer of cloth was shed. He saw himself in this change, only that he could have been a bright beacon, yet he saw himself dimming away, crossing into a shadow of his making. Looking at her reminded him of a radiance that refused to remain hidden - even in the obscuring torrent that fell in the space between them.

  Covered as she was still, these work clothes of hers made her look less like a stiff statue with a face. It should not be a surprise, Kirk thought. On the other hand, did the other members of her sect carry the same kind of air as she?

  He had to excuse himself, for the border villages he passed by on both Grand Prettan and his entry into Kriemreich didn’t give him time to appreciate ladies, if he recalled ever finding one to begin with. Kirk moved his head up above his chair's armrest; his back lay comfortably flat on the seat. This would work well, he thought; he could stay suspended in this dreamy state so long as the clergywoman wouldn’t notice.

  The rain did not last long, and so was his viewing of that lady inside the church.

  He forgot that the hallway connecting the back of the main building to the housing area was restored and reopened. Kirk offered to clean that after the belfry job was done. How could he have forgotten that, his mind protested. He had to come out of his room and meet the cleric there. Euphemia was in the dining area, as he guessed. She wasn’t there for a meal, but was looking at the ingredients stored in the cooking area.

  “I'm afraid bread is what you can only eat here.” Back facing the traveler, she was looking at what else remained near the cooking section. "Do you know what you can prepare with these?"

  The door, even with recently-oiled hinges, opened noisily, giving him away with Euphemia not needing to look his way.

  “Not hungry.” Kirk stretched his limbs and sat on a pulled-out chair. “This village is about to have... those people. Wait, I got it. Villagers now, eh?”

  “Them?” Euphemia paused, clasping her arms under her chest before answering, “This city's church has informed me about them.”

  “So you’re aware, I take it. Any plans for today?”

  “Uhm… now that you mentioned it…” Euphemia's fingertip dug into her cheek. She looked outside; the rain was yet to let up its pour. “I was thinking of going to the city to stock up.”

  “That might take a while with the rain outside.”

  “I agree.” Euphemia looked through the open window unwashed by rainwater. “I also want to know if you have come across other men on your way, before you saw us, back in the forest.”

  “You’re also doubting me, like that boy?”

  “I do not mean to accuse you, or sound like it.” The cleric turned around to face him; her voice piped up on her last few words. "We've dealt with... troublesome matters before. Maybe it was the wrong question."

  “I didn’t see anyone else. I doubt anybody would be foolish enough to not run after that, uh, weapon, of yours erased part of a forest from existence.”

  Kirk saw Euphemia’s lips attempt to come up with a refutation, but she gave up before any sound was uttered. She shook her head and closed her eyes instead.

  “I now do not doubt that you have seen how much we struggled.” She rubbed her right arm. “I prefer not to rely on… you saw what it can do.”

  He realized she looked back at him. That gaze brought the memory of that tournament again. Why would that audience box, and the people that were there, reappear through the gaze of a cleric? Kirk remembered that only affluent or influential families sat in that area. Were those eyes from years ago common fare in these lands? He traveled far enough, yet he found it hard to recall any other woman sharing her features, or so he thought. He couldn’t deny that there was a faint feeling that what he was doing was the right course of action for him. Kirk had to be careful still; a woman who wielded such talents surely had some other ability far beyond what his eyes revealed. That was the time when the revenant’s presence made itself known to him.

  “I feel you are bothered by something, Master Kiergaard.” Macario’s voice echoed. “Is she bringing something from the past? Perhaps she is the one you are looking for all this time.”

  “That was a little uncalled for, Macario.” Kirk lowered his voice enough not to let the room echo it throughout. “It’s not that. It’s not that at all. I don’t even think I got any chance to talk to her.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I am on my guard when she is near.” The revenant moved to Kirk’s left. “I feel it is a bad idea for me to stay too long with your new friend around.”

  “Euphemia? Why?”

  “Those who could manipulate such weapons tend to perceive my presence. She may not understand, but people like her possess… certain abilities.”

  “Like her trying to banish you to the Afterlife?”

  “Now that is uncalled for, Master.” There was a low hum after Macario spoke. “You might speak with your lips by mistake. I’ll leave for now.”

  Euphemia walked around the kitchen area. She probed around her: walls, ceiling, and even the outside. Finally, she looked at Kirk and asked:

  “Don’t you feel anything strange, Kirk?”

  “Nothing strange at all. Just me.” Kirk went to the hallway outside and looked at both ends. “Need help with anything?”

  “I guess it could be me…” Euphemia scanned the place once more. She shook her head a few times and said, “I have thought about it.”

  “Thought about what?”

  “Later, if the weather permits.” Euphemia pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Kirk. “I plan on taking you to the city. I can show you where you can find work, or charter rides to where you should be going.”

  “I did say I’m fine coming with where you and that boy will be going.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Euphemia kept her smile as she spoke. “I don’t want to trouble you further or keep you from your way.”

  “I’m all right with a little tour of the city.” Kirk asked, “That boy is coming with us?”

  “Yes,” Euphemia nodded. “I do not want to worsen Rook’s growing mistrust of you.”

  “I don’t think he’s letting go of suspecting me as the one behind those monsters.” Kirk eased himself into the chair; his back partly slouched. “But if this can ease his doubts, even a little, then count me in.”

