The Paladin in the Abyss

If the Baroness considered that femur some kind of healing tool, her satisfaction clearly went beyond a single treatment session. She exhausted herself on that bone until she nearly passed out on the bed; the scene resembled less a peculiar fetish and more a sacrificial rite from some dark cult ritual.

Lancelot could confirm that the femur held some special significance, perhaps even a holy relic of the noblewoman’s secretly worshipped deity. He considered stealing the bone to examine it but quickly laughed off the idea. The revulsion wasn’t the only reason; both the Scholar and the Priest had mentioned that objects related to the Evil God were extremely dangerous, with non-believers’ merely touching them likely inviting powerful curses—even someone of his Foundation Establishment Stage might accidentally fall victim.

For now, knowing of the bone’s existence was enough to dispel Lancelot’s last doubts about the Baroness.

The next day, after everyone had breakfast, they settled their bill and left. The Baroness was nowhere to be seen; only the butler, Coke, politely bid them farewell. Lancelot thanked him for his considerate service and asked him to convey his regards to the Baroness and to inform her that his group would proceed to explore the ancient temple at an appropriate time.

However, when they went to the stables to retrieve their mounts, an awkward situation arose: Lancelot’s mount was missing, and the Night’s Watch swore he had locked the paddock the night before. Lancelot didn’t pursue the matter, as from the evidence it seemed the great black stallion had escaped the stable on its own. Considering it was a beast from Scorched Flame Hell, expecting it to meekly stay in a small ten-foot square room was perhaps unwise.

Lancelot performed another summoning of his mount; amidst a red curtain of light, the massive Nightmare appeared again, a large wolf carcass still clutched in its jaws.

Lancelot also shelled out an extra five hundred Gold Coins to buy Barrend a sturdy dwarf horse as a replacement ride. Unlike Bruto, the old Dwarf knew how to handle a mount, although in a fight, he still preferred to stand on solid ground.

The streets of Chadegory Town were a bit more populated than when they arrived, but everyone still looked somber and hurried. Lancelot realized that the peculiar atmosphere from the day before was not the norm; the townspeople were likely aware of the impending conflict. Yesterday, every breathing being on the streets had been a spy, and his group had blithely walked straight into the storm’s eye, likely causing quite a few leaders of spy organizations to lose some hair.