Quoted By:
“Tell me something, Miss Justine,” you muse, “Do you ever imagine your options regarding the Saint changing? Can you envision a time when she would no longer be “useful” to you?”
Justine considers this for a moment, then shakes her head. “The Saint has proven herself,” she decides, “These past few days have emboldened her will and strengthened her resolve. The foolish girl you first met is gone, a new woman stands in her place. Please, Master Pale, do not misunderstand me – this is the outcome I had wished for. I never wanted to see her fail.”
“Me neither. Though, I wouldn’t have resorted to murder as a first option if she had faltered,” you point out, “Everyone loses, that way. The weak – if you wish to call them that – are culled, and the strong become monsters. The world has more than enough of them already.”
“You speak like a man well acquainted with monsters.”
“Yes, well, there’s a good reason for that. The way I see it, our history is one long lineage of monsters – from the giants of our distant past all the way down to my bastard father,” you give the priestess a cold look, “Some days, I wonder if I’m the same as all of them. Please, don’t give me a reason to prove it. I’ve grown rather attached to the new Saint, believe it or not.”
“Then we’re more alike than you might have thought, Master Pale,” Justine bows her head, “I intend to remain by the Saint’s side for as long as she needs me. This has only been one battle in a very long war.”
“It doesn’t need to be,” you shake your head, “Do you feel “inspired” to share your knowledge, and help us catch these fiends?”
“And if I did, would you be willing to devote your life to this pursuit?”
You hesitate a little, the pause causing Justine’s smile to deepen slightly. “Not I,” you admit, “My duties lie elsewhere. But Master Silvera will serve in my place, I think. You shouldn’t underestimate him, you know. There may come a day when he sees what I’ve seen, and realises what you really are.”
“So be it,” the priestess replies, with the slightest hint of a shrug. With that, she turns and starts to walk away. You briefly consider stopping her, but what good would it do? She stops herself after a moment anyway, turning back to you and reaching into her pocket. You tense up, but it isn’t a weapon she takes out – just an old metal charm.
“I think you should have this,” she announces, tossing it across to you, “Someone gave this to me once, many years ago. Even then, I knew that I too would pass it to someone else. You’ll do the same, I think.”
You catch the charm, the tarnished gold making a tiny weight in your hand even as a tingle of power runs up your arm.
When you look back up, Justine is gone.
[1]