  “Thank you, Kirk.”

  “I have to warn you. We might come to blows with this.”

  “Do you intend to sort matters with fists?”

  “Oh, that. Pardon my wrong choice of words.” Kirk raised empty palms in front of the cleric. “I guarantee that I won’t provoke your friend in such a way, but it might come to a heated exchange of words.”

  “I know that he’s not the one to give in so easily.” Euphemia attempted at a smile, but her lips only made a slight curve. “He will be all right. I know that he may be a boy, but he’s slow to be drawn to such an exchange.”

  “I also know you’ll stand between us if it should come to that.”

  ????

  There were few people on Aurelburg’s streets when Euphemia, Kirk, and Rook set out; rainwater soaked the roads and challenged the sewers in diverting the flow out of the metro. Almost nothing could be heard outside save for the constant splash that came from the sky; even the world around them smelled of water. The sky had long stopped its torrential tributes, though it left the roofs with quite an amount of water to dispel. Rook yawned with every step, but he stayed behind the cleric – and kept looking to his side, waiting on Kirk to make a mistake.

  The trio arrived at a two-story building whose pitcher-shaped waterspouts directed water to the nearby sewer grille. The cleric leading them was back with an even heavier outfit – one meant for rain and snow. Euphemia removed her hood to read a sign above the door.

  It was a butcher’s shop, though it had a good selection of preserves. The scents of cured sugar, spices, and the metallic odor of blood were far from an olfactory harmony, but some things smelled worse.

  “Take a pick.” Euphemia turned to Kirk. “I’ll pay for what you’ll buy.”

  Rook wasn’t speaking, though he stood close to the traveler. Kirk looked back at him, confused whether he should bear a stern face or smile in an attempt at an apology. Probably, nothing would have worked on the one who still referred to him as the ‘monster caller’.

  “That food’s for you, not for whatever new pets you’re planning to get, right?” Rook went ahead of him and looked at the other jars.

  “I… I give up.” Kirk diverted from the glass jars and settled for a small pack of jerky. “I don’t even know how to get tho- those things, even if I wanted their company.”

  “Of course, you’ll never give away your secrets.”

  The cleric wasn’t looking their way. It was for the best, Kirk thought. The humble servant of this land’s church didn’t have to intervene in what was supposed to be a disagreement between him and the boy. Maybe parting with them here was a good idea. All Kirk needed to do was to find a shop where he could part with a few of his rubies. Maybe a small stone would get him enough to be on his way south.

  He was refusing to take the opportunity, though.

  A little push in the right direction could help. At least, returning to his journeys would rid him of this gun-wielding brat. It also meant he would more likely get lost, now that he’d lose the company of the only local who dared recognize him more than a source of loose Marks.

  He looked at the city and its residents: it wasn't a bad place to stay, and maybe the monsters he saw the cleric purge from existence couldn't run wild here without being stopped. Staying in this city was a third option, though how much it would cost him to make a living here was a matter of how extensive the little remains of the Windstorm Family legacy could honestly afford him. Kirk could learn more about this place by simply joining Euphemia, the priest lady, and Rook, the boy who was yet to become anything but distrusting of him.

  “You are on the verge of difficult decisions, it seems, Master Kiergaard.”

  Of all the places he chose to manifest, Macario had to do it near the sausage counter.

  “You’re the one to talk.” Kirk held a jar of cured pork in one hand and a tin of ground meat in the other. “Be a friend and help me out. Jars or tins?”

  “They look the same, and I think they weigh as much. I do not know how any of these conveniences work.” Macario hovered around them as a ball of ghost fire. “Which of these is less sweet?”

  “The tinned one, more likely. These are usually spiced.”

  “It looks difficult to get the food out of it. I assume it needs a tool.”

  “I can work around that with a knife.”

  “Fine. Choose what is better for your situation.”

  “I’ll take one of each.”

  “You should not have asked the question in the first place.”

  Kirk did not realize Rook was looking at him as he stood still. He shot a glance back. Rook said:

  “You’re holding on to that without paying?”

  “Uh… no.”

  Kirk walked to the counter. Euphemia turned her attention to the shopkeeper. They were back on the streets shortly.

  Aurelburg’s train station was close by. Follow the scent of steam and the sound of grinding wheels and screeching whistles, and the platform gates would greet Kirk on the way there. Euphemia was standing in front of the entrance, anticipating that the traveler would follow her.

  “Here we are.” Euphemia looked at the trains. “This might not be the last time Rook and I visit this place.”

  “I assume this is where I want to go if I plan on leaving the city.”

  “Have you decided?”

  “I figured taking a detour with both of you is better.” Kirk looked at the two companions.

  “I see.” The cleric held both her hands and made a slight bow. “Then I trust we can look after each other.”

  “That will be easy. Why not?”

  “Not me.” Rook leaned near the station entrance. “You’re still a beast-caller in my eyes.”

  “I look forward to our friendship then.” Kirk's gaze bounced between Rook and Euphemia, though the former was not receptive to it.

  The audience box appeared in Kirk’s mind, merging with the automobile-filled lane of the city. He thought of asking this church sister about what she knew of the Grand Prettan. Too awkward a question at this stage. How long would he be willing to wait before a clue slid out of her lips?