Always Faithful, Always Doubting

The banquet hall had been prepared for the return of Mizera’s lord. For some of the faithful, it would be their first time laying their eyes upon him. Vecrend was immortal. As one of the adages frequently related to those wishing to become a devoted stated:

“Rain grinds mountains to hills. Death claims kingdoms. Through all, Vecrend lasts eternal.”

Mizera had been gifted with an unnaturally long life, a consequence of his nature. But he guessed that Vecrend had been alive at least three, no, four times as long as he had. Though many had reached fanatical heights far above Mizera’s, none had survived as long as him. It was for this reason that Vecrend had taken Mizera as his right hand man. He still remembered the conversation from that day.

“Tell me,” Vecrend had said while looking out the window, down at the flock of people in the fields, “how many years have you been here?” 

“It will be 54 at the end of the month.”

“And yet you look identical to when we first met.” He turned to face Mizera. He wore a face plate with four “eyes” carved out of it. He’d wondered if the mask was why Vecrend’s voice sounded as it did, or if the distorted voice that echoed from the center of his being was a result of Vecrend’s physiology.

“Like you, I am here for much longer than most, though that time is not endless.”

“I see.” He placed a hand on his desk. Like his face, his hand was covered in a strange plating made of a foreign metal. If Vecrend had any skin, Mizera had never seen it. “Even if it is limited, I would still make a request.”

“What would it be, my lord?” His heart stuttered.

“I would ask that you guide those who seek. I have my reasons for my absences, but I need a voice, someone who I can trust to lead as I would lead.”

He stood in silence at his words.

“If the responsibility is too much -”

“No it’s not that.” He said in a short burst. “It’s just, I did not think you would offer me a position of such import.”

“Mizera,” Vecrend, put his hand on his shoulder. Though he could feel the weight of the metal, something felt off. He ignored it. “I would not entrust this to anyone else.”

“Mizera.” A different voice brought him back to the present. It was one of the newer devoted, one who had not yet seen Vecrend. “Mizera, are things ready?”

“Yes,” he gave a once over of the banquet hall and those gathered, “Yes, everything looks up to standard.”

Vecrend arrived. He appeared in a cloud of dark smoke. Another benefit of the nature of his existence, Mizera guessed. The devoted swarmed him, vying for his attention and trying to lay a hand upon his sacred body.

“Enough.” The devoted were shoved back five feet by an invisible force. Silence fell over the throng. He raised a hand in an appeasing manner. “I shall give time to you later.” He vanished and appeared at the head of the hall. “I am grateful to those who remain, and to those who have joined since my last visit.” Vecrend looked out over the crowd, his “eyes” meeting with each person in turn.

“Enjoy the feast,” Mizera said to the crowd. “Vecrend will speak more after.” There was a pause before a great shuffling of feet then clattering of silverware against plates as those assembled took their seats and served themselves.

Mizera took his place beside Vecrend. A twinge shot through his shoulder from where Vecrend had placed his hand during that conversation. Like him, Mizera did not need to eat to survive, though sometimes he would partake.

“I see that portrait of me is still up.” Vecrend said. Mizera’s stomach dropped. Failure.

“My apologies, I know you wanted it taken down but it must have slipped my mind.” Vecrend turned to him.

“Do not fret. It is perhaps better that the devoted have a chance to gaze upon my visage during my absence. It would serve them well to have an image of what they’re standing for by being among the devoted.” Mizera cringed.

“It should not have still been up.”

“Mizera,” Vecrend said, “consider the matter done.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He sidled a few steps away from him. He turned his head away from the glares and gazes of wonderment. Vecrend stared at something Mizera couldn’t see.

“You!” Someone burst through the doors, panting. They hid their face under a hood and wore a black cloak. “Finally, you show yourself.” They brandished a knife and charged toward Vecrend. At once the crowd piled and pinned them down.

Mizera strode towards the would-be assailant. They hissed and sank into the ground. A warlock. The pile of people tried to sort themselves out. Mizera called forth his own innate magic and turned on the spot, looking for the assailant. 

The devoted gasped. Mizera spun to face Vecrend just to see the knife buried in his chest, the assassin behind him. Mizera’s throat tightened. Failure, again.

“That’s for my mother.” They twisted the knife. “And that’s for my father.” They let go. Vecrend plucked the knife out of his chest. A dark liquid clung to the blade. He wiped it on his cloak as if he were drying silverware. He turned it over, reading the runes etched into it.

“A fascinating attempt.” The assassin sneered and retreated through the wall. Mizera rushed to his lord’s side and took a knee.

“I must apologize.” He blinked away tears. “I will find them.”

“There is no need.” Vecrend followed the assailant through the wall. Moments later, he returned, the perpetrator over his shoulder. He dumped him in front of Mizera. “Deal with them.” He clenched his fist before taking up the body.

