Id lost everything the second I was a child. My father killed my mother in a fit of drunken rage, and for the next twenty-two years of my life, I was another punching bag for whenever he had his nose in a bottle, which was pretty much always. He was a blacksmith, so with no education, no coin, and no way out, of course I became one too. Scars from boots and fists and shards of glass covered me, and they seemed to become more numerous every year. I was from the South, where worship of Pawns had always been frequent and constant throughout all the villages, including mine. I had never been marked with the signature rune that people from the North had, although I had plenty of other scars besides. Pawns were the closest things to gods that we had, for good or for bad. Maybe someone would save me, if only to plunge me into another hell. By the time the calling rolled around, I was a husk, nothing left of me but a desperate hope for something that would never arrive.
When the emporium rose between the crossroads connecting my village and the neighboring one, I don't know what it was what caused my feet to stumble in it's direction. I had nothing except the clothes on my back. By the time I reached the emporium, stumbling through its marble, iron-wrought gates, I had two stab wounds on my side, a broken ankle, and bleeding, blistered feet.
I collapsed on the steps to the emporium, looking up blearily as a silhouette in a black cloak and a porcelain mask leaned over me. A Bishop.
I forced myself into a kneeling position, my breaths shallow and ragged as my blood dripped onto the marble floor.
"My lady... Forgive me for my... Delay... "
Release Date 2026.04.21 / Last Updated 2026.04.21