Chapter Text
“Tell me, Good Hunter of the Church. Have you seen the light? Are my Church Hunters the Honorable Spartans I hoped they would be?” – Ludwig, The First Hunter of the Church
A woman sobbing filled the air.
A dark empty building nestled deep within the city, standing sentinel over a small garden. Sorrow, Longing, Agony and Fury permeate the air with an almost viscous quality.
The sobbing grows as the garden is approached. The flowers, both growing and laid upon the ground, part around a mound of earth.
Silence descends upon the scene before…
A Scream.
It started, like most of Hunter’s life, on a patrol.
“Another one,” Hunter crouched down, setting his Logarius wheel upon the ground to examine the burnt body before him.
A large scourge beast collapsed not far from a building, the werewolf creature burnt almost beyond recognition. A second lay on the other side of the street, the body in a similar state.
His companion, dressed in the same executioner garb as Hunter, whistled, “That’ll be the fourth one in three days.” He set his own wheel down then removed his Gold Ardeo, holding the solid metal cone helmet under his free arm. “Someone’s doing our jobs.”
“Yes, Steve, but who?” Hunter continued looking over the beast. “Lilith said none of the other church hunter groups took credit for these kills.”
He rolled the body over onto its back. The cause of death was obvious but unusual, and Hunter frowned as he ran a gloved hand along the edge of a caved in chest cavity radiating from a clean slice. The beast’s fur had been nearly burned away, a few tuffs still smoldering slightly. Besides the claws and elongated jaw of sharp broken teeth, Hunter would never know this was a victim of the Beast Scourge.
“What do you make of that?” Steve asked after a moment.
Hunter followed his gaze to the wall in front of them.
Dried blood bloomed outward from a point a foot or two above head height, before dragging down along the wall and street towards their body.
“Must have been some fight,” Steve commented.
“Hmm,” Hunter hummed, “Well, whoever killed this beast had the sense to drag the body away from the building before lighting it on fire.”
“Not another victim of the scourge then,” Steve nodded. “I’d say it was a concerned citizen, but they’d need to be an ogre to throw a scourge beast that high.”
“No,” Hunter poked at the wound at the center of the beasts collapsed chest, “This is something else…”
He lifted his own Ardeo and sniffed his glove, frowning.
“What?”
“Gunpowder,” Hunter stood, brushing his hand off on his robes.
“What kind of gun could do that?”
“No idea…”
Immediately after returning from his patrol, Hunter made his way through the workshop within the Executioner Hall.
Normally, he would take his time with this, watch the growing numbers of Executioners train and fashion new weapons to wield against their enemies. It always was a source of pride to reflect upon how they were rebuilding after the assault upon the Vilebloods.
Since his uncle Belos, Commander of the Executioners, had taken over after Master Logarius chose to martyr himself within that castle, the dozen or so survivors had grown the covenant to almost their pre-Cainhurst levels. His uncle had even divined a way to recreate Master Logarius’ magic to create new Logarius Wheel weapons, though the higher ranks preferred the originals.
Right now, though, Hunter needed to speak with his uncle.
“Kikimora, I need to see my uncle, is he in?” He tersely asked the small woman.
“Master Belos is with the representatives of the Healing Church,” Kikimora glanced up from her place by the audience hall, face full of smugness. “I will gladly fetch you when they are finished with their business,” Her tone indicated that would never happen.
“That’s quite alright,” Hunter relished how her smug smile fell, “I can wait.”
Hunter had no idea why his uncle’s servant hated him so much.
Perhaps, despite her repeated vows of loyalty, she never really grew to care for the other executioners after what had happened in Cainhurst. He had to imagine that not all those Vilebloods treated their servants like slaves like the stories said, and she held some trauma from that day.
If you asked him, Kikimora should be more grateful to the whole order for saving her from the clutches of heretics, not just his uncle.
The two stood facing each other, neither making any effort to engage the other. After entirely too long, the doors beside Kikimora opened.
Kikimora turned and bowed in her way, while Hunter snapped to attention.
The heads of the various Church groups filtered out, one by one.
First were the twin heads of Vitimir and Hettie, leaders of the white church and black church hunters respectively. The former was responsible for many of the advances in knowledge about the Beast Scourge in recent years, while the later was responsible for excising the plague when it is found before it grew.
Next was the head of Diocesan Communication, Adrian Greye Vernworth. The man responsible for disseminating any official church news and info to the surrounding churches and groups.
After that was the only person to actual glance at Hunter, eyes running up and down at his still disheveled appearance with a look of concern. Raine Whispers, appointed representative of the Unaligned Hunters, a group of freelance and civilian hunters loosely tied to the church.
It looked like they were about to stop before the elderly woman behind them stepped forward and linked their arms with hers, Terra Snapdragon. The head of the Botanchemists, the small sect of the healing church responsible for manufacturing everything from gunpowder to incense. Snapdragon led Raine away with a warm smile, speaking softly.
