WHERE ENDURANCE LIES

[alienescence 1415]

 

 

 

 

---

 

THE NEWFOUND JOY LEMON HILL HAD TO OFFER WAS EMBRACED BY THE BISHOP. Her afternoon routine involved conversing with Ledicort and Cardinal Alaric, or observing a Curia argument. More often than not, she wandered the courtyard, listening in on King Tiberias' not-so-private meetings. The lemons that grew from the trees looked more vibrant, a testament to the peace that was to come. But the evening neared, and she had to return to her home, Reinmar. 

 

---

 

UPON HER ARRIVAL IN REINMAR, A FAMILIAR PRESENCE LINGERED; their undead stench filled the tavern. Josefina recognized the figure; it was the same undead, Jormunharr, who had abducted her and forced her into a theological conversation. The Bishop herself was never one for debating theology, it was made clear on many occasions with Tar-Anorhil and some of her colleagues. Despite her efforts to ask Jormunharr if he had more questions, she hoped to spare Theodemar, Castien, Johann, and Amon the pain of engaging in battle with him.

 

This is not a theological visit, I am afraid!

 

It was not, she knew it from the start. Her thoughts were interrupted when the undead’s axes came crashing down towards Theodemar, to which the Bishop attempted to lunge onto the undead, but he was quicker. His axes came swinging down at her, which resulted in a portion of her ear being cut off. However, the final blow was deflected by Theodemar’s mace, which would have killed her if it had struck. Josefina fell onto her back, weakened, and unable to stand.

 

Josefina had looked to the young girl nearby, who carried a blasting potion, pleading for her to leave.

 

Do not take Theo or Castien, please.

 

The Bishop’s voice trembled as she made her pleas unto the undead thereafter. What happened next was a blur for her. The young girl next to her hurled the explosive potion at Theodemar, causing Josefina, who was lying nearby, to lose consciousness.

 

---

 

Dark Storm — Vinland Saga [OST]

 

JOSEFINA AWOKE ON THE UNDEAD JORMUNHARR’S HORSE, AN AXE HELD TO HER THROAT. Resting in front of the undead on his steed, she looked ahead to the gates of Reinmar, where Theodemar, Castien, and Amon stood. Castien's voice reached her ears, though it sounded distant due to her disorientation.

 

You said that you would leave her. You said you’d leave her when you left.

 

Her eyes struggled to stay open, but her expression showed relief, despite the pain that riddled her visage. It might have been odd that she was relieved, given her life was on the line, but those she cared for remained. They had not been killed. Theodemar's angry words failed to reach her ears; however, she admired his bravery. A trembling hand reached out towards Theodemar in an attempt to show her gratitude for her cousin. What remained was Johann’s fate. Did he perish? The thought briefly crossed her mind, but she refused to believe it.

 

Jormunharr tugged on the reins of his horse, preparing to leave with his companion and the girl. Josefina couldn't understand their destination, but she recognized the path leading to the freezing, snow-covered mountains, even as she drifted in and out of consciousness. 

Before she realized it, she was placed on the snow, at a secluded spot in the mountains. Jormunharr turned to the child beside him—Josefina understood that he was acting as her mentor. The undead proposed the question of whether or not the child would take Josefina’s life, and the answer was no. The child had enough blood on her hands. 

 

Know the name Sigrytha of the Jǫrmúnharrlings has held your life in her hands, and has decided to spare you. Thank her.

 

That was the girl's name. Josefina felt utter disgust at the thought of a child having to bear witness to the turmoil, and even having someone's life in her hands. Nevertheless, Josefina’s question had been answered: fifteen years, no more, no less. That is presumably how long they would leave her kin alone.

 

You can't hurt Theodemar, Castien, or anyone from Reinmar. If I die, it is for them.

 

The Bishop was confident that she would not return home in this weather, even with the cloak one of them had given her. Josefina refused to believe that Johann had perished during the fight.

 

Do you begrudge the wolf who eats a deer? If I do not hunt, the hunger would drive me mad. Madder than he. But I still would not die. I cannot die, not by your mortal hands. Stopping was never an option.

 

The delicate snowflakes of the winter flowed through the air around them, landing on her face. The ethereal glow of the moon cast a silvery light over her hollow cheeks, highlighting the spare drops of blood across her temple. 

 

No. I begrudge you, because you know what you are doing. A wolf does not know right from wrong. You do. This is God's deliverance unto me. He is testing my strength and my love for the flock.

 

A brief silence enveloped Jormunharr before he told her to leave. Josefina understood that he had no humanity left, but her words did mean something—and they could be understood.

 

The child granted you mercy, I still might choose not to, if I so wished.

 

I do not care what you wish. Not anymore. You will not find the kindness I had to give to you, ever again. I will never know if I have passed the trial God has put on me.

 

Bishop Josefina turned to walk away, using her longsword as a makeshift cane and draping the offered cloak over her shoulders. Soon, she found a horse in the tundra of Ailmere and mounted it to make her way home. She thought about whether she had heeded her mother's advice from childhood. Although she had not vanquished the undead, she had made a great sacrifice. The Bishop was uncertain if she would return to Reinmar at all, or if she would fall victim to the clutches of death instead. Yet, in the moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the belief that her choices would prove worthwhile.

 

As Josefina journeyed toward Kretzen, her pain became unbearable, and she collapsed on the path leading to the gates of Reinmar. Her eyelashes had frozen, and her lips and face were drained of color. A crimson stain bloomed across her white veil, from when blood had previously seeped out of her severed ear. A hurried servant rushed to help the unconscious woman, carrying her to the clinic and warming her by the fireplace, where she could have her injuries treated and recover.

 

Even near death, her only thought was ensuring the safety of those she cared for, no matter the price she had to pay.

 

---