With the experienced drivers and no real screw up along for the ride, the merchant caravan made decent time as it wound its way south away from Colter. The forest and plains were very unremarkable in Alexander's eyes but this was to be expected apparently. The adventurers guild regularly sent clean up crews to the trade way so monster influence was sparse. Even on an off trip where monsters had not recently been purged the route itself was not overtly dangerous... this side of the wastes. Once they crossed into the badlands and further south into the desert is when the adventurer presence would be needed in spades.
Not only would the threat of banditry increase but the desert was not often purged, monster activity was always rather high. The trade way was often safe enough but no one could guarantee that a beast had not wandered in closer. The monsters were more dangerous mostly due to the terrain, while goblins and the like could be troublesome opponents in the forests, it was nothing compared to say a sand worm or giant scorpion. Neither set elaborate ambushes but the sheer fact they were nigh invisible burrowed in the loose sand made them far more dangerous to the unwary. Mix in a drastic change in climate and one could well understand how the beasts could prove deadly along what should be a simple mission.
Then there were the sands themselves. Sandstorms could easily pull the unwary from the safety of caravans and if the wildlife didn't find them then the potential of death by thirst or extreme heat could equally steal the life of the unwary. While Alexander had become public enemy number one of most female adventurers in Colter he had used the time to research the target of the mission. The more he read just told him it was a desert, dangerous to be sure but unless you were a clueless moron, the trip should be straight forward... even if the waste bandits did make an appearance.
As the caravan was secured for the night rest the green ranks were on patrol along the outside. His fantasy of pulling Laytalya aside to vent went up in smoke as the mages were positioned in between every other wagon acting as sentry posts while the swordsmen, archers, thieves and what have you circled from mage to mage. While he did manage a brief swat on her passing he could no more take advantage of her without risking disrupting the flow. Settling carefully on one of the wagon seats, his eyes roaming the deepening gloom, he nodded to the others that past his post, none of which were truly feeling the current assignment. Between the ones, like himself, who did not cushion the seat of their wagon, to the others who were use to much shorter walks, this evening patrol was pure agony.
In a few days, when they had adjusted to the trips demands, they'd be more lively. Right now though, most of the adventurers gave half hearted waves as they staggered or limped past. Alexander himself was not much better and the sounds of the passengers and merchants sharing meal and drink made the task even more tedious. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep but a voice in the dark shook him from the lethargy of exhaustion and pain.
"Ah, there is the sinner! A moment of your time I must demand."
Melissa's voice was both the sound of angels singing and the screams of those tortured by devils. Glancing over his shoulder the priestess strode through the darkness. The dark, habit like, robe she wore, coupled with the naturally darker skin tone of a native of Tress made her appear as much a shade in the waning light of the evening. He turned back around not answering her hail, constantly being called sinner was hardly how one addressed another. Perhaps for the clergy of Tress it was a norm but it was one that rankled his ire greatly.
"Sinner, did you not hear me? A word I would have with you!" Melissa's voice had raised an octave, like nails on a chalkboard Alexander shuddered and gave the woman a blithe look of inpatiance. Shaking his head he sighed.
"Very well Melissa what do you want?"
"That is -Priestess- Melissa, sinner." Her curt correction rankled Alexander even more.
"My names not sinner -Melissa-." He had had enough of thus whole holier than though shit. She and the brothers might be a rank or two higher in the guild but he'd be damned if he let her continue addressing him like that throughout the mission. If she wanted respect due her class than he expected a touch of it back himself!
Rather than a polite or even curt addressment for the third time, Alexander gave a yelp of pain as a force struck him in the back, knocking him head over heels off the wagon to the ground. Rolling over and looking up, a fuming Melissa stood with her staff raised, the symbol affixed to the top was glimmering with malice. He gaped in surprise, she had ATTACKED him!
"Sinner! You WILL address me as Priestess, or Your Holiness. Do not have me correct you again." The ice in her voice was enough to freeze the bowels of hell. But if she believed after a day of painful riding then walking with his aches made him ammendable to being chastised by a fucking nun, she was sorely mistaken.
Glaring up from the ground the other mercenaries were gathering at the sound of the commotion. Winston and Watson groaned glancing to each other seeing what the trouble was. Both looked at each other with resignation, ever since she joined the church she had grown a quarterstaff up her ass, and faced with one she deemed sinner she was likely to try bullying the poor guy. Laytalya was also near by, her hand reaching for her blade when a glance from Alexander made her back off. This was his problem, it was long over due sorting out this holier than thou bitch, and it would be a lot less impactful if his companion coldcocked the priestess with the flat of her sword... if she even hit, which Alexander doubted. Laytalya was a swordswoman but an experienced fighter? He'd lay better odds Melissa disarming Laytalya and spanking her with her own weapon.
Smirking Alexander pushed off the ground as if he was kneeling before the lofty priestess, who gave a curt nod, "See a sinner can..."
Alexander snarled, "ROT."
Mid speech Melissa suddenly felt her staff giving out before her, over balancing the priestess spilled forward, arms flailing. Yet not only had he rotted the bottom foot of her staff he had targeted the spell to encompass the grasses and dirt just before her. As she pitched forward her cry was cut off as she landed face first in a freshly rotted pool of muck. Alexander leaned back on his knees, "Very well your bitchiness. Lesson learned I think. Don't fuck with the necromancer. And I warn you now -Melissa-, you raise your powers against me again and I'll rot more than your stick."
