William hadn't been exaggerating. They had been tracking those shimmering silver footprints for nearly two hours, and the city of Ypsistis was now nothing more than a orange glow on the horizon behind them.
The sky was a bruised, starless black. The cobblestones had given way to a rutted dirt road, flanked by lonely wooden shacks that looked like they were one stiff breeze away from collapsing.
Lou sat behind William on the horse, trying his best not to fall off while his brain processed the lecture he was receiving.
He'd managed to piece together the basics.
Spirit Hunters.
According to William, they were "awakened" humans, people who could tap into a hidden reserve of spirit energy to hunt down entities like the Lady in White.
"All humans have it," William had explained, his voice steady over the rhythm of the hooves. "But only a fraction are ever aware of it, let alone capable of weaponizing it."
"So... does that mean I'm 'awakened' too?" Lou asked, the word feeling strange on his tongue.
"Yes. A rare breed, too. You're a Seer."
"A Seer? Like a crystal-ball oracle?"
William glanced back, his mustache twitching. "Tell me, do you see glimpses of things that haven't happened? Do your dreams come into reality?"
"I saw Albert's head get crushed this morning," Lou said, his voice flat. "Exactly how it happened."
"Then there's no doubt. Seers are the eyes of our kind. The powerful ones can peer into the deep past or the distant future, and they're the only ones who can sniff out a spirit's unique signature. Like those footprints you're tracking right now."
"But you aren't one?"
William shook his head. "No. I'm a Combat Type. It's like this, I'm the sword, you're the map."
It makes sense, Lou thought,Standard RPG party mechanics. He's the DPS, I'm the Support/Tracker. But wait... if he can't see the future, how did he know to camp out at the bakery?
"You knew the Lady was going to show up," Lou pressed. "You were waiting for her. How?"
William's smile was grim. "Another Seer told me. She predicted a Death Spirit would claim an old man at the bakery. Unfortunately, she's... not in any condition to be out in the field right now."
"Wait....she gave you the exact day? The exact time?" Lou asked, his heart skipping a beat.
"She said sunset. Today."
Okay, that's a problem,Klaus's visions were like raw footage with the timestamp cut off. This other Seer has the full HD schedule. There's a power gap here I need to worry about.
"I was careless," William continued, his grip tightening on the reins. "Like you, I couldn't stop the event. The least I can do now is take down that Death Spirit... and its Summoner."
"A Summoner?" Lou's eyes widened. "You mean someone sent that thing to kill Albert?"
William's smile didn't reach his eyes this time. "You're about to find out, lad. We're getting close. There's a lot of rot in this world you haven't smelled yet."
This has officially spiraled. What started as a "supernatural cleanup" is now a full-blown homicide investigation. But the motive is a total blank. Why target Albert? Why waste a high-level hit on a guy who was already aged and close to death? It doesn't track.
"The footprints are getting brighter," Lou said, his voice dropping to a whisper. The silver glow was pulsing now, almost vibrating against the dark earth.
"Good. We're right on top of her," William replied.
Good? Lou's mind recoiled. What's 'good' about walking into the literal jaws of death?
But then he looked at William. The man wasn't even sweating. He was as composed as a guy checking his watch for a train. It was unnerving, but it was also the only thing keeping Lou from bolting back to the city.
He acts like this is just another Tuesday at the office. Either he's that good, or he's completely insane.
"Isn't this... you know, incredibly dangerous?" Lou asked, gripping the saddle.
"It is. But it's nothing I can't handle. I'm betting our Lady in White is a Grade 4 Spirit. Maybe a 3 on a bad day."
Grade 4?Ranking systems. Of course. The monsters gotta have a hierarchy.
"Everything will come to light soon," William muttered, more to himself than to Lou.
"Take a sharp left there," Lou directed, pointing toward a narrow, overgrown pathway that veered off the main road.
William nudged the horse, and they crunched through the dry brush until a small, sagging wooden cottage loomed out of the darkness.
It looked abandoned, with ivy choking the walls and a roof that bowed in the middle like a broken spine.
"The footprints..." Lou swallowed hard, his eyes tracking the silver light. "They lead right to the door. They stop there."
William dismounted in one fluid.
"That means we've reached the end of the line," William said. "Stay behind me, lad. Things are about to get loud."
"I'm… I'm coming too?" Lou asked, his voice cracking like a dry twig.
William paused, one foot already on the dirt path. "Unless you'd rather stay out here and guard the horse in the dark? Pretty sure the wolves in these woods don't care much for 'Seer' status."
Lou didn't need to be told twice. He slid off the horse, his legs feeling like jelly. "If I go in there with you, can you actually guarantee I won't end up like Albert? Head-smear on the floor?"
William turned, his expression suddenly grave. "There are very few Seers left in our ranks, Klaus. That's why you're special. I'll do everything in my power to keep you breathing. I'd sooner die myself than let a talent like yours be snuffed out. I swear it by the Supreme God."
Lou felt a flicker of genuine relief. The 'Tank' is swearing an oath on the highest tier of the Holy Trinity. That's a binding contract in this world. I'll take it.
William reached into his waistband and pulled out a heavy, polished Flintlock Pistol. The wood was dark, the brass fittings gleaming even in the moonlight.
This was an officer's weapon, or something a wealthy merchant would carry to fend off highwaymen.
He handed it to Lou. "Just in case things go sideways. Keep your finger off the trigger until you mean it."
A gun. Finally, some real loot, Lou thought, his fingers curling around the cold grip. But it's a flintlock. One shot, a cloud of smoke, and then a thirty-second reload while the monster eats my face. Better than nothing, I guess, but I really miss modern magazines right now.
"Stay close," William whispered.
They crept toward the cottage. The silence was absolute, broken only by the crunch of dry grass under their boots.
As they reached the small clearing, the moonlight hit the porch, revealing a figure slumped on the doorstep.
It was a man, his head buried in his hands, radiating a deep, suffocating depression. He looked up as they approached, his eyes bloodshot and hollowing out.
He didn't reach for a weapon or even stand up. He just studied their faces with a haunting sort of hope.
"You're the messengers, aren't you?" the man asked, his voice raspy.
William and Lou exchanged a sharp, confused glance. Messengers?
"You've come to bring the word of my father's passing," the man continued, his bottom lip trembling. "He's dead, isn't he? The old man... he finally found his peace?"
Lou felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. Wait. Albert? This is the son? The one who had the 'falling out' over the marriage?
____________
A/N:The pistol William handed Lou is a mid-17th century flintlock. In this era, guns aren't the "point and spray" weapons of modern cinema.
It uses a piece of flint striking steel to create a spark that ignites gunpowder. It's loud, smoky, and prone to misfiring in the damp Ypsistis air.
You get one shot. If you miss, you're looking at a 20-to-30 second reload process involving powder horns, ramrods, and lead balls.
For Lou, holding this is like holding a loud, heavy club that might go off if he's lucky.