ROSES HAVE THORNS-Chapter 103 - Enter The Fortress

"By the way, Kurt." Dominik glanced over his shoulder from the box seat and slid the glass open slightly. "Why’d you take so long to show the guardsman the information he was looking for? Don’t tell me you meant what you said about enjoying the suspense?"

"What? Of course that’s not true. Why would I willingly try and get us in trouble? This mission is too important for me to be messing around. The reason I took so long is because I didn’t know where, or how, to find the cultist’s page."

"Oh. Sorry about that, haha. For some reason I thought you knew."

"I’d like to apologise too." Emelie said as she looked away from her window side. "It completely slipped my mind. But if that’s the case, then how’d you know where to find it?"

Kurt stayed silent for a moment, then shrugged with a casualness that didn’t match the gravity of their situation. "I didn’t," he admitted. "I just pressed down my entire hand at the popup screen and acted like I knew what I was doing. I figured if I did that, I’d hit the right spot by accident. I got lucky."

""...""

"What? It worked, didn’t it? And since it worked, that just means that these cultists are a bunch of incompetent idiots. I mean, what kind of a design flaw is that?" Kurt shrugged.

Dominik slowly closed the front glass and kept looking straight ahead in silence while Emelie froze. She stared at him in utter disbelief with her mouth slightly agape. "You got... lucky? Kurt, if you had missed that mark by an inch, they would have seen that nothing changed. They would have suspected us right there and then. Argh, but then again, you couldn’t have known, so, props to you and your devil’s luck on your quick thinking."

"Haha, thanks. But I’d rather not rely on cheesy luck. Could you show me how to actually pull up the cultist page without me looking like an idiot?"

"It’s right here," she said as she took out her own tag, showing her popup screen and pointing at the top dot of the colon (:) symbol.

"I see..." Kurt copied what Emelie demonstrated to him. He then looked at her and gave a short, grim nod. "Understood. No more luck."

........

Minutes past and the interior of the carriage fell into a concentrated silence. Kurt sat in the shadows, his one good eye tracking the silver streaks of water on the windowpane, while Emelie remained perfectly still, her presence being a quiet figure of pure focus and professionalism.

The steady roll of the wheels abruptly jolted to a stop. From the elevated driver’s bench outside, Dominiks’s voice cut through the storm, distorted by the wind and heavy rain, which was starting to pick up again.

"Kurt! We’ve hit a split!" Dominik roared, banging his fist against the wood of the carriage frame. "There’s a fork in the road and there’s not even a friggin’ sign! Which way?!"

Kurt leaned forward and grabbed their captive by his sodden collar, hauling him toward the light of the small interior lantern. "Talk," Kurt commanded. "Left or right? Which one takes us to the main fortress?"

The man’s teeth chattered so violently he could barely form words. His eyes rolled back in his head, lost in a fog of trauma and confusion. "I... I don’t... the Goddess... the shadows walk..."

"Oh my God..." Kurt cursed under his breath and looked at Emelie. "Has the stress gotten to him or something? He’s speaking a bunch of mambo jumbo again."

Emelie didn’t look at their captive. She was staring straight ahead at the dark wooden door of the carriage; her eyes focused on something far beyond the present moment. She gave a decisive flick of her head.

"Left. Tell Dominik to go left." She whispered.

Kurt nodded and shouted back, "Dom! Left! Mr. Shittypants said the left path leads to the main fortress!"

The carriage lurched as Dominik snapped the reins, the horses neighed as they lugged the heavy vehicle onto the muddy left-hand path.

"Incidentally, what leads to the right path? Tobias’ estate?" Kurt asked Emelie.

"Mmhm."

"I see. Good to know..." He turned away, hiding behind his hood as a wicked smile began to tug on his lips.

Within minutes, the silhouette of the fortress loomed over them like a titan. They pulled into a side structure of the stables where the smell of hay and manure offered a brief reprieve from the rain.

As they stepped out onto the straw-covered floor, Emelie immediately took charge. She grabbed the captive’s arm with a grip of iron. "Let me lead," she said, her tone tolerating no room for argument. "Stay two paces behind. Don’t speak unless I signal."

Dominik leaned toward Kurt as they followed her toward the front entrance of the fortress, his voice a low hiss. "She’s wound tighter than a crossbow string, isn’t she? Must be anxious about saving those kids. I’ve never seen her this... enthusiastic. Not even when we went to rescue those women from that goblin island."

"She knows what’s at stake, Dom." Kurt nodded, though his expression remained guarded.

In truth, Kurt knew something Dominik didn’t. Emelie wasn’t just anxious; she was navigating a map burned into her soul through multiple lifetimes. As a regressor, she must’ve walked this path countless times before. To Dominik, she was a brave comrade; to Kurt, she was a woman haunting her own past.

Finally, they reached the massive, iron-banded wooden doors of the fortress’s entrance. "Keep your hoods low," Emelie instructed. "Act invisible. We are shadows in the peripheral. Just a bunch of low tier goons. If you don’t look like a threat, they won’t see one."

She placed her palms flat against the heavy oak. Kurt saw the faint, green shimmer of telekinetic magic ripple through her fingertips. There was no sound of a turning key or a sliding bolt. Only the creak of wood as the doors swung inward of their own accord.

