A group of thugs fled from the tavern, making a run for it into the night. Saint Priest Delayn Dacree let them escape. She wasn't after them. She was, however, after one of the Dryoak Consortium officers heading the operation to transport felmetal ore. The dark elven man crawled backwards on the ground until he hit the bar counter. Earthenware steins and plates clattered. One glass toppled over and spilled to the floor.

"W-What do you want, bitch? Money?" The elf tossed a fat pouch of gold to Delayn's feet. "Take it. Just know you're fucking with the wrong people. We're the Consortium! When our guildmaster hears about—"

"But your guildmaster isn't here, isn't she? She left Elusis to follow the Harpy King into war. Tell me, who else is in charge of mining and transporting felmetal? And where are they? Zone of Absolute Truth!" Delayn casted a field of magic around them.

The man kept his mouth shut, and Delayn heaved a sigh. For how useful the spell was, anyone could easily counter it by simply not speaking. It didn't forcefully compel someone the same way a succubus' charm could.

But when it came to an interrogation, one needed more than a single method of extracting information. To that end, Delayn incanted Blade of Light and the tip of her staff gained a sharpened edge.

"Answer the question." Delayn leveled the weapon at the dark elf's throat.

"Scant… Big minotaur. Can't miss him. He leads the mining operation. Nattis, harpy. Deep blue feathers. She conducts the transport to and from Elusis. The digsite is south of the city… in a town called Yaddin," he answered stiffly.

Delayn struck the elf on the head with the other end of the staff and knocked him out. At last, she was getting somewhere. Hopefully, Camilla was doing well on her end in finding Renya Rown. Not that she would mourn the scoundrel's death if it ever came to that.

For the time being, Delayn quietly returned to the East Saviran Trading Association outpost. Archbishop Patrice likely had another task waiting for her once she got back. The splash of water with every step she took reminded her of the inevitable catastrophe. Something needed to be done. But what, they weren't sure.

The only expert on the matter, former Exalted Mystic Ujit had vanished around the same time as Edina Hackett's departure. Delayn's best guess was that the harpy mystic had left with the necromancer without informing anyone.

"Archbishop!" Delayn announced at the door to the high elf's office. "I've returned with the names of two Consortium guild members supplying Elusis with felmetal."

"Well done, Delayn. You may enter," Archbishop Patrice said from the other side.

When Delayn did, she found the archbishop sitting at Petyr's bedside. The paladin was still comatose. Ever since they brought her back from the windmill spire, Petyr showed no signs of waking up.

"Any luck?" Delayn asked.

"No. I've tried everything. Pinching her, insulting her, waving something stinky under her nose to no success. Petyr's body may be strong, but her soul is weak. She seems unwilling to wake. Regardless, we will continue to make our moves with or without her. Tomorrow, I want you and Camilla to work together in disrupting the consortium's supply of felmetal. We—"

Magic buzzed in the air. They turned their heads to the desk across the room. A device made of felmetal and magic crystals hummed with energy. It was an odd object that Archbishop Patrice had taken with her before leaving Radevic. The device had a single thick silver ring suspended around a vase-sized crystallized mana. Runic bands mummified it like bandage wrappings.

If Delayn remembered correctly, Archbishop Patrice said the sorceress Elizabeth Bedlam had given it to her, and that it was of dwarven design.

"Arch… shop… trice… Can… he… me?"

They recognized that voice immediately.

"Grand Eye!" Delayn and Archbishop Patrice rushed over to the desk.

"One… ment… Mi… able to… tune… augmenting…" This one most assuredly belonged to Elizabeth.

"We can hear you, but barely," Patrice shouted into the device.

"Wait, we hear you clearly! Haha! I'm a genius! I've successfully engineered—"

"Yes, yes. Good work, Eliza. Now get out of the way. You can boast on your own time. Archbishop, are things going well in Elusis?" Grand Eye Analise asked.

"Far from it… Delayn, why don't you take a rest. I'll be here for a while, and you have an early start tomorrow morning. You should drop by Shaheed's bedchamber and ask him for a mode of transport," the archbishop suggested.