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord.” He avoided eye contact with Vecrend and rushed out of the room. He found an empty room and slammed the door behind him. What was his lord meant to do with him? He who could not even stop one assassin. He gave the attacker a kick.

No response.

He kneeled and checked their pulse. Nothing. He sighed and burned the corpse away. He did not want to risk anything with a warlock corpse. He took deep breaths as he disposed of the bones. He stared at the floor where the corpse had been put down for just a moment, and then returned to the banquet hall.

When Mizera returned, the festivities had picked back up. He returned to Vecrend’s side, though he dared not gaze upon him. The voices of the devoted faded into an indiscernible buzz. Mizera looked only at his feet until the feast was done and the hall emptied.

He’d scarcely retired to his room when someone knocked.

“Our lord wishes to speak with you.” His heartrate quickened. It was no doubt about the assassin he failed to stop.

“Thank you.” He waved her away, and then set off. A quick pace brought him to the door of Vecrend’s office within a minute. He raised a fist to knock but did not. Vecrend called from beyond the door.

“Mizera, enter.” He bit his knuckle and obeyed. Vecrend stood at the window, much as he had during that conversation so long ago.

“You wished to speak to me?” His breathing faltered.

“Yes. I fear I have to give you ill news.” Vecrend faced him.

“Is this about- ”

“No, it is not about the assassin.” 

“Then it’s about- ” Mizera took a step forward, his heart in his throat.

“No, it is not about your performance either.”

“But I- ”

“Sit down.” Mizera shrank and almost missed the chair as he obeyed. His protests were caught in his throat.

“This is about me.” Vecrend took a seat at his desk.

“I don’t understand.”

“I suppose a question might help. Have you ever wondered why I am absent so often and for so long?”

“No, I did not think it my place to question your actions.”

“Interesting…” Mizera gripped his knees at the response. “Though given the situation perhaps it should not be surprising.” He sighed, a noise Mizera had never heard from him. “I assume you are aware that my body is not of this plane of existence.”

“So you are-”

“No.” Vecrend cut him off yet again. “Although I come from somewhere beyond, it is a different place than your home.”

“So where are you from?” He leaned forward.

“It’s somewhere almost between the normal planes like this one and the one you come from, and the accursed planes like Erebus, though it is closer to the latter.” He raised his hand and removed the gauntlet. A dark substance neither smoke nor liquid swirled about in the shape of a hand. “My body is a result of this.” He replaced the gauntlet.

“So that’s why you were fine.”

“In part, though, whoever provided the blade had attempted to circumvent my nature with an archaic brand of magic.”

“So then you’re concerned with the origin of the blade and the assassin?”

“In part,” another sigh, “they are not incorrect to try and remove me. But that reason is what I wished to talk to you about. Let’s return to the question I asked you, why am I absent so often and for so long?”

“I have never thought about it.”

“It is because my nature has a side effect. Tell me, about how many more have joined the devoted since my last visit?”

“I don’t have an exact number.” Mizera noticed Vecrend shifting in his chair. “But I know it is the most to have joined in a single absence, and by a large margin.”

“As I feared.”

“Feared? But I thought you’d be satisfied.”

“It is not so simple, Mizera.” He leaned forward and steepled his hands. “Because of my nature, my essence, I am a poison to this land.”

“Poison? How could that be?”

“It is a result of the proximity to the accursed planes. At least that is my guess. To exist in those planes is to be antithetical to the life you are familiar with. Though my existence is a strange corruption of that energy, that miasma.”

“What does that mean for the people here?”

“Worry not, what I am is not a conventional poison. It makes those who visit places I have visited,” he paused to find the words, “more suggestible to my ideas.”

“So then I-”

“No.” His voice was firm. “The effect is still very weak, though growing at a concerning pace.” He saw the question on Mizera’s lips. “And even if it was stronger, you’re far more resistant than those you watch over.”

“And that’s why you chose me?” It was a bit much to take in.

“In part. But your continued presence shows the bigger reason. You are still here, even after all this time, of your own volition.”

“So then what do you intend to do?’ Mizera hesitated to ask.

“I had hoped that by limiting my presence I could spare those here. I have realized it was a foolish attempt, a foolish hope. I must leave.” Vecrend stood up and faced the window once more.

Mizera’s heart sank as he stood up.

“But you’ll return, right?” Vecrend pulled out a strange rock from his cloak, and whispered unknown words over it. A portal appeared. “I will prepare for your return, as I always have.” He paused, and looked over his shoulder at him.

“Do as you wish.”

Those were his last words before stepping through the portal. Mizera reached out towards it. He recoiled in pain. Wherever it led was not meant for him. He could only watch the portal closed.

The room was silent. Mizera stared at the place the portal had been. He sank back into the chair, alone. Alone again for decades, maybe longer. Alone with his thoughts. Alone, with the questions he would never get answers to.