The Springfield sigil had a secret. The three-headed rose had no stems or leaves or thorns. Instead, they grew from the tails of thorned garden vipers, who used them to lure insects. Merchants hunted the snakes to extinction for their leafy wings, potent venom, and perennial flesh flowers, leaving behind why the emblem has eyes.
Florence wished for those eyes to guide her sister home. Now, she lit five candles in the attic where she lived, praying to the ancient heroes who fought the Demonic Beasts.
Archibald Springfield slew the Land Drake, and Iskandar Canzones killed the Storm Griffon. The first king, Mathus Soleil, felled the Snow Giant, Gottland Braev caught the Gottish Kraken, and the Sorcerian Traitor, Yunjorn Riveria, exorcised the Lonely Crone.
Florence offered them a roasted lizard, a chicken leg, shaved ice, octopus balls, and finally, a lock of black hair mixed with Florence's dirty blond.
She gathered the missing person posters. Florence kissed her bedridden mother and her other little sister goodbye, locking the door's multiple locks while leaving. The shipyard where she lived rattled in the autumn wind. In the summer, there would have been a never-ending parade of festivities.
"Ravenna, you moron's fool," Florence remembered spending what little money she made on candy apples at carnival shacks. Back when the sun would never set, Ravenna never admitted to wanting them and then would devour both her's and Florence's. Little Milani grinned like she never would again. They would put on the most fashionable sundresses and pretend to be ladies, waving their handkerchiefs at the handsome naval cadets. What a riot it was! The distracted lads would get yelled at by officers or fall into the water.
Alas, that was a year ago when Ravenna was still here.
"I often see you around. Little miss, for whom are these posters?" A priest in a stark black and white habit emblazoned with a silver sun appeared.
"Hmm?" Florence turned around and curtsied, realizing he was a high-ranking member of the faith.
"No need for that, little miss. I'm no saint." The Priest smiled innocently. His demeanor was gentlemanly, picking up the posters scattered by the sudden gale.
"I'm sorry, your grace. It's for my little sister. She left home last year after, …, a falling out." Florence smiled back weakly.
"How do you know she's still alive?" The Priest gently patted her head.
"I don't, your grace. It's just I hear bits and pieces that she's with the Loranisburg Companions."
"I hope they keep her safe then." The Priest sighed.
Florence studied the Priest's gnarled hands, which seemed too calloused for a bookish man of his young age. What was he doing out in Leyforette at night? He must be a capable fighter. Otherwise, would someone like him make it this far, strolling over from wealthier districts?
The sea breeze stunned her eyes. Florence lived in Leyforette half her life, while the Priest was unfazed.
"Your Grace, your cheek!" Florence accidentally touched the massive bullet scar concealed by a scarf near his neck.
"Yes, I was wounded by a man I very much admired. That was the second time he tried to kill me." The Priest grinned. From the size of that wound, that man must have succeeded at least once.
"I'm sorry, sir." Florence curtsied again.
"He was a furious boy, always going off about killing. He mellowed out when he grew older. Too much, for my taste." The Priest fired from his cloak. Florence evaded the concealed shot, somersaulting backward, owing much to the dexterity she once had as a circus acrobat.
"Your grace?" Florence heard the glass break, meaning that it was a tranquilizer round. Florence thought she saw an eye sutured onto the Priest's body from the hole formed in the robe. The smoke from the pistol rose. In the ostentatious folds of his clothes, the Priest kept a third arm.
"I had hoped this would be easier," the Priest pouted.
"How many people have you taken?" Florence ripped a street light off its foundation, brandishing it as a staff. She quivered. Did he have her sister?
"Oh. You're a terrifying girl." The Priest convulsed, turning into a monster. His abdomen swelled until it became circular and giant, and eight tendril-like legs sprang down to support it. The Priest unleashed his two hidden arms, carrying two golden bejeweled firearms. He stood five meters tall.
Florence moved first. She clubbed him in the forelegs, knocking him off-kilter. Almost randomly, the Priest thrashed his other legs, sending Florence flying backward. Florence felt bruising, though she landed on her feet.
"To be honest, I don't know if I have the girl on the poster. If I do, she will not have died in vain. I promise you that, in the future I will build, the lost will have a name." The Priest gloated.
"What are you saying?" Florence got ready to charge again. She suddenly collapsed. Something that grew on its legs had pierced her skin, poisoning her. She breathed heavily, trying to get back up.
"You would have made a fine specimen. It's such a shame I'm gathering ingredients right now." The Priest fired a tranquilizer round. As it was about to land, a flash appeared in front of her. Instantly, it was gone. A gaunt, haunched figured emerged, grabbing the round with his bare hand.
"Florence, the beast is mine." Barroco's uncle, the old gravedigger, examined the vial in his hand, then broke off the needle. The Priest fired both guns. This time, The gravedigger grabbed her shoulder, and the world vanished.
…
Florence woke up in a basement. A pot of soup on a stove warmed the frigid cavernous space. Above the faded brick ceiling, heavy footsteps faintly scrambled.
"You're awake, love?" A voluptuous woman descended the darkness of the stairs, oil lamp in hand. The wooden steps creaked, complaining vehemently.
"Who are you?" Florence moaned.
"Margo Simmon, chair of the Loranisburg Companions. Your sister was not wrong about you." The older woman examined her.
"What?"
"Such a pretty little thing. Anyways, I had no idea Ravenna ran from home, nor do I care. The Armed Companions never tell me anything, especially that cursed deputy." Margo applied a fresh towel to her forehead.
Florence closed her eyes, too tired to respond.
"Your sister didn't show up for work today, so I mobilized every soldier I had, as the recent allegations against my branch were not… kind. Honestly, why would I ever need to kidnap when I can assassinate publicly? Better for business, transparency is." Margo rambled on, filling a clay bowl with soup.
"If I wasn't killing people, someone else was, and Ravenna is like a daughter, you understand? I even got ten of my Armed boys to help the search. They're usually good for nothing, mind you, unless an army or a demon shows up." Margo continued.
"Please… a Priest,… Spider…" Florence mumbled weakly, realizing the Priest poisoned her with something akin to Lunarfritz, numbing her, and Garden Viper Venom, relaxing her muscles.
"Rest easy, love. I will find him, even if I tear the country apart."