"Of course, Your Grace." Delayn bowed. "Grand Eye, it's good to hear from you again!"

"As am I," she said, voice tinged with relief.

Delayn left the room more confident than before. Not that she didn't trust Archbishop Patrice to lead them in Savir, but the comfort and morale of hearing from back home couldn't be overstated.

Elusis might have sounded the war drums first, but by imprisoning two Knights of Colors, they have disturbed the hornet's nest. With a skip in her step and holy chant to hum to, Delayn made her way up the tower to Shaheed's residence. She knocked on the door, only to hear giggling and the shuffling of bedsheets.

"I'll be right there!" Shaheed shouted.

The door swung open to an improperly dressed, middle-aged dark elven man. His bathrobe hadn't been tied close, so his genitals hung out in the open. Behind him, several courtesans laid naked in bed.

"Oh, you must be… Delayn, was it? How may Shaheed Moran serve you?" Shaheed smiled.

"You can start by fixing your robe," Delayn snarled.

Shaheed panicked and closed his robe right away.

"I need transport to Yaddin in the morning. A cart pulled by a single ronoa is fine," Delayn said.

"And it shall be arranged, my lady! But… the night is still young. Would you care to come in for some wine? Hash? Company?" Shaheed winked.

"No," she answered through clenched teeth and walked away.

"R-Right. You're a lady of the cloth after all. Your carriage will be ready for you in the morning!" he shouted as she left.

Delayn retired to her room in a fury. Her fists were balled up so hard, the nails pinched into the skin of her palm. Brows knitted tightly together. Jaws as stiff as stone. She slammed the door shut and fished out her instrument of flagellation.

The mortification tool was a wide leather belt woven with metal cilice on one side. Tiny hooks and teeth were worn from use over the years. Delayn kneeled on the ground in front of a standing mirror, shedding her priestly robe until she was bare from the waist up.

"Begone, vulgar thoughts of mine!" Delayn landed the first strike on her viciously scarred back that looked like ridges of a canyon. Pain surged through her entire being and compelled her to lash again. "I am a holy woman. I bear no thoughts of sin! Nnh…" Breaking out in cold sweat, she continued to strike herself while in prayer. "Pain is my reward, for I am ever a penitent. By your guiding light, lead me away from the path of impurity." However, with every hit she made, her nipples grew stiff and crotch moist. Drool dripped from the side corners of her lips. Dilated eyes ignited from zeal stared intently at the woman in the mirror writhing in agony. "Forgive me, my gods, for my straying mind… Ahhh… Mmm… I shall refuse no pain. Pure, my duties must be… and I… I…" The final lash broke through her calloused skin and drew blood. "Aaaahhhhhhh!"

Everything flashed white. Delayn's vision blurred. Absolution washed over her as the gods granted her release. She collapsed forward, twitching. Her back, scarred, bleeding, and red. With fresh pain coursing through her body, she rose from the ground and stretched.

"Ughh… I feel so lightheaded. Have I become more sensitive to pain recently? Lately, it only takes a few hits before I see the light." Delayn put the mortification tool away and washed her back from a basin of water.

The 33 year old Saint Priest climbed into the firm mattress with no bedsheet or pillow, comforts that she didn't miss. Born into the family of a minor duke, Delayn grew up more fortunate than most. Her father, Duke Dacree, gave her everything she wanted. Unlike other high born children who grew up spoiled, getting everything she could ever need left her empty and unfulfilled.

There was no joy to be had at banquets and balls. Countless sons of dukes and barons asked for her hand in marriage, but the idea of settling down interested her none. It wasn't until one day, her father the duke invited her to join a trip to visit a chapel he had helped fund. She witnessed devotion incarnate.

Over a hundred people, hands clasped in prayer, led by a single preacher giving a sermon. The beauty of it, to give guidance to the lost. The power of clergy to prescribe meaning in lives. Delayn still fondly remembered the look on her father's face when she asked to be a sister in the service of the gods.

Righteous duties, service to a greater cause…

Delayn's hand crept down between her thighs, where she gently fingered herself.

