CHAPTER 1122: A MAN IN THE MIDDLE

When Diarmuid exited his bed chamber, entering the well appointed sitting room that formed the core of the suite of rooms he’d been provided with, he was greeted with the unexpected sight of a flame-haired youth with a strangely curved knife in one hand and a block of wood in the other.

It wasn’t the young man’s presence that startled Diarmuid. Ever since they’d arrived, when Lady Ashlynn held an abbreviated trial for the man who had once been known as Sir Tommin, the young knight had acted as Diarmuid’s guide, and perhaps as his protector as well.

The looks that Diarmuid received, walking through the corridors of the ancient fortress while following Sir Ollie like a lost puppy, hadn’t been entirely friendly. It was something that Diarmuid understood and accepted. Here, he was an enemy and a prisoner, and the robes he wore were enough to mark him out as a member of the Church that had called for the wholesale slaughter of ’demons’ for generations.

Diarmuid himself had fought against the Eldritch people, leading local Inquisitors and Acolytes in battle under Lord Owain’s banner, and he’d unleashed Holy Fire against people that Lady Heila had called the ’Heartwood Clan’ when they were only defending their homes against Lord Owain’s invasion.

Of all of the skills that he had developed as an Inquisitor, one of the most useful was the ability to place himself in the shoes of the people he was investigating. To understand what drove them to do the things they had done, even when those things would normally be unspeakable and horrifying to contemplate.

When he applied that same skill to thinking about the Eldritch, especially after listening to Lady Heila’s perspective on the carriage ride to the Vale of Mists, it was easy for him to understand the malice that lurked in the eyes of many of the people they passed in the corridors when they saw his crimson and gold robes.

The thing that had surprised him, however, was how quickly that malice evaporated, replaced by a deep respect and gratitude when those very same people looked at Sir Ollie. For a young knight, one who had only been a kitchen boy in Lothian Manor a few months ago at that, to command such respect from so many people left a deep impression on the Inquisitor.

"I didn’t do anything for them that Lady Ashlynn wouldn’t have done herself," Ollie had said when Diarmuid asked about it. "People are people, Inquisitor. When they’re hungry, they need to be fed. When it’s cold, they need to be kept warm. When they’ve lost their home, they need to find a new place to live, and they need it to become a new home instead of just a place to stay out of the wind and rain."

"That’s all I did," he said with a slight shrug, as though it was nothing deserving of praise. "I just helped to keep everyone fed, and to turn new houses into comfortable homes. I didn’t even do most of the work," he added humbly.

"But Sir Thane, er, Lord General Thane now," the young knight corrected himself.

"He told me that the people would need someone to help make the decisions and to see that everything was done as it should be. Without his advice, we never would have finished building enough places for people to live before the rainy season started. We’re still not done establishing the village... It will take years. So, I don’t think that I’ve done anything worth getting this much respect over."

"I think you underestimate how hard it is to do what you’ve done," Diarmuid had said as they climbed the stairs leading to a recently restored wing of the ancient fortress. There were still servants working in many of the chambers, scrubbing the stone walls of dust and cobwebs that had accumulated during the decades when there was no need for so many living quarters within the fortress walls.

Diarmuid’s eyes took in every detail as they walked, from the fresh coats of paint being applied to the castle’s interior to the newly made wooden furnishings that servants manhandled into place, to the hanging of tapestries that looked freshly clean, it was clear that the fortress was in the process of ’waking up’ after decades of slumber... and that the leaders of the Vale of Mists were expecting to play host to many more guests or residents of significant status as well.

"It isn’t easy for anyone to establish a village," Diarmuid continued, keeping up his conversation with Sir Ollie even as his mind noted the exquisite quality of the furnishings servants carried, or the extraordinary focus they displayed when doing delicate work like scouring mold from the masonry of the stone walls.

"I would love to see your village some day, if that’s allowed," he added, wondering if the conditions in the village reflected the same level of wealth and sophistication that he saw on display in the ancient fortress. "I’ve only seen one other Eldritch village before," he admitted, hesitating when he saw the ears of a bearish servant perking up at his words while several heads swiveled toward him with hostile looks on their faces.

"I’d like you to see it too," Ollie said hesitantly, pausing to shake his head at the nearby servants while he made a pacifying gesture to the ones who looked the most hostile. "But it’s impossible as things stand. I know that Lady Ashlynn wants us to build peace, and she wants to help people accept that, just because we stood on opposite sides of the war, it doesn’t mean that our enemies were bad people..."

"I know you’re a good person, Inquisitor Diarmuid," Ollie said sincerely as his pale gaze looked deeply into the older man’s dark eyes. "I owe you a debt for protecting my parents in Lothian Manor after I got tangled up in Lady Ashlynn’s affairs. I know there were people looking for scapegoats, and it would have been easy enough for Lord Owain to hang my parents for my crime of ’conspiring with demons,’ he said, pressing his lips together tightly as he tried to force down thoughts of his distant parents and the worries that came with them.

"But, some of my closest friends, the people who helped make the Vale of Mists my new home," Ollie continued after taking a deep breath. "They’re the same people whose village you helped burn. Old Nan lost a son to your flames, and Milo lost a brother..." he said with a complicated expression on his face.

"I learned that you protected my family before I learned that you participated in the attack on their village," Ollie said as he started walking again. "So, I’ve always known that you were a good man, and that you likely thought you were doing the right thing when you followed Lord Owain into the wilderness to attack the Eldritch. But the people in my village... they don’t see you the same way."

"I... I understand," Diarmuid said, uncertain of how he should respond to the young knight. The pain the young mean must feel, caught between gratitude to the man who had protected his parents and hatred of the man who had helped slaughter his friend’s kin must be extraordinary, and it was clear that Sir Ollie was doing his best to navigate between the two while following the wishes of Lady Ashlynn to build a peace between their peoples...

But what Sir Ollie was doing, just by showing courtesy to Diarmuid couldn’t have been easy, and the Inquisitor doubted there were a dozen knights in the whole of Lothian March who could have done it so well, to say nothing of kitchen staff in a lord’s manor.

"You’re a very impressive man, Sir Ollie," Diarmuid said when they finally reached the chambers where he would have a chance to wash off the grime of travel and to refresh himself before meeting with the leaders of the Vale of Mists. "I doubt there are many men in this world who will ever be your equal."

Diarmuid had meant what he said. The young man was an impressive knight who exhibited many of the best qualities of the group of men who formed the foundation of the aristocracy. He proved that a person who met their struggles in the most admirable of ways could truly rise up in the world, and that he was ready to bear greater burdens than the ones he’d been born to carry.

But when Diarmuid emerged from his chambers, wearing the antiquated outfit that looked like a simpler version of the dark green over lighter green version of the outfit that Sir Ollie wore, it wasn’t the fact that the young knight held a carving knife and a block of wood in his hands while he waited for Diarmuid that took the Inquisitor by surprise.

It was the jade green energy that flowed from the young man’s hands, wrapping around the knife and wood like vines around the trunk of the tree that truly took Diarmuid by surprise.

"Sir Ollie," Diarmuid said, freezing in his tracks as his eyes stared, unblinking, at the carving in the young knight’s hands. "You... you’re a witch?"