Inferno Ascended

"These men are bullying me! They're using sorcery to intimidate me," Oenopides grumbled, brushing aside a fly that had nearly entered his mouth as he spoke.

Glax and Mors were standing with their arms folded across their chests and looking unfriendly, while the iatromancer paced back and forth in front of Rusa's highest authorities. Everyone was in the courtyard in front of the temple, answering the call of Lord Oenopides.

Commander Seleukos scratched his face under his mask, and sighed.

"Lord Glax, Lord Marcellus... Did you use sorcery, as Lord Oenopides accuses you?"

"No, Commander Seleukos." Glax spoke shamelessly.

The eyes turned to the mysterious Marcellus.

"Do I look like a sorcerer?" he questioned arrogantly. 

"So how did these things happen in your presence?! Explain yourselves!" Oenopides demanded angrily.

"Clearly the iatromancer must be accountable to the gods for his actions," Mors shrugged, speaking to Seleukos, not the iatromancer.

"I don't believe that! That my decisions as a healer in Rusa are being questioned by strangers!" complained the healer Rhoas.

"Not by strangers, but by the gods," Glax snapped. "Maybe it's not up to you to decide who lives and who dies, but up to the Moiras themselves. Iatromancers learned what they know from foreigners, and it's thanks to the benevolence of the emperor that you could do so. Your knowledge is not yours, but the empire's. And the power you channel is not yours, but from a higher source… So what is the point of refusing to use it to help someone? Someone who has saved several lives? How can you refuse to help as if you own what is not yours?"

"I can give you know how to speak, but it doesn't hide the fact that you are an arrogant social climber without true knowledge. You have no idea what he's talking about," the old iatromancer mocked.

"Sheesh. I won't deny it. I am a mountain man. But I have already met two iatromancers who have the real knowledge. I'm sure they could recognize when someone is close to Death, if they saw it. You're afraid of exposing how mediocre you are as iatromancer."

"Oh, you brat! May the gods punish your poisonous tongue"

"Lord Glax, enough! Priestess Glykera, help us! Invoke the wisdom of the gods to clarify this doubt," said the commander.

The short gray-haired Rhoas female in black robes walked out of the group, looking intently at Glax and Mors. The Valosian was not sure if she, unlike the iatromancer, was more attuned. Like Lady Jolla, for example.

The woman turned to the iatromancer dramatically, and then to the group of soldiers awaiting her response.

"I wasn't in the temple at that time. But we must ask the gods what to do. I just hope that this time, whatever the gods' response, Lord Oenopides hears the heavens and not just what the foreigners have taught…"

The iatromancer's face was etched with a rictus of anger, and he didn't respond.

"Lord Oenopides will do what he thinks best in the face of what the gods will say," stated the commander, clearly annoyed. "Please ask the gods about this, Lady Glykera."

Glax didn't know what to expect, and figured she was going to play a dramatic artistic performance similar to the pythoness in Temnos. 

But it was a little worse.

A goat was brought and the priestess and her attendants sacrificed it to the Ascended Gods to seek their favor. Then the woman stuck her hand inside the still-warm carcass of the animal and stirred its insides, in front of everyone's eyes.

Mors stood impassively beside Glax, annoyedly observing the entire ritual.

The woman several times looked up at the pair, her eyes wide. Finally, she held up the animal's bloodied liver for all to see.

"Hear, hear, Echelians, because the gods speak! That man," and she pointed the bloodied hand to Glax, "has friends among the gods. Death is present. And it's closer to Lord Oenopides than to the man in Marbium. Lord Oenopides displeased the gods! He alone is responsible for displeasing them!"

"So be it!" said the commander, while the others muttered about the priestess's words.

Oenopides was pale, and fanned himself again. Someone screamed, and pointed to the sky.

"Look! A harpy!"

::::::::::::::::

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Plop!

"Ugh! Again?!" Alexandre wrinkled his nose, taking two steps back. The mythical creature had just defecated in the air, aiming especially at the iatromancer Oenopides. 

The healer had just put his umbrella aside so he could feed, but had to jump off the rock he'd been sitting on to avoid the semi-liquid firecracker. 

Seeing him pathetically escape the mocking creature's fury was no longer as fun as at the beginning of the journey.

They were escorting Oenopides to Marbium, to protect him from the harpy, one of the ultimate signs of the gods' displeasure with an individual. Oenopides was resigned now, just frightened.