"Yes…" she whispered coquettishly. "I'm… I'm—"

The entire tower shuddered. Delayn jumped from bed. Another strike to the side of the building, and people outside screamed. She quickly donned her warrior priest regalia and rushed down the corridor.

Residents of the tower and Shaheed's guests stumbled out of their rooms in a panic. They turned to her for help.

"We may be under attack! Stay inside your rooms and barricade the door. If you smell smoke, evacuate immediately!" Delayn instructed before taking off to find the archbishop. She raced down the corridor and ran into Camilla and Archbishop Patrice coming the opposite way

"Delayn! Our hideout has been discovered. The Harpy King soldiers are attacking us from the air, and an army of undead marches on the front entrance. We're going downstairs to fight back," the archbishop explained.

"We don't have nearly enough manpower to fight!" Camilla exclaimed.

"And yet we must." She walked past them with her staff in hand.

While association guards and mercenaries boarded up the second floor, Archbishop Patrice made her way to the door barricaded with furniture. Outside, a horde of undead not of Edina's creation pummeled the entrance with a battering ram. The door was going to give from a few more good hits.

"Empowered Holy Aura!" Archbishop Patrice boomed.

A ripple of energy exploded outwards from the high elf. Delayn shielded her eyes and braced herself with a hand on a nearby table. The tingling sensation made the hair on the back of her neck stand. Holy Aura. Harmless to the living and non-demons. To the undead outside the tower, however…

The army of skeletal warriors, bone brutes, and monsters all bursted into holy flames. They lit up the dark night, screeching in their death throes before finally going still and leaving behind countless mounds of scorched bones.

Windows shattered upstairs followed by cries and shouts erupting all over.

"We left Petyr upstairs! Go confirm her safety. Rescue the civilians and Shaheed while you're at it!" Archbishop Patrice ordered.

"At once!" Delayn and Camilla saluted.

A group of association guards joined them going upstairs. It was chaos. Long curtains that draped down from the ceiling were on fire. Elusis soldiers swooped in and out of rooms, catching people to take outside. Few hoped to fight back, especially against elemental-infused harpies.

"Get to the first floor!" Delayn shouted.

Hordes of people rushed for the stairs. Delayn fired Penance at a harpy coming right for them. He fell to the ground and rolled up to their feet. Camilla led the way cutting and slicing going up the third floor.

A squad of harpies flew down the corridor for the archbishop's room. Right where Petyr was sleeping inside.

"We're not going to make it!" Camilla warned.

"Why are we saving Petyr again?" Delayn groaned, running for the room.

Before the two reached the door, something hurled the same harpies out. They crashed through the door into the opposite room. Petyr stumbled out of the archbishop's room, disheveled and pissed off. The high elven paladin wielded her felmetal warhammer and was about to pummel the harpies until she noticed the others.

"What the fuck is going on?" Petyr croaked and in dire need of some water.

"You were out cold for over a week! Kanae's been captured; Edina went to save her. Renya's captured; don't know where she is. And now we're under attack!" Delayn explained.

"This is too much for me. I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up after you've dealt with this." She slammed the door on them.

"Petyr! If we don't do something, you're going to have another tower collapse on you again!" Camilla pounded.

They exchanged exasperated glances. When it wasn't looking like Petyr would come out, turned to leave. Not a moment later, and she opened the door dressed in her full suit of dragonscale armor, helmet and all.

"Get everyone to the first floor and prepare to make a run for Jahree's spire. They won't attack us there. I'll clear the way," Petyr said and descended downstairs.

"We hate her guts. Why does she get to play the hero?" Delayn clicked her tongue.

Delayn and Camilla went floor to floor clearing the way for the residents, all the way up to Shaheed's personal suite, where he had barricaded himself in. Guards hid behind overturned tables and desks, holding crossbows to their chests. One of them was a little trigger happy and loosed a bolt that zipped past Camilla.

"Friendly! Get Shaheed out here. We're leaving unless he wants to stay and answer to the Harpy King's forces. Oh, and tell him to bring some good hash out, too!" Camilla hollered.

The door creaked open, and the dark elven man poked his head out alongside several of his prostitutes.

"I-I'm not going anywhere! Are you crazy? I've seen those harpies drop people from a hundred feet in the air!" Shaheed cried.