Hunter never liked that smile, he thought as he watched Raine glance back towards him.
Finally, the last two exited, blocking Hunter as Kikimora darted into the room ahead of him.
“Well, good morning little Prince…”
Leader Darius Deamonne of the Choir stood in his immaculate robes, a critical judging eye going over every blood and dirt stain on Hunter’s uniform.
“My, seems someone has been busy playing hunter,” Darius grabbed Hunter’s robe to examine a particularly dirty section. He turned to the short, bearded man beside him in simple priest robes, showing the stain off.
Father Eberwolf, appointed voice of the clergy, smiled in amusement as he always did. It was hard to do much else after taking a vow of silence in the face of the Beast Scourge.
Hunter quickly yanked his robe from Darius, “I’m not playing. I am an Executioner, Commander Belos’ -”
“Nephew?” Darius cut him off. He took a step forward, “I knew your father. A skilled hunter, a good friend, wise beyond his years. But you?”
He leaned down to stare Hunter in the eye, “I doubt you’d ever measure up to that man.”
“I have earned my father’s place by my uncle’s side,” Hunter retorted.
“Have you?” was the simple answer.
Hunter frowned as Darius straightened and strode past him, Father Eberwolf following along.
“Darius,” Hunter called out.
The two men turned back. Hunter glanced to a nearby mural depicting the battle of Cainhurst Castle. He studied each of the fallen Executioners there for a minute, imagining each was his father.
Finally, he turned to them, “I will.”
Darius raised an eyebrow, whilst Father Eberwolf idly ran a hand through his bushy beard. The mute priest glanced between the glaring Hunter and Darius with an amused smile.
After a moment, Darius scoffed, “We’ll see, won’t we? Come on.”
With that the two men turned and continued on their way, while Hunter made for the now empty door.
“Commander!” Hunter announced himself as he strode forward into the room. On the other side of the large room, sitting upon the seat of Logarius, was his uncle.
The man seemed shrunken into himself, almost doubled over as he took long laborious breaths. He wore the same white robes of the other Executioners with the tanned hide of a heretical cleric beast sewed into the shoulders, giving a fur lined edge. His own Gold Ardeo was adorned with the same cleric beast’s antlers, with carved decorated eye slits in contradiction to the blank featureless helms the rest wore.
A show of how he would lead the Executioners to greatness once more.
Commander Belos raised a hand towards Hunter, cautioning him. His other dug into the arm of the chair, almost claw-like fingers following well-worn grooves in the wood. Beside him, his mace, a Healing Church relic storied and drenched in the blood of heretics and faithful alike, rested against seat.
Kikimora appeared at his side with a large dose of healing blood upon a platter, offering it up to the man.
Hunter came to a stop nearby as his uncle took the large vial and injected it into his neck. His whole body seized up for a moment before a violent shudder jerked down his body. He gasped as if a large weight had been lifted from his chest.
“Thank you, Kikimora,” Belos’ calm, smooth voice said as he replaced the vial upon the platter. “That will be all for now.”
She bowed as he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
Hunter watched her scurry off in the corner of his eye before redirecting focus to his uncle, waiting at attention. It would do well not to ignore the man, whether imagined or not.
“My favorite nephew,” Belos stretched his neck before looking towards him. “Has there been news?”
Hunter bowed his head, “Not as such, Lord Commander. I come with a possible opportunity.”
“Oh?” Belos sounded intrigued, “And what would that be?”
Hunter dared to raise his head, looking to his uncle, “In the past few days, a large number of beasts have been exterminated within the area of Cathedral Ward. However, according to Miss Lilith, none of the hunter covenants have taken claim to these kills.”
“An unaligned hunter?” Belos inquired. “The Vileblood Lady and her ilk?”
“No,” Hunter shook his head, “Her small coven has been seen on the other side of Yharnam during the time frames of some of these attacks. Besides, I have seen her work and this is something else, something powerful…”
“I see,” Belos rose from his seat, slowly making his way over to a large stained-glass window depicting Belos presiding over Executioners slaughtering heretics. “And you wish to investigate this new hunter? Perhaps, bring them into the fold?”
“I believe they would be a great asset to the covenant. Besides, hunters with this kind of firepower can’t afford to be unaligned.”
Belos turned and regarded Hunter for a very long time, the boy resisting the urge to fidget under the gaze.
“Very well,” Belos relented, turning away once more to stare out the window. “But Hunter?” Hunter froze once more. “Remember your vows. Heretics permeate every part of this city, and it is our duty to execute such creatures.” Belos turned, glaring towards Hunter with a single threatening eye, “Do you understand?”
Hunter resisted a gulp and nodded, “Of course, un-, Lord Commander.”