They stepped into the heart of the lion.

Before them lay a massive open courtyard, a surreal paradise hidden behind grim stone walls. Lush green grass sparkled under the lantern light, surrounding a meticulously kept garden and a black-water pond. Stone benches were tucked into quiet alcoves, and in the very center stood a towering, white-marble statue of Goddess Bula, her stone eyes weeping rainwater. Stone hallways stretched out from the courtyard like the legs of a spider, leading into the dark recesses of the complex.

They began to move along the left-hand stone pathway, their boots clicking softly on the masonry. They were passing a heavy door when it suddenly flew open, crashing against the wall.

Two hooded cultists stepped out. The woman was mid-rant, her voice high with irritation. "—this awful rain! I can’t conduct the ritual, I can’t walk the grounds, I’m stuck inside listening to the walls groan!"

Her male companion sighed as he adjusted his robes. "It is the Will of the Goddess, Sister. Perhaps she is weeping for the brothers we recently lost."

"Hm?" The female cultist stopped mid-stride. Her eyes snapped to the four cloaked figures trying to slip past. "You there! Stop!"

’Great.’ Kurt thought as a cold knot formed in his stomach. They all stopped walking, keeping their heads bowed low and their faces lost in the shadows of their hoods.

The woman marched up to them, her boots clicking aggressively. She reached out and snatched the hood off the person closest to her. Kurt.

She froze. Her initial anger evaporated, replaced by a slow, predatory curiosity. She looked over Kurt’s eyepatch, her gaze lingering on the line of his jaw. A sly, dangerous smile spread across her lips. "Well now... I haven’t seen this face before. A new devotee?"

"That’s right, Sister," Kurt said, dropping his voice into a humble drone. "Just arrived tonight."

"Is that so? Let me see your tag."

Kurt reached into his cloak, his heart hammering as he imbued magic into it and pressed the specific area that Emelie had shown him.

"Kurt Rosanna, huh?" The woman’s smile widened. She reached out, catching his chin between her fingers and tilting his head back. "Fresh meat with such passionate eyes. Or I guess, eye. Hahaha. I like that. You... follow me."

"I’m afraid I’m busy, Sister," Kurt said, his voice straining to remain polite.

"Busy with what?" she purred.

"Sightseeing," he blurted out. "Getting my bearings of the grounds."

"Then you’re in luck," she said as her grip on his chin tightened slightly. "I’ll personally show you around. It’s important for a new brother to know the... private sectors."

Kurt looked desperately toward Dominik and Emelie. "Can my friends come? They’re new too."

"No," she snapped, looking back at her male companion. "Brother Thomas will show the rest of your ’pack’ to the common quarters. You belong to me for the hour."

Kurt realised that arguing further would draw the very attention Emelie had warned against. He caught Emelie’s eye; she gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

’Godammit. Is this really the right thing to do? But what choice do I have?’

"Fine," Kurt muttered.

The woman led him back through the door she had emerged from, leaving the others behind with the male cultist known as Thomas. As they walked through a series of wide, torch-lit corridors, she began to chatter.

"Why did a man like you join a dying cause like this anyway? Was it the promise of salvation? Or perhaps did our ’Glorious Leader’ somehow coerce you into joining our empathetic cause?"

’Empathetic? The hell? You call letting goblins rape women and killing children empathetic?’

"I follow Bishop Tobias’ vision," Kurt said neutrally, trying his best to mask his anger.

She clicked her tongue in disgust. "Tobias is an incompetent fool. Lately, he has been ruining the lives of many of our brethren. Now, he locked himself in his estate doing who knows what. If the Goddess can hear my prayers, I honestly hope that they’ll send him back to the Sanctuary. I truly am beginning to bear ill will against him"

’The Sanctuary? Sounds important. I’ll keep a mental note of that.’

Kurt also noted the internal strife, a crack in the foundation they could exploit later, but he kept his focus. "Will I see the children soon? I was told that they will be used as an example to teach the... blasphemous members of the church to not use the Goddess’ name in vain. That treacherous ’prophecy’ truly leaves a sour taste in my mouth."

"The children?" she laughed, a dark, melodic sound. "Yes, eventually. However, we have more important matters to attend to." She said, stopping before a heavy, reinforced door at the end of the hall. "And that starts with your own initiation."

She stepped behind him, her hands sliding over his shoulders. Before he could react, she pulled his hood down over his eyes, blinding him. "Don’t peek. It ruins the surprise."

She guided him into the room. Kurt heard the heavy door thud shut, followed by the unmistakable, mechanical click of a deadbolt locking them in.

’Oh no...’

After waiting for her signal and hearing the sounds of what seemed to be clothes rustling, she finally whispered in his ear, "You can look now," before walking away.

Kurt pulled the hood back. He wasn’t in a chapel or a barracks. He was in a room draped in black silk and red velvet. Chains hung from the ceiling, and a variety of wicked-looking instruments lined the walls. The woman was no longer in her cultist robes. She sat on a large, black bed, dressed in skimpy, leather-bound dominatrix gear that left very little to the imagination.

"Drop the clothes," she commanded, dropping her voice into a husky growl. "Let’s see what the Goddess provided."