The look Melissa gave him would surely gave killed him thrice over had the clergy such ability. Her face and the front of her robe was covered in a viscous slime while her precious symbol of authority had had a good length disintegrated. To say she was mad would say nothing about the hatred for this blasphemer before her. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in great gusts of air, her mouth opening to retort when both the scent of the muck and the taste invaded her senses, pitching back forward the sounds of heaving filled the night time, a fresh coating of vomit was added to the muck as the priestess expelled her evening meal before the looks of all the others. Winston and Watson hurried forward to support Melissa before she slumped forward into the increased mess.
Looking to Alexander helplessly they inclined their heads and said softly, "You should not have done that, she will be twice as vindictive now that you have humiliated her."
Alexander frowned, he knew well that Melissa was going to make this mission all the harder but it did not change the fact she sought him out and then attacked him over some bullshit protocol he knew nothing about. She got off lucky in his books, a bit of wallowing in the mud like the rest of the masses might take the sharpness off her tongue and if she did come back looking to strike at him again, [Rot] was hardly his most dangerous spell.
Still he nodded his thanks to the two brothers who were blameless in this, they did what they could to smooth the situation over but when the merchants got involved the shit really hit the fan. Merchants after all claimed to be against politics, but they played the game better than most officials. On one side was a rookie green rank defending his honor, the other a recognized priestess and orange rank adventurer... it was not hard to see who they should side with even while claiming they were remaining neutral. Alexander really expected no less, his own family was much the same, his father and mother had danced the official, unofficial and secret support dances no less often than these fellows and when one mixed in an institution like a religion, the waters got muddy fast. Lesser parties involved had to be careful not to be sucked down and drowned in undercurrents they had no hope of fighting.
Pushing off his knees he watched the other mercenaries dispersing, more than one cast a pitying gaze his way. While necromancy wasn't outlawed in Tress, siccing a priestess on yourself when the very nature of your magic was in opposition of hers was ridiculously stupid in their eyes. Better he took the hit to his pride, give the clergy the face they demanded and live on. The only question come the morrow's rest periods, just how would the priestess demand satisfaction. The one silver lining was that they were only a day out from Colter, had this happened after they crossed the border the priestess needed only demand he be expelled and he would find himself facing the wastes on his own... no less than an otherwise named execution.
Laytalya sidled up beside him and hugged his arm, worry in her gaze. He smiled at her and shook his head. This was not her fault. The priestess had attacked first, he defended himself. While any court would not rule in his favor he could not simply turn the other cheek and continue to let the vile wretch of a woman trample his dignity. Even if it made better sense to take the humiliation he could not, and would not, sacrifice his sense of self for some pompous bitch in religious rienment. Excused from his post, Laytalya guided him over to where the green ranks rested. News had apparently traveled quick and most had moved well away from him, not wanting to be swept up in the aftermath. Looking to his companion he sighed, "How bad is it?"
Laytalya bit her lip and dropped her gaze, "Bad. Her Holiness, Priestess Melissa is an orange rank priestess of the Saints Faith. While Tress focuses greatly on being lead by mages, there is a sub government that acts autonomously to the main government. The Saint's Faith. Its a congregation of light and divine mages, a belief that all magic stems back to a single Saint entity that created all the schools, a multidimensional entity that accepted nothing but the purest of dedications. Its why she took such exception to us that day, they view fornication outside of joined couples as a waste of the Saints gift of procreation which is solely used for the continuation of strong bloodlines."
Laytalya hugged herself. "On top of us not being a couple we're rather obviously not the same bloodline, you riding me was viewed in her eyes as you hindering our people, or invading using your own bloodline should I begotten with child. Why she would seek you out I can't fathom. The clergy hates outside bloodlines, mixed bloodlines are somewhat tolerated but anyone not of our blood is often outright shunned. To so go in after you, defies what the clergy normally does."
Alexander nodded as he listened, the Tress religion revolved around bloodline purity, likely for whatever magical genes were shared through family lines. "What do you think she'll do?"
Laytalya glanced towards the wagon where the orange rankers were housed, "Normally I'd say expect to be ousted from the caravan. The merchants if not her would do this simply to curry favor with the church. But she seems to really want to bring you down, so I'd say expect a formal challenge. Maybe not tomorrow but certainly no later than by the time we reach the border."
Alexander followed her gaze and sighed, "What does a formal challenge entail? Or more specifically, what stakes could she expect."
"One way servitude. No challenge is fair, at best challengees can expect the clergy to ignore their existence going forward but on her side. Eternal servitude, dedication to the church... essentially you are enslaved body and soul, literally, to serve the church and by extention her will. Most don't live out the week as the challenger often will then hold a mock trial where the loser admits their sin and is stoned by the crowd."
Alexander frowned, "So if I win I'm still considered a vile heathen but the church won't go out of their way to murder me. If I lose I'll be enslaved, humiliated and thusly executed by a mob. Lovely. Any way to appeal or demand better compensation?"
Laytalya blinked looking at Alexander giving a hesitant shake of her head, "No.... but to be honest most are cowed into accepting the challenge before even thinking of arguing the stakes, its just not done. The church's formal challenge is a sacred contract..."
"Which means most wouldn't even think to try and risk pissing off the church despite the group already aiming for their blood huh?" Alexander cut in, a pensive look on his face. A slow fragile plan condensed in his mind as he lapsed into silence...