The Twice-blessed Paladin

Chapter 20: The Cult's Retreat and Aldric's Next Move

Lord Adrien Falkencrest kneels before Aldric, the weight of his resurrection pressing upon him like a divine decree.

The noble, once a man of logic and control, now understands something greater.

He had died. He had felt the darkness creep in, the silence pulling at his soul.

And yet, he lives.

Not through luck. Not through medicine.

But through Aldric.

Through the will of the Radiant Dawn and the Veiled Reaper.

His hands tremble as he clenches them into fists, pressing them against the stone floor of his study.

"My life belongs to you, my lord," Falkencrest whispers. His voice carries no hesitation, no doubt. Only devotion.

Aldric watches him closely.

It is clear. Those he brings back are not merely returned to life. They are bound.

Falkencrest's loyalty is not one of obligation or gratitude—it is absolute.

Aldric speaks, his voice calm, commanding.

"You will supply me with the wealth, resources, and influence I need to wage war against the cult. You will use your position to extend my reach, ensuring that no door remains closed to me."

Falkencrest bows his head, his devotion unwavering.

"As you command, my lord."

Aldric nods, satisfied.

"Then rise," he orders. "We have much work to do."

Falkencrest stands, his movements steady despite the enormity of his rebirth. There is no lingering fatigue, no weakness. Only certainty.

He is a noble no longer.

He is a servant of Aldric's will.

Across the room, Zira Noctura watches, her expression unreadable.

She, too, was brought back.

Unlike Falkencrest, she had been a servant of the Unseen Father, a blade in the darkness.

Now, she is Aldric's.

The corruption that once twisted her form is gone. The whispers of the cult that had caged her mind are silent.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she is free.

Yet, that freedom does not belong to her.

She kneels, placing her hand over her heart.

"My lord," Zira says softly. "I am yours. Command me."

Aldric steps toward her, watching as she lowers her gaze.

The assassins of the Unseen Father were known to be fanatic, unwavering in their obedience.

But now, her loyalty is no longer to the cult.

It is to him.

Aldric speaks.

"You have no past, no memories to tie you to the life before."

Zira nods. "Only what you have given me, my lord."

"Then you will serve me in the shadows," Aldric commands. "You will be my hidden dagger, my eyes where I cannot see. No cultist will move without us knowing."

She bows lower. "As you command."

Aldric glances at Falkencrest.

"You will ensure she has all she needs," Aldric tells him. "Gold, resources, information."

Falkencrest nods. "She will have access to all the tools of the trade, my lord. And she will remain unseen."

Aldric looks back at Zira.

"You were once their assassin," he states. "Now, you will be their hunter."

A faint smile touches Zira's lips.

"It will be my pleasure, my lord."

Far from Gildan's Reach, in a place where the air does not move and shadows cling like living things, a cult priest kneels.

Before them, the darkness stirs.

A presence looms, vast and unknowable, its form constantly shifting, never quite solid.

The Unseen Father.

The priest bows their head, voice trembling.

"The assassins failed, my lord."

A long silence.

Then, the voice of the Unseen Father—deep, distorted, ancient—fills the chamber.

"I know."

The priest swallows.

"The noble lives. We do not know how, but he survived."

Again, silence.

Then, a low, amused chuckle.

"The Twice-Blessed interferes."

The priest's breath hitches.

"You… you knew he would?"

The shadows shift. A whisper of something far older than words brushes against the priest's mind.

"This war is not over. But now is not the time to strike again."

The priest hesitates.

"You wish for us to… wait?"

The air trembles.

"Yes."

The Unseen Father's presence grows heavier, pressing down on the priest's very soul.

"We will vanish from their sight. We will weave ourselves into the corners of their world, where they least expect us."

The priest bows lower, pressing their forehead to the cold, stone floor.

"And when do we rise again, my lord?"

For a long moment, there is only silence.

Then—a whisper.

"When the world has forgotten to fear us."

Back in Gildan's Reach, Aldric watches as Falkencrest and Zira prepare themselves for their new roles.

Falkencrest will spread his influence throughout the noble circles, securing alliances and ensuring Aldric's plans move unhindered.

Zira will operate from the shadows, eliminating threats before they arise.

Aldric has begun to build something greater.

This is no longer just his fight.

It is a war.

And for the first time, he has the pieces he needs to win.

The cult thinks they are safe.

They think they have escaped his grasp.