Spies, Brawlers, Gunslingers, and Swordsworn.
The Sisters of the Heavenly Fire are ladies of dubious origins, gathered under the command of Mother Superior Ione. They are the lost ones. Former slaves, cast off concubines, pit fighters, orphans, cur...
Instructor Valeris paused at the door, raising a brow at the awe on her charges's face. "Ladies, the Archangel awaits."
Ramona held her breath as she stepped off the ramp, her footsteps hollow and weighted until they hit the plush carpeting of the Archangel's interior, a scalloped dove gray that complimented the finely upholstered chairs and bench that made up the interior of the first car compartment.
"Please be seated. We shall discuss matters once we are underway," said Instructor Valeris. She walked around them, pausing at the opaque wooden door between cars and rapped her knuckles on the door.
Ramona jumped at the outside door slid shut with a soft hiss. The entire compartment jolted, rattling the glass decanter of water on the bolted service table. She collapsed beside Agnes on a long cushioned bench as the train lurched forward, the scuttle and grind of turning wheels drowning out everything else until the train gained momentum, sliding into a low buzz. Ramona stared out at the curtained windows, watching the train yard sail by as they picked up speed, until the land outside began to blur, moving so fast her eyes couldn't track it. She felt the pull in her stomach, through her feet. Her eyes were glued to the flashing landscape outside when Instructor Valeris cleared her throat.
Ramona forced herself to look at their instructor. The slightest twitch of her lips revealed the woman's amusement.
"First time on a train, Sister Ramona?"
The girl gulped and nodded. The scrolling scenery tugged at the corner of her vision. The speed, the gentle rocking of the train, the elaborate interior, she found all of it fascinating.
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"I promise you, it will not be your last time. Not by a long shot," the Instructor said, unfolding a sheath of thick vellum parchment on the table between them. "We are heading to the city state of Allomar. Rumor has it, there was a sword brought to the local blacksmith of unknown origins for routine repairs. The make up and craftsmanship of the weapon was so unusual the local authorities contacted the supposed owner of the sword. It was revealed the man obtained it through grave robbery. This man is to be hung on the morrow for his crimes."
She glanced up at her charges, studying their puzzled faces. "There are whispers he stole other weapons from these unknown crypts, possibly one of divine origins. If true, he plans to take the knowledge to the grave. Our time line is tight, Sisters. We must gleam what information we can before he meets the hangman's noose."
Ramona frowned. "Hung for grave robbery? That seems extreme. Even in the capital, thieves are jailed for a few years at most."
Instructor Valeris gave a small nod. "Yes, it does, doesn't it? I will caution you now, my doves, the laws of Allomar will seem strict and uneven as they come. The local lord has a tyrannical reputation and the city state is on edge from a recent bout of Shills."
The mention of the plague-like illness slid down Ramona's spine like the tip of a razor. She'd never seen a case, her village was cut off from the rest of the world enough to avoid it, but the rumors were enough to turn the stomach. It was spoken of in hushed tones, a sickness that covered the body in vicious necrotic sores, as if they were decaying alive from inside out. It was always fatal, and the cure was both expensive and near impossible to concoct without a highly skilled alchemist.
