Chapter 26: Ruined Water Temple
Emilio
The templar rode through old forest in no particular hurry. The sun beat down through breaks in the canopy making the inside of his Maraium armor humid and him increasingly aware of how heavy it was. Sir Emilio Arand hoped that there would be some relief in the shade of the Northern forest but it was only slightly cooler. He wanted to pull his helmet off to let some of the heat out but he was riding towards rumored elf territory and did not want to get caught by some vile spell. His mentors at the temple had warned him of the dangers of elven forests. The Word was supposedly stronger in the wilder places despite the damage that the elves had inflicted on the world by harnessing the sacred magic.
He had fought and killed enough mages and elves to know that keeping as much of his body covered by his Maraium plate was vital to staying alive against a wielder of the Word. He glanced through the grating of his visor with wide movements to get a better understanding of his location. It looked benign enough, it was like every other forest he'd seen- full of ancient pines and yews on the brink of spring. Birds carried on their afternoon chorus above him and there was the rustling of small game off in the underbrush. His temple dog whined softly as it lazily followed alongside the horse.
It was peaceful and he wondered why he even bothered with the damn thing. He searched for some unnatural or intimidating presence. At least with aphotics, he could feel that there was something wrong. With elves, there was no telling until they were upon you but they at least bled like natural things should. After a long moment of consideration, he reached up and touched the side of the helmet, waiting for something to strike him down for daring to go against his teachings.
Never remove your helmet, it will protect you from all magic especially elven illusions, their glamour. His mentors had beaten it into his skull like the other initiates, though he heard that his friend had been blessed with a strength of clarity that he could forgo the rigors of the process. Emilio was never that blessed, he wondered, idly, what Markos had gotten up to these days. He was different from the smiling, easygoing young man he'd grown up with. Emilio hadn't thought it possible, but rumor had it that Sir Markos Louvel was rolling around with an ember. All he'd been taught about embers was that touching them was dangerous because of what they could do. The Markos he knew was respectful of the dogma and social status, but it seemed even for the most steadfast among their order, divine inspiration only went so far in the face of baser pursuits and lovely breasts.
His hand lingered on his helmet as his caramel colored horse plodded through the underbrush with a huff. His dog sniffed at a bush. He heard the birdsong more clearly and decided to remove his helmet. The buckles easily pulled free and Emilio set the helmet over the horn of the saddle in front of him. Sweat beaded his brow and drenched the collar of his gambeson. He glanced upwards, uttering a soft prayer of thanks for deliverance from the confining device.
He ruffled his dark brown hair and wiped the sweat from his amber colored eyes. "Let's find some water, Bolstead, Bill." Emilio took firmer hold of the reins, urging his stallion, Bolstead, into a trot towards the distant rush of a river.
Bill's ears perked at the sound of his name, letting out a happy bark before he bounded after them.
The moldy librarians of the Fleur had found in an ancient scroll that there a weapon of some magical importance located in some dilapidated elven lake temple in this area. It sounded like a Nan's tale but he could not argue with his orders. Find the lake temple, investigate the ruins and recover the weapon, if there was one.
Emilio mentally went through his kit to establish that he was ready for the task: his rifle was loaded with anti-mage shot and his sword was well maintained, and for the most part, he was still protected by the Maraium plate and the grace of Teiwaz, which was more for his soul than his body against an elf's magic. Bolstead was a war mount and Bill was a fine example of a Temple Dog when the situation presented itself.
A light breeze brought him added relief as they rode until they reached the babbling of a river that widened into a crystalline lake. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun reflecting from the gently rippling surface. Across the lake, he saw deer grazing at the water's edge. Fish were jumping in shadowed waters and marring the center of the mirror-like surface jutting upward in an emerald tangle was a small island, overgrown with vegetation. He squinted and noticed there was a glittering within the green, what he suspected was a brass roof of a temple. He did not, however, see a way from the shore to the island from here.
He frowned and dismounted from his saddle, leading Bolstead to the water. Bill sniffed the air and ran past them into the water, splashing playfully in the cool water. Emilio wanted to be annoyed but Bill had the right of it. If he wanted to get to the island, unless he found a path over, he would have to swim it. The armor didn't rust but it was not pleasant to try to stay afloat in something that was not meant to. The Temple had trained them for it and he had hated it, sand getting trapped inside of plate mail was only one of a multitude of reasons for why it was a bad idea to go into any body of water.
Let the damn dog enjoy the water. This is as good a time as any to rest for a few minutes and eat. Whatever was actually inside of that temple could hold until he was ready for it. His gaze moved from Bill back to the island and he lowered his hand. With luck, there would be only cobwebs and regular spiders to greet him in those ruins. His mind wandered to thoughts of nymphs and nereids with a smirk. He thought better of it and retrieved his helmet, tucking it under his armor. Better to have it nearby.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone