In a dark room, behind a desk, sat a middle aged man who looked like he had crawled out from bear hibernation, hair in a direction, eyes bloodshot, it was the merchant who had signed a blood contract with the Hollow Lord.
He thought he had been living the capitalist dream, but that was only true the first month or so, then he truly realized the work in front of him. The last 3 months he has been working like never before, had it not been for the blessing of the Hollow Lord he would've died from overwork.
But now he believes he has made a plan that truly utilizes the true potential of the tireless Husks. New routes, more carriages, more customers, he had also expanded the range of customers so even the ones he had judged to be too far away was now on his list.
Sadly this had cost him a lot of money, plus the donation he made to the church to move forward the plan, he was now nearly broke, of course when these routes start to become mainstream, money will flow, but… that's not now.
In other places rumors have spread of a merchant with tireless workers, who can transport goods further, faster, and without rest.
In a tavern somewhere there sat two men drinking and talking.
"I need to find a new transport service, the last one no longer wants to transport my goods, saying it's not cost effective and too dangerous." One of the men said.
The other man took a sip of his drink and said jokingly "Maybe you should find that merchant rumors have been spreading about, the one with tireless workers." He then took another sip and scoffed in amusement at his own suggestion.
But his companion got lost in thought and said absentmindedly, "Yeah, maybe."
Scenes like this spread everywhere, rumors of a merchant who had tireless workers, and could take dangerous routes. It was all thanks to the merchants 3 months of tireless work.
But these weren't the only rumors that spread, caravans with workers who bore red bands were spreading rumors of pilgrims who give bread, stuff like this spread like wildfire in times of famine.
Thorn had told the merchant to spread rumors of the bread gifting. And he had also made all the husks wear the red bands, to make everyone have a sense of belonging. Cults practically survived on a sense of belonging, everyone wearing the same colored clothes, rings, or in this case bands. And so people could recognize them, if you wore a red band, you were a believer of the Hollow Lord.
And Thorn, the cause of all these rumors, is giving a sermon at the church.
"The Lord remembers all, but only those who bleed for Him are truly blessed." He trailed. The priest in the far corner of the church had an increasingly worried expression.
Thorn continued, "A cross may be worn, but the band is a bond." The priest thought of the ritual 3 months back, the bands they had given out along with the bread has become a status symbol, and the towns people show it off with pride, they have even started to call them `red strings of hope`, and the towns folk are getting more and more fanatical about this lord, he is convinced that what Thorn and his companions his spreading is not catholicism.
He knows it's wrong but what can he do? The starving kids are fed, and recently a merchant who Thorn knows, donated a large amount of money to the church, fixing the pews, the leaking roof, the rotten beams.
He had done more for this church than God ever had. So he has stayed silent, and compiled.
Then Thorn spoke, "Remember we are going to have a test of faith next week, so be ready."
The priest's eyes flashed with sadness and guilt as he prayed, "Lord, forgive me for what I allow."
The towns folk smiled, nodded and left with their loaf of bread.
The week passed smoothly and now it was time for the test of faith.
In the middle of the church stood an altar with a basin on it. Thorn stood behind the altar looking at the towns folk entering through the door. Slowly but surely the people lined up.
Then Thorn spoke, "You are going to drop a couple of drops of blood into the basin and say `For the lord and may the lord remember me`." He looked out over the people lined up, they had been corrupted by the giving prayers for bread plot. They had yet to tithe their souls, as they had been focusing only on spreading faith, and after today when all these people were finished with this `test of faith` they would get a massive amount of tithe and their faith would spike, bordering on fanaticism.
The test of faith began and the people stepped up one by one, pricking their fingers and dropping some blood. At first some were scared, looking hesitant, scared even, but after dipping some blood their eyes flashed with new found fanaticism. At first the basin was only stained red but soon it started to fill up, with a small puddle forming in the middle and it was slowly rising.The blood was not clotting and if you put your ear to the basin you could hear a slight whisper, a whisper of eternal devotion. The people who dropped their blood went to sit on the pews resting, they looked tired, haggard even, but with this wide stare, just like fanatics.
Thorn smiled at the scene, the ritual was working.
The priest was watching this, he had seen how these people slowly fell into the abyss, he had even helped set up the rituals. The guilt was gnawing at him but he was powerless, even if he stepped forward, no one would believe him or spare him a second. Some of these people he had watched grow up, now he could barely recognize them, the look in their eyes, the change in personality, it was truly frightening.
But even with this he thought `Better a heresy that feeds the children, than a faith that lets them starve.` He once more complied.
In the furthest back row of the church stood a man, wearing a black robe with a hood covering his face. He soon turned to leave, upon walking out the man's brows were tightly knitted together.
He had heard rumors of pilgrims offering bread for a prayer, he had felt it was suspicious, it was famine, not even the richest dared to offer food for free, and he was right, the bread was far from free, he had felt it, the connection, the change in soul, the way the people went from hesitant to fanatics in the blink of an eye… or the drip of a drop of blood.
He had always hated creatures who prayed on the weak, the innocent, the helpless. That's one of the reasons he hated vampires. It was in his very being, it was who he was, and now whatever that pilgrim is, he felt his anger rise as he made his way toward the woods.
As the man walked across the treeline he muttered, "Leeches. Always leeches."
Not knowing he had been tailed, a Herald watched as he disappeared behind the treeline. The Herald frowned as he watched the man's shadow seem to stretch unnaturally as he crossed the treeline and melt into the woods.
This Herald had been tasked with observing the people at the ritual and looking for suspiciousness, and a person walking out of the church in the middle of the ritual, while being dressed like that, was certainly suspicious… and he smelled wrong, not human, not entirely at least. And that was suspicious.
The Herald made his way back to the church, upon arriving the ritual was over and the people were leaving the church. He walked against the current of people and made his way towards Thorn, knelt down and reaccounted what he had observed.
Thorn frowned, feeling displeased that someone had left when he was doing the ritual, but then he understood, this was an outsider, and a weird one at that, then he smiled in amusement then said.
"Interesting, another supernatural creature?" he would've felt if it was a vampire since he had met one. He was intrigued, "Keep an eye out, and report to me if he comes back." The kneeling Herald nodded and left.
Thorn smiled to himself as he watched the back of the leaving Herald. Was this a curious supernatural creature? Was this a possible ally? Or was this a person who wanted to play hero?
"If he seeks to play the hero, let him. Every hero I've met dies screaming."
CHAPTER END.