//------------------------------// // Chapter XXVIII // Story: Papa Gehrman // by SolidArc5542 //------------------------------// Gehrman wiped the tiny drops of sweat that had rolled down his head away, while he bent over and grabbed the hold of the Crystal Heart. Taking one last look at Sombra’s body, he gave it a quick glare before turning around and running towards the palace. His fight was over, but Spike’s fight was about to begin. With the loss of that much blood one can only wonder how long Spike will stay alive. Gehrman could not help but take a quick glance at Gascoigne’s body as he reached one of the palace’s pillars and entered it. While it was true that Gascoigne was at fault here, having struck down Spike with no regret or remorse afterwards was something only a man who had lost it all would have done, Gehrman still felt that he was at fault too. What would have happened if he had not rolled out of the way and had actually blocked Gascoigne’s attack? Would Spike still have gotten hurt? Would someone else have gotten hurt instead? While these thoughts roamed through his mind, Gehrman had only one main objective to keep all his attention on. Getting the Crystal Heart back to Cadance and saving Spike. “This could have all been prevented,” Gehrman said to himself, letting out a long sigh of defeat. “Had I not tried to reason with Gascoigne things would have gone differently.” ‘And yet here you are. Victorious once more.’ Gehrman stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you still here, Oedon? What have you to gain from all of this? Your true goals lay in Yharnam, not here. You have already overtaken my city, or rather, your kind and their twisted blood has. Do not let the same fate overcome this peaceful land. They have done nothing wrong.” ‘Are you implying the human residence of Yharnam were at fault all those years ago, then?’ Oedon asked. “We were all at fault, Oedon. Master Willem sought knowledge and discovered the Eldritch Truth. Laurence wanted to lift humanity into its next state of evolution and he discovered the Old Blood. I sought… I sought for a purpose in life and obtained one. We were all at fault, Oedon. Every last one of us who took the Old Blood and viewed it as a miracle send down to Earth by the God’s themselves,” Gehrman replied, his grip around the Crystal Heart tightening. ‘So even the people who heard the tales of Yharnam and their ‘miracle’ were at fault? People who sought to cure themselves or their loved ones from diseases and curses. Who wanted nothing more than to be happy and live their lives in peace? Are you implying that even the innocent are at fault, First Hunter? I do not share this opinion, nor do I dismiss it. However you cannot judge a book by its cover, as you humans say. Everyone has their own reason for doing what they did. Even Gascoigne who so foolishly followed Sombra’s every order did so because he had his own reasons,’ Oedon replied. “And what were the fool’s reasons, then?” Gehrman asked, receiving a grim chuckle from Oedon. ‘I will leave that for you to ponder on, First Hunter,’ Oedon replied. ‘However know that it was not for power, or for some kind of revenge.’ “So I am to guess what his reasons where?” Gehrman asked, anger clearly present in his voice as he narrowed his eyes. “Does your kind view our existence as some kind of game? Your kind has done nothing but bring death to our soil!” ‘And yet it was humanity’s curiosity that lead to their upcoming demise. You humans always try and put the blame on others, thinking that you did nothing wrong while in reality you were always at fault. The mistake of one man can have dire consequences for thousands of others. As you have seen firsthand. Laurence brought death. Master Willem brought death. And even you brought death. Humans, Great Ones, we are all at fault,’ Oedon replied calmly. “But it… it was your blood that--.” ‘It was our blood that caused all of this, yes. But it was the blood thirst of man that drove them into becoming beasts. That drove them into madness. Innocent lives have been lost because of your curiosity and my kin’s blood. Like I said: We are all at fault here. Every last one of us yearns for the sweet release of death, even though we do not admit it.’ Oedon cut Gehrman off. As much as he hated to admit it, Oedon had a valid point. Humanity… no, Gehrman, Laurence, and Master Willem. They were the ones who made the mistake that caused thousands to suffer. There is more blood on their hands than any other resident of Yharnam. Even the most skilled hunters did not shed a much blood as they did. He found it rather funny how the mistakes of three men would cause humanity to crumble. And what’s worse is that eventually someone would take their place. ‘And yet,’ Oedon said, a hint of compassion in his voice. ‘I pity them.’ “Pity who?” Gehrman asked as he quickly made his way upstairs, not wanting to let Cadance and the others to wait any longer. ‘All of you,’ Oedon replied. ‘You humans are a fascinating race. You viewed us as Gods, and yet at the same time you humans trained to defeat your Gods. And even when everything seems lost you still find a way to prevail. Whether you believe in your Gods, or have another goal set in your mind, you always find a way to overcome any challenge. And this might also be the reason my kin fears you so much.’ That caught Gehrman off guard. “Fear us? Why would your kin fear us? We call you Great Ones for a reason.” ‘And yet most of them were killed in one night,’ Oedon retorted. ‘And it was another human who did it. I watched him from the moment he got his transfusion. You did a fine job in guiding and training him, First Hunter.’ Gehrman raised an eyebrow in confusion while having reached the entrance to the upper level of the palace. “I am sorry, but I do not know who you are talking about,” he lied, secretly hoping Oedon would drop the subject. ‘Ah, so you feel pity for the young hunter who defeated you, do you not? Well you should not. He did what he thought was right. He gained enough insight to see the truth. He chose to free you from your dream—or rather your nightmare. Do you not feel grateful for what he has done?’ Oedon asked. “The young man was a fool,” Gehrman replied, shaking his head. “But this world would not be complete without fools like him. Only a fool would accept the burden of another person. Let alone a person responsible for the deaths of so many innocent lives.” Gehrman waited for a reply from Oedon, but was surprised when he got none. Deciding to ignore this the First Hunter sprinted towards the throne room… It was a rather comforting feeling, knowing you would be freed from a never-ending nightmare. Yharnam was a nightmare on its own, but the hunt made things worse than they already were. But still people traveled from afar, doing their best to reach the city were man could perform miracles. And Gascoigne was no exception. Gascoigne watched as his wife, daughters, and their grandfather happily sat near a nearby lake, laughing and enjoying each other’s company while staring off into the horizon to see the sunset. Gascoigne could not help but smile when he brought a hand to his face to wipe a lock of hair out of his eyes. Clad in regular clothing consisting of a dark tailcoat and trousers with a dark waistcoat, a white bow tie, and a shirt with a winged collar. His wife was wearing a white dress and her hair was let loose to reveal her beauty in its fullest. Her eyes were as beautiful as the stars themselves, and he could stare into those orbs for hours and not get bored. Gascoigne felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head, only for him to smile at the person that stood beside him. He was wearing round glasses, a large white cassock with blue trim and interior, grey trousers, black boots, a black shirt with blue trim, white gloves, and a silver cross that hung around his neck. The man gave a small nod to Gascoigne before speaking up. “I see you’re enjoying yourself, Father,” the man said in a rather thick accent that seemed to resemble that of a Scottish person, which resulted in him earning a nod from Gascoigne. “Indeed I am, Father Anderson,” Gascoigne replied. “They all look rather happy, lass,” Anderson said, running a hand through his short spiky blond hair. “Aren’t you happy too?” Gascoigne let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I am afraid the situation has gotten worse.” “Have you tried praying?” Anderson asked. “Too often,” Gascoigne replied, holding his head in thought. “I have been praying every night for her to get better, but it seems that it is not working.” “We could ask Father--.” “She’s sick, Anderson,” Gascoigne cut him off, glaring at him intensely. “She needs a doctor. Medicine! I can’t keep praying over and over again in the hopes my prayers will be received and answered! She hasn’t had a good night sleep in days, Anderson. There is no other way… I… I must leave. I must leave this place behind and travel to foreign soil.” Gascoigne let out a long sigh before continuing. “I am at a loss here. Leaving would mean abandoning the church and abandoning God himself. But my wife… I love her, and I will do anything in my power to protect her. Anderson, please, I beg of you, help me.” “Remember, Gascoigne, that we are servants of God. We are instruments of His will and His will alone. Leaving means abandoning the church, not the Lord. For he will always be with you, watching over you as you stare into the deepest dark of the Abyss itself. For as long as you live He will be at your side,” Anderson replied, placing his hand firmly on Gascoigne’s shoulder. “You mustn’t let you fears consume you. If you wish to cure your wife then leave. Leave for that foreign soil.” “Leave so that you may set foot in Yharnam, city of miracles.” The plague swept across Yharnam at dusk with such force, much of the populace that had been outside were immediately affected by the sickness. The people descended into madness, attacking and mercilessly killing anyone they saw were not afflicted by it. A Hunter knew their duty: the beasts would not stop unless they were disposed of, lest they allowed the land to fall into a deep and disparaging tomb. His axe was met with many beasts since he was separated from his partner, but he remembered the Hunt. He remembered his duty. As the heavy weapon he wielded tore beasts apart limb by limb, he knew slowly the very fabrics of his mind were slowly slipping through his very own fingers. He couldn't figure out whose hand they belonged to, but he knew there was a song that would play and he would remember. That song would play, he would remember his dear wife and daughters. ‘You bloody fool.’ That was a voice he did not recognize nor remember during this hunt. He remembered the screams of woman and children, the agonizing roars of anger coming from the Yharnamites as they rallied and walked through the streets of Yharnam with meat cleavers and torches in their hands. Their intent was to kill, and so was his. He did not remember much from the hunts, but he did remember a song. But days had passed and the song didn't play, it faded from his mind and he began smiling as he cut down more of the beasts, blood-stained garb hanging stiffly from his tired, aching body. Blood began to smell like rose petals on a warm spring afternoon and the axe was as light as a feather, it became a part of him and his hunt. They never stood still or free of blood for more than a mere few moments. Beasts were just beasts; violent creatures that needed to be struck down. Many of the beasts in Central Yharnam looked the same to him—grimy, hairy, and noisy. A few had a paler complexion than most and even screamed differently but their blood was just the same shade of red. He didn't feel satisfied, though. He knew there were more beasts out there in Yharnam, and he knew that he had to hunt. The night had barely begun, the beasts would begin to show themselves and come out of hiding to greet the night with an unnatural joy. Perhaps he was becoming one of them, a giddy feeling would wash over him each time he cut one down. ‘That will do for now.’ A loud, yet menacing voice echoed through the area where Gascoigne was standing. Time seemed to freeze for the Church hunter. Just then, seemingly out of thin air, another person appeared. Gascoigne could barely turn his head to see who was walking towards him. His eyes widened, though the bandages covering them concealed that. What he saw was… himself? Gascoigne raised an eyebrow in confusion at the sight of a duplicate of himself. ‘It is good to see you, Father Gascoigne, husband to Viola and father to—‘ “Oedon!” Gascoigne roared in anger as he finally regained some control over his body. “Where are you?! Show yourself this instant! Why am I back in Yharnam? And why is there another person here that looks exactly like me?” he asked, clearly enraged at the formless Great One. ‘That is not another person you fool. That is you. This is nothing more than a memory. Things that have long passed—or in your case, passed a few days. You have suffered enough, so I will show you mercy. You will see what you have become, what has happened to your loved ones… and you will serve me and do my bidding. Only then will you finally be able to die,’ Oedon replied. ‘It is time you saw the era of your mistakes and stop blaming others for said mistakes.’ “It better be worth my time,” Gascoigne spat at Oedon. ‘Believe me, it will be. Servant of God,’ Oedon replied in a rather grim sounding tone.