Chapter 29: Misadventurer 

Chapter 29: Misadventurer 

Alma grabbed Dante’s hand, leading him quickly out of the park and back into the maze of alleyways that was Wiccawich. It caused an odd reaction in him, despite his deathly constitution his cheeks reddened and his hand began to sweat. Sqwent snickered. The reaction was not odd in its surface as Alma was perfectly attractive, her raven black hair framed her pale angular features. No, what was odd was that in totality he thought very little of her, or at least he thought he thought he did. When Dante met her in Far-Reach she was Pater’s right hand woman, although she didn’t speak much, any command given to the Zombies was followed immediately. She was integral to the slaughter of the innocent inhabitants of Far-Reach fort, perhaps including himself. And yet, seeing him beneath the Ghibellines’ he had felt sorry for her, despite her brusk and harsh demeanour he could see something more. This sympathy was not so easily quashed by his undead nature. 

They fled through curving streets and round unpredictable obstacles. Alma fled as if chased but Dante hadn’t seen any sign of being followed. Eventually she came to rest in an alcove, carved from the side of a house and possessing a bench protected from the weather. 

“I think we’re safe.” Alma declared, flustered but unable to be out of breath. 

“Why are you so wanted?” Dante asked, “I thought you were some low level undead serving Pater.”

“Ha.” She said dryly, “I might not compare to that friend of yours but I am decently levelled and well trained.” Dante was about to inquire further when they heard the sound of voices around a corner, Alma hushed him as she crept to the edge of the wall.

“The bats want to meet in the regular spot.” One voice spoke in a circumspect manner. 

“What?” A rather haughty voice replied, clearly not understanding and offended at the fact. Dante, intrigued, stuck his head about the corner. In the mostly empty street, save for a few drunken stumblers, was a man in white and gold flanked by two well armed and armoured men one of which was holding a drunkard off the ground by the scruff of the neck. 

“I am saying that the Bats want to meet… with gold.” Another man, dressed in a black robe, hissed. His covered features were completely covered but Dante knew at a glance he wasn’t living. As he spoke he was eyeing the flailing drunkard. The holy man noticed and at a sign from him the bodyguard knocked the drunk unconscious. Anyone else out on the street made themself scared at the sight.

“Don’t speak in riddles, tell me plainly.” The priest demanded. The other man took a moment to look about so Dante and Alma retreated their heads. He then leaned in and whispered something too quiet for either of them to hear. They popped their heads back out to see the white clad man grinning and nodding. The cowled man turned to leave, thought of something, then turned back. 

“You will of course also receive a personal invitation to the Ghibellines’ ball two days hence, as thanks for you - and your churches - work. It has already been delivered to your quarters at the church.” He said, and Dante could catch the edge of a sharp toothed smile. The priestly man chuckled quietly to himself as the pair once more retreated their heads. 

“What was that?” Dante asked Alma who was staring off in thought. She took a moment but then a devilish grin alighted on her face.

“You need to get into that ball, so do I if I want to see my mistress. Who better to take the tickets from than a corrupt priest working with vampires.” Alma said, gaining momentum with each word.

“How do you know they are vampires?” Dante asked.

“Really?” She asked, gesturing to herself. “If that wasn’t enough he’s clearly working with the Ghibellines.”

“The Ghibellines are vampires?” He asked, trying to hide his disappointment. 

“Obviously not all of them, the living members hold the power in the light while the unliving reinforce it in the darkness. Unum esse in tenebris oportet videre lucem is there moto. My mistress said only one in darkness can see the light or some such nonsense.” Alma said, not failing to notice the colour returning to Dante’s eyes. Before her curiosity could get the better of her the sound of armoured men tromping towards them. They were only feet away, if they thought she was spying she didn’t know what they might do. Deep down part of her still feared the church. Thinking quickly she grasped Dante bodily and slammed him against the wall. 

“It’s only a couple of young love birds your holiness.” A gruff voice relayed as it rounded the corner. Its master followed.

“Public indecency!” The priest shireek instructed his men to pull apart the couple making out. 

“You clearly haven’t attended enough sermons.” He chastised each of them. Dante looked down at the ground red faced but Alma stood firm. Once the priest's tirade ended his mood flipped on a copper. 

“Ah but I am most graciously willing to pray for your forgiveness, on an unrelated note I am sure some rehabilitated luminaries such as yourselves are wanting to donate to the church.” He said retrieving a hefty purse. Shakinging it he encouraged, “For the orphans.” Dante saw that Alma was about to explode and, overcoming his embarrassment, he laid an arm on her shoulder. She shot daggers at him and he had to work hard to stop himself from shrinking away. Seeing the exchange the priest added:

“Of course I may forget to pray for you and anything could happen to someone out in the city at night without the protection of the holy Light.” At his que the two thugs thumped fists into palms in a practised menacing gesture.

“I have one silver.” Dante said, trying to defuse the situation. One of the armsmen took it without hesitation and placed it in the purse. The priest smiled at that and turned to Alma, shaking the purse. She stared at him so intensely that Dante could have sworn he saw unease flash across the confident extortionist's face but eventually she withdrew a silver and slammed it violently into the purse, never breaking eye contact. The priest grinned wickedly.

“Thank you for your donation.” He said and then left marching down the street. 

Dante shot a look containing a jumbled mix of emotions at Alma when the trio were out of earshot. 

“What?” She asked defensively. They gave it some time but eventually they resolved to follow the priest at a distance. 

Ducking behind barrels and skirting corners they were able to watch the priest as he undertook his nightly rounds, extorting and cajoling. His temperament seemed vastly different depending on who he was addressing. If he ever met another member of the church or an official he was alway polite and understanding, offering to help one drunk councilman home without a copper. He spent the time joking and laughing with the man. When the moon set, around 1 in the morning, and most folk seemed to be retreating to their homes the priest seemed to tiredly give up the hunt as headed towards the massive temple that dominated the skyline. 

The district in which the temple and adjoined campus was located was covered in plenty of greenery and walled off. Dante and Alma watched from a rooftop outside the compound as the priest retired to one of the larger rooms. They spent some time discussing how they might get in when Alma took the lead.

Approaching a gated foot path that entered the compound the pair came across one guard. Dante was surprised to see Alma’s Blood Control skill puppet the man. He was clearly struggling but before he could break free she took the man's own cudgel and knocked him out flat hiding him in some bushes. Dante was feeling tense and uncomfortable with the situation so when a voice broke the silence he jumped.

“What in the name of all that is light are you doing.” Hissed a woman's voice from behind the pair. Dante froze and turned. Alma summoned a Blood Whip.