When Lumière had returned home to the monastery, he was weary with fatigue, but he still made time to check in on the children of the monastery. Tired from their daily affairs of cleaning around the church, they had already fallen fast asleep in their room. As Lumière watched over them with a warm gaze, he let out a sigh and closed their door, continuing down the hall of the upper floor towards his room. As he passed Sister Alinde's room, he peered through the opening of her door, but she too had already fallen fast asleep.
'Goodness, they really are creatures of the day, aren't they?' Lumière smiled warmly. Of course, Lumière didn't bother to glance towards the far end of the hall, where Father Benedict's room was. He already knew that the Father was still awake, likely sifting through countless stacks of paperwork that were required of him by the main Cathedral in the middle borough. Managing the monastery was already enough for him and Sister Alinde, and the children had not yet grown up enough to assist him. If Lumière weren't such a half-believer, he could have likely forced himself to lessen their burdens.
'Giving them money is all I can bear to do…'
Lumière opened the door to his room, shutting it behind him and sighing. After stepping inside his room, Lumière immediately noticed the chill that bit at his skin. The window to Lumière's room was open, letting the midnight air seep in. His heart froze, and his gaze shot over to his bed in the corner of the room, sensing the presence of the gaze within the darkness that stared back at him.
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it, Lumière Croft?"
Lumière immediately recognised the voice. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the shape of the tall figure dressed in an outfit reminiscent of a bygone era. It was Thomas Hawthorne, the servant of the Lord Sinner who had brought him the evil Deity's contract in order to survive.
"How did you make it in here?" Lumière asked, his eyebrows furrowed. His hand hovered over his waist, where his sword had remained. Having been influenced by the attack of the human amalgamation, he had retained his blade after fighting Artis Faulkner in the Fencer's Association as a matter of precaution.
"The window was unlocked." Thomas shrugged.
"We're on the second floor."
"So we are." He laughed.
Lumière reached into his interior pocket, procuring the blade that Thomas had thrown to him that day. He grasped it by the blade, extending it towards Thomas. "Your blade."
"Keep it. It was prepared for your use, anyway." His expression was calm, unmoving. "Who knows? You may find use in it once more, soon enough."
Lumière pulled a chair from the corner to face Thomas, sitting down. He couldn't bear to stand much longer. He was already far too exhausted. If it came to a fight against Thomas Hawthorne, he had no mind to fight back. There was no hope in survival. Although, Thomas had already mentioned that he would arrive soon after the fight against the human amalgamation, so his appearance was already something Lumière had mildly anticipated.
"Why does the Lord Sinner take interest in me specifically? I know you said it was because I was the type of person he's interested in, but aren't there so many more terrible people in this world? Why me specifically?"
Thomas shook his head, laughing. "You don't understand how special of a person you are, do you? Of course, how could you understand how your skill is most suited to our Lord?"
Thomas leaned forward, his expression growing serious.
"You don't need to know of our Lord's intentions. That's the contract you signed in order to survive. Even I don't know what he wishes to do."
"Will our Lord request anything of me?" Lumière asked, curious, a little apprehensive.
"From time to time, the Lord's Emissary brings us word of a task he wants us to complete in order to further his plans. However, when that time comes, we're only to complete the task, and not ask any questions as to its relevance or meaning. After all, how can we manage to comprehend the thought processes of such a supreme being?"
Lumière nodded his head. It all made sense. However, there were still several things that didn't seem to make sense.
"Why was that creature in Leiden- the middle borough no less? With so many Peacekeepers constantly patrolling there, how did such a monster manage to make it into the world of the living?"
"The world of magic is incredibly diverse, Lumière Croft. There's no telling what you will encounter day-by-day, especially now that you've accepted our Lord's power." Thomas maintained his relaxed posture once more. "Those beasts, they hide within the facades of others. One person you know may no longer be the person they once were. The only moment you'll find out whether its one or the other is when you're fighting for your life against them. One moment they will be man, the next they will be monster."
Still, this didn't appease Lumière's anxieties in the slightest. If anything, it only exacerbated them. "When using the Lord's power, I was able to sense the origin of the fear of that monster. It was human."
Thomas nodded his head.
"Those creatures, they're parasites. The servants of a bloodthirsty Deity, they are. That fear you feel, its the remains of the person they once were—— living, but forced to spectate horror. That fear you sense, it's the innate human fear that all people possess, some strange sort of primal instinct necessary to survive. It does not fade, and the parasites cannot erase it. That fear is determination, it is what they call the unbreakable human spirit. Does this upset you, to kill what is essentially still a living person?"
"I thought I would hate myself more, given time, but it almost seemed inevitable. By killing what was once one person, I saved two. Am I terrible person for weighing lives against one another?"
"You're here because you're a terrible person, Lumière Croft." Thomas chuckled, resting his chin on his folded hands. "There's no point in debating that fact. If you're having trouble actualising your regret, then I'm not quite the person to talk to. I'm not the type of person that regrets killing others, even if it serves me no purpose at all."
"Will there be more killing to be done in the future?"
"Inevitably."
"Then I'll steel my heart to it." Lumière determined. "Some thing have to be done to enact change."
"Well put. Still, the future remains to determine whether or not you'll be able to go through with such things. I wish you the best of luck in those matters, magician."
Lumière refused his face to twitch. Of course, he had surmised that Thomas Hawthorne had already known of his affiliations. That much was inevitable, knowing his name. Being a direct servant of a Deity, it was sure that Thomas was privy to easier access of information. He was prepared to understand that Thomas knew every bit of himself, and so he remained wary in that regard.
"So, what actions do I need to undertake now?" Lumière asked.
Thomas looked over to the side, his gaze furtive, and procured a satchel of coins from his pocket. He tossed them over to Lumière, who caught them with a surprised expression. "Go buy all of those wretches some food. This is courtesy of our Lord. Welcome to his service, Lumière Croft."
Lumière's gaze trembled, and his thoughts raced. 'Courtesy of the Lord Sinner? Is this something an evil God should be doing?' He smiled nervously, but also humorously. 'How is it that an evil Deity is doing more for struggling people than their own Goddess does? Isn't reality laughable?'
Lumière bowed towards Thomas, genuine, heartfelt respect in his movements. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. They will appreciate this, truly."
"They will appreciate you." Thomas smiled coyly, pressing a finger up against his lips. "It might go without saying, but mentioning you're in the service of a Deity with our Lord's such alignment is a death sentence for you. I pray you pretend that this is your deed alone. Anything else would incur suspicion."
Indeed, Lumière had thought of such a thing, but he had to ascertain Thomas's thoughts on the matter. If he were to mention that he had been gifted the funds by an evil Deity, he was sure to be killed, so that much was obviously not an option. If he were to mention that it had been gifted by a donor who wished to remain private, the origin of the funds would fall under suspicion. Every Dwindler on Cobbler's Street knew of the ties it had with the criminal Blackfeather Group. While the starving might not mind eating off of illegal money, other such onlookers, including Father Benedict, would be averse to it.