"If you want to take your chances here, then fine. The rest of us are leaving!" Delayn exclaimed.

"Kuhhh… All of you, move out. Form a defensive perimeter around ME. Is that understood?" he shouted to the guards.

They descended to the first floor lobby, where almost a hundred terrified guests were huddled together. A young human girl clung to her mother's hand, scared beyond belief. The front door was wide open. Flashes of holy light exploded against the backdrop of burning bone pyres.

Petyr signaled for them to move out. Archbishop Patrice emerged first, her Holy Aura still in effect and vanquishing any undead that dared get any closer. The group moved together through the under-city, but magical spells and elemental bolts bombarded them from above.

"Delayn, activate your Holy Aura in my place. I will take to the skies to face the harpies! Holy Armament: Suit of Armor, Wings, and Spear!" Archbishop Patrice donned the gilded armaments only high elven priests were capable of casting and launched into the sky.

With the protection of Holy Aura gone, the undead hordes marched unabated towards them— until Delayn casted her own aura. They hissed and screeched, but didn't explode or burn. Hers wasn't as strong as the archbishop's. Many succumbed, collapsing into a pile of bones. However, the bone brutes pressed forth.

Petyr buried her warhammer into the chest of one brute, then kicked the knees out from underneath a second. She ripped off their heads with her bare hands and wrenched her hammer free. How that barbaric bitch had enough strength after waking up from a coma was beyond Delayn's fathoming, but thank the Supreme One she was on their side.

They finally reached the base of Jahree's spire, and the harpy mystic himself flew down from the top to investigate the commotion.

"What in Glentir's last horn is going on?!" Jahree cried.

"Get these people to safety. We know the Harpy King's forces won't attack your spire outright," Petyr explained.

Jahree looked up dubiously just as a fireball roared past their heads.

"The hatch. It's locked, but maybe your brutish strength can open the entry!" He pointed to the closed opening against the spire.

Petyr ripped the door open with one hand. Elusis soldiers saw what was happening and directed their spellfire at them and the tower. Shaheed pushed his way in first. Even with Patrice sowing chaos among them from the sky, the harpies seemed to grow more desperate as people funneled in.

The fighting was starting to draw attention. Some unwanted, and most sorely needed. Citizens of the under-city took to the streets. They saw the Harpy King's forces attacking the spire and rioted. Many came out with torches, pitchforks, and any tools they could find.

Upper-city citizens living in the neighboring spires shouted in protest, too. They pelted the harpy soldiers with trash, some even landed on Delayn.

"Get back inside! Cease this, or you will be tried with treason!" a harpy snarled.

"Leave the Exalted Mystic alone!"

"You fuck off!"

"Mystic Jahree won't bend. Neither will we!"

Delayn couldn't believe it. Petyr was right. The people, under-city and upper-city alike, were rebelling against the Elusis army's attack on Jahree's spire. Harpies saw how outnumbered they were, despite wielding felmetal weapons and the power of elementals, and tucked tail to run.

After the last of the trading association refugees entered, Archbishop Patrice broke off to join them. Jahree entered behind them and picked up a hammer and nails to close the hatch.

"Fuck. What a thing to wake up to…" Petyr groaned, pulling off her helmet to reveal a face drenched in sweat.

"How did you even know to come here?" Delayn asked.

"I figured you of all people would understand, Delayn. Religion. Now, screw off. I need to take a seat." She dropped down onto a stone outcrop and began unstrapping pieces of her armor.

Delayn had half a mind to retort, but thought better of it. A few paces deeper into the cavern underneath the spire, the same girl from earlier was wailing. Her mother tried desperately to calm her down.

"What's the matter?" Delayn walked over and asked.

"I'm terribly sorry for the commotion. My daughter tripped on the way and scraped her knee. Hush, girl. It's only a scratch," the mother tried to console her.

"Allow me." She casted Heal on the child, and the injury disappeared without a trace. Pouring some water over it washed away the dirt. When the girl looked down, the crying stopped.

"Thank you…" the child murmured.

Delayn smiled. Pain, after all, should not be the duty of any child.