The harpy flew over the group and landed close to them. It was a majestic creature with a female face and approximately 1.50m in height, with wings of an incredible span. Her claws were scary, and she wasn't about to talk. 

Several times she tried to attack Oenopides with her 20cm curved claws, and was stopped by the warriors, who also tried not to harm her. 

As Mors ended up explaining, the legends were real. 

Harpies were free until they received a god's call to punish a hubristic offender. And they would only leave when the crime was forgiven.

"Damn it! It really stinks!" Glax threw his piece of roast rabbit away, disgusted, and got to his feet. "By the gods, can't this stop now? The iatromancer is already on his way!"

Mors shrugged. "I don't think he should have let the case get to higher courts."

::::::::::::::::::::

CRAAAAAAAA

CRAAAAAAAAAAA

CRAAAAA

The angry harpy continued the psychological pressure fluttering around Marbium, even as the iatromancer spent hours beside Tychos, using all of his knowledge and expertise to channel healing upon the Aegeon soldier.

No Echelian would dare try to harm the harpy, lest he draw the fury of the gods to himself. 

All attention was on the creature, and Lord Arsenio had ordered them to leave food and drink outside the fortress for the mythical being. 

Although harpies were often seen on Erimos, and sometimes flying over the border in search of prey, anyone with the slightest bit of intelligence would stay away from one of them and avoid harming them.

Meanwhile, in the basement of the fort, Glax eyed the Cauldron of Valya with concern. He really didn't know what to do about it.

"Aren't you really going to say what's in there?" He asked Death beside him.

"Do I look like a soothsayer?"

"No. I should have suspected that you just did all that to have fun against the guy who steals back the lives you're taking from your hands."

"Don't be stupid. Nothing and no one takes what's in my hands. An iatromancer only speeds up healing."

"No one takes from your hands? And the necromancers?"

Mors made a disgusted pout.

"Inside this thing. What's in there… It's not dead or alive. So it's not my concern. It's one of the Explorers."

"Is a person? Is really someone in there? What's an Explorer?"

"The vselys… They sent the 'Explorers' once into the Abyss, in secrecy. That's what was left of one of them when he came back. An oozing, insane mess. Ha."

"That doesn't answer my question. In fact, nothing you said makes much sense. The vselys did what, why, and what do they really have there?"

"Your pupil doesn't really have much to learn from you, although he's looking forward to it," Death grumbled, turning to catch Alexander sneaking behind a column.

The boy smiled as he was caught in the act.

"Hey, I was really wondering. Master, is your friend also an Olympian?" he whispered.

"Not exactly." Glax went to the student's side. "Marcellus is just passing. As soon as he gives me back something that belongs to me, I think he can leave. But he says no one takes anything from his hands…"

Alexandre was confused for a moment, then looked from one to the other in amazement.

"Don't be an idiot, Glax. What do you think you gain by making the boy believe you dominate me?" Mors grunted.

"That's not what I said."

"Master, when will the duel be?"

"A duel?" Mors was interested. "I can't wait for your duel, Glax. Who will it be with?"

"With a vselys. A vselys named Damiamon. Damiamon-whatever."

"Hmm." Death pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, but his eyes flashed toward Glax. "Ah, that's why I know nothing about it. Because your death will be quick and mediocre." He teased the Valosian.

"Oh, cut that one. I survived monsters."

"No, you survived piles of screws and pipes." 

"I can't die now, I have a sacred mission. And, Death is in my hands, so to speak..." He showed his hands to Mors, who rolled his eyes.

Alexandre didn't want to be left out of the conversation. "Sorry, but I want to know from my master if he's going to meet Damiamon and fight for the Valya's Cauldron. Because, he said if you were late, he would come to the fort and slaughter everything and everyone!!! What an arrogant motherfucker! What an asshole! He thinks Marbium is abandoned, and we are weakened! He doesn't know what Aegeons are made of!"

"If memory serves me correctly, Damiamon Oefer, if that is the name, has killed 1,832 humans and other creatures of Ascended Hell since setting foot on Stygia," Mors spoke as if he had just consulted some table. 

"What?!" Alexander didn't hide his astonishment.

Death looked at Glax in question.

"Are you going to let him slaughter a few dozen more people, Glax of Valosia? Or are you going to the duel?"