Rudra had seen some pretty fucked up shit. But this one still topped the list.
As he stood there staring at the four men, hands clasped over their mouths like they were trying very hard to suppress their glee, bodies shaking with the effort, Rudra felt something was... off.
They were human. Definitely. Rudra didn't smell the rot-and-sweet on them. But they smelled somewhat worse. They smelled like animals — not goats or herbivores, but carnivores. Ones with a faint metallic scent following them everywhere.
But, of course, it wasn't enough to make Rudra back off. He felt Nayan grip his arm, fingers digging into the meat of his forearm. He cupped her hand — her fingers felt cold under his palm — and gently pried them off before walking closer.
He crouched down, half-sitting on his heels. Up close, the men looked surprisingly well dressed. Their tunics were pristine white, fur-lined coats covering most of their faces and ears. They looked like they came from well-off families.
"...What's so funny?" Rudra asked the nearest one, voice low and almost conversational. "Why are you laughing?"
The man flinched and looked up. His eyes were hazy — drugs? Morphine? That would explain the erratic behavior.
"Sol'ly," he actually apologized. He had stopped laughing. And once he did, something turned off inside him. He didn't look happy. He didn't even look delighted.
He looked miserable.
"...Habit," he said. "I didn't mean to dis— dis'lespect the... deceased." He looked at Rudra. "I am sick. We all... ale." Rudra noticed the deep eyebags and sunken cheeks. He was shivering a little.
Rudra didn't feel pity. Dragons don't feel pity. But something made his shoulders drop all the same. "This man," he thumbed at the corpse, "is our friend. You must return him."
The man blinked. "Oul's?" He looked around, confused, finally noticing the torches and soldiers. His eyes widened. He jerked back as if seeing the Benevian army for the first time. "When... when did—" He slapped the man beside him. "Cshev! Get up! Get up! Thele's an almy!"
Half-confused, half-amused, Rudra watched the four men scramble up, palms raised in surrender. "P-please... we don't want any... t'louble...!"
All of them spoke with the same slurred accent, as if they had stones in their mouths.
"It's alright, don't be afraid." Tish — of course it was Tish — stepped out from the protective wall of soldiers. "We don't want trouble either," she said, trying for understanding and patient, everything she had never once been around Rudra. "We were just looking for our fallen man." Her eyes dropped to Mirek's body.
There was a wide, gaping wound at the dead soldier's throat. For a moment, Rudra thought it would be too much for Tish — that she'd finally scream, or run. She didn't. He saw her pupils tremble slightly before she tore her gaze away and kept her eyes stubbornly on the faces of the shivering men.
"I am Saintess Teresa Williams. And I promise you, in the name of the Goddess Rāva, you won't be harmed."
Something fundamental shifted in the men. Their shivering stopped out of nowhere, and they stared at Tish with wide, gaping mouths. Their eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. One of them swallowed audibly.
"The Saintess?" whispered one, licking his lips. "The mil'acle of lāva?" He held up shaking hands. "Can you... can you heal me?"
Tish opened her mouth — whether to say yes or no, Rudra would never find out, because the man who'd asked got shoved aside violently by one of his companions. "N-nn-oooo!" said the other man — the one called "Chev." "M-me!" He thumped both palms against his chest, motion jerkier now. "Me!" He took two staggering steps toward Tish.
Rudra almost moved. Almost.
Mamon stepped forward, putting himself between the advancing man and the Saintess, sword raised. "Now, now, let's not be hasty," he said coolly, though his posture stayed guarded. "Who are you people? Why are you sitting around Mirek's body?"
The man flinched and stumbled back immediately, retreating behind the first man. The remaining two didn't engage at all — just kept muttering low, incoherent words.
"K'lovos...sahv," came the words, barely intelligible. "He is oul Ko'leni. Oul mastel."
The words made no sense to Rudra. But something like recognition flickered in Tish's eyes. She looked at Mamon. A few silent words passed between them.
"Verthon Kroskoslav," Mamon said. "Of course. We are in his territory, after all." He stepped up beside Tish. "I am the son of Vran Kosco Rān. I am your Prince, Mamon." He introduced himself, chest puffed with pride mostly earned by his ancestors and none by him.
The men of Verthon looked as unimpressed as Rudra felt. They watched the Prince warily. His confidence faltered. He cleared his throat. "The body," he said, deepening his voice. "It belongs to one of my fallen soldiers. We must have him back."
"You may," croaked one of the men who'd been muttering to himself, "if the Saintess heals us."
"Or we could just break your necks and take the body anyway," Rudra suggested helpfully. "Much faster way."
"Rudra!" Tish snapped. It only made him grin wider. He stepped forward; the four men jumped back. "Look, I've had a rough day. And I'm running low on patience and fuel," he said. "Just give us the body. It's not worth the trouble."
"We can't," hissed one of them. "A colpse is sac'led..." The slurred accent was becoming familiar now. "Thele... ale... luulles.."
"Fuck your rules," Rudra scoffed.
"Rudra!" Tish protested again, unnecessarily. A vein popped on his forehead. He turned to snap at her. "Are you blind? Or are you just a naive little girl who can't recognize an obvious trap?"
Tish didn't look angry. Her eyes kept darting behind him, her face going pale. "Look, just listen—"
"Listen to your moronic plan? What if they're not sick in the body?" Rudra tapped the side of his head. "What if they're just sick in the head?"
"Rudra—"
"Can you heal a mind, Saintess? Can you heal evil?"
"We are surrounded!" Tish shouted. "Look around!"
Rudra froze. Turned.
In the woods, pale figures stood, lifeless and silent, watching.
"I cannot heal evil," Tish whispered. "But I don't think we have a choice here."