Witch Hunt: Despair or Dedication. (pt.4)

The floor creaked softly as the waves gently rocked the freigh like it was a craddle. Still, the black lines on Gunther's baggy eyes told otherwise as his grey irises fixated on the steaming cup of tea as if it had possesed him. Thankfully, there was no spell, only the calming scent of cinnamon that the vapours brought up to soothe his mind.
"Cinnamon tea, that's a bad omen..." The colossal captain pulled out a yellowed chair by the the wooden table and seated himself down infront of Gunther. "If tis' to any relief, the birds brought new words just this morning. Your crew will be granted a second trial around two months from now on."
Gunther grunted in return as he raised the cup to his lips and let the warm liquid course down his dry throat. "What about it?"
"Honestly, I feel like somethin's off. Tis' not like you lads to jump a hurried conclussion, 'specially when lives are at stake." The gentle giant stroked his sweaty brow as he slipped of his tricorn to let the wavy chestnut hair flow out over his shoulders. "What really occured that day?"
A red flash filled Gunther's eyes as he hammered down the cup against the table and sprayed tea all over his leathered gloves. "Damnit Arvid, just leave me to my breakfast." With a sigh, he leaned forth and struck his elbows against the oaken edge while his fingers slowly massaged his temples. "We shouldn't have been there to begin with."
"Look, lad. You know I'll have your back no matter what." The captain took a deep breath through his nose as he looked him over. It was a rare sight to catch the old hunter in such a dark mood but he and Arvid had known each other for too long to not have the northerner recognize that only a miracle could snap him out of it. At least the vessel reached docking in around twenty or so minutes and a change of scenery could do wonders for his troubled spirit. "We'll figure something out, trust me." Arvid finished.
"Sure, whatever." Gunther growled the words out like an angry dog and rose up violently so that his chair fell and crashed against the floor. He couldn't give less of a fuck about it though, as he stumbled over the seat en route for the closest exit. The air was too damn hot and dry inside the ratsnest of a ship and he needed a fresh breather, badly. How come this even happened, we never had an innocent casuality on our hands, ever. He asked himself even though he knew the answer too well. It was the recently appointed Extorter's pride, his inconsidering haste and inability to listen on advice like a normal person who got them all into it. He tried to stop it, they all tried to tell him off, but he just had to itch the trigger.
Gunther latched onto the horribly oiled wheel like it was the damn fools neck. He then yanked the door open with strength that could intimidate a gorilla, while imagining how his hands tore the man's head clean off. It gave no satisfaction though as the large door flew open and a gust of sweet seawater struck his frame. He tensed down as the lively chirping of birds gently sung to the waves calming lullaby. Thats when he saw it in the corner of his eyes. The spearlike tips of the crow infested towers loomed high on it's dark cliffs.
Falconwatch, in all of it's ancient glory still stood firm while the belltower signaled out the ships approach. Short after, the highest spire cast a green alchemical glow over the area that enhanced the vision of every little nook and cranny.
Home at last, Gunther momentarely forgot about his troubles as he leaned against the rafters and thoughtfully gazed over the gray walls and it's dark red vines that crept around the stone. They were beautiful in the light of dawn yet a grim reminder that the last time he visited the keep the growth was green and signaled the birth of summer. Now, colourfull autumn leaves danced it's last waltz before the dusk of winter, and once again the thought to never see his brothers stung like someone twisted a dagger into his heart.
His mind traveled back to the mission again and he could feel his blood boil as he perfectly remebered the scene. The sound of the drawstring going off as the bolt whistled through the air, followed by the tune of metal carving through flesh. The smell of roses, wine and blood. Then, the calmness before a storm as the girl lied still on the ballroom floor, her hood covering the likely empty eyes as crimson fluids stained the black robes wet.
He couldn't help but to shed a single tear for her fate, and her family's. He saw their faces infront of him, back at the court, and then he was reminded of the the stranger’s vicious smirk.
A queer anxiety started to brew within him. It, it couldn't be?
Gunther spun around on his heels to face the sudden scratching sound and found himself staring Grant dead in the pupils.
"Uhhh, the captain told me to check up on you." The boy stuttered a bit in his words and on instinct took a step backwards from the lightning swift movement as Gunther gently stroked his gruff stubble.
"Everything's not quite as it should be..." He mumbled to himself.
Grant raised his eyebrow as he stretched his posture. "Ehrm, what?"
"Fetch my hat please."
The young stagecoach's eyebrows nearly popped off his face, but with a short salute he sprung into action to retrieve it.
Gunther smirked as he turned around and threw a quick glance at the sailors. "Anchor o-hoy!" They shouted as the ship finally reached the moldy and rotten pier. It was a bloody miracle that it held underneath the weigh of the hunters who helped to reel in the vessel, especially so for the large plate adorned commander. Gunther couldn't help but smile bright as he saw his old friend, and nor could the commander as he set his brown eyes at Gunther.
"If it ain't my man Bishops, it wasn't yesterday!" The commander snapped his fingers to form a gun as he grinned bright with the right part of his ever-smirking lips. "Get over here and give your old pal a hug!"
Gunther chuckled and vaulted over the railing and feet first onto the dangerously squeaking docks. For a moment there he was prepared to get soaked but instead found himself in the embrace of his commanders gray coat, followed up with a brotherly hug and a couple of rough pats to his back before he released him. "Damn, man... It's been month's, where have you been?"
"Ulysses, have you not..." Gunther gently bit his tongue and paused as he noticed a glimmer of worry in Ulysses eyes. Clearly, something was afoot and he thought he knew what.
"I guess we have a lot of catching up to do."
"Indeed, I have milks and cookies ready inside." Ulysses spoke the words with a deadpan expression that was solid as rock, all while folding his arms behind his back. With an ever so subtly gesture, he dipped his chin towards someone behind him. Gunther could tell it was Arvid by the large shadow before he heard his booming voice. "Cookies, sounds good to me."
The commander smiled bright again as he turned around and the sun glimmered against his dark bald head. "Well, what are we waiting for then." With hasted steps Gunther followed his friends from the brigg towards an old ashen gate coloured with the crest of an attacking falcon. The carpentry followed a pair of ornate doors that held up a bell in the stone window above, along with a masonry that spotted plenty of holes and crevices designed to snipe intruders from the safety of the cliffside keep. It was better defended than a high security prison, but for him, it was home. Though, no doub that he'd not stay around for long it was like a stone fell out from his chest, and it urged him to figure out what was going on. The sudden codespeech indicated something bad was going on, or someone. And he'd be damned if mourning kept him from protecting what he still had.
Gunther watched intently as Ulysses pushed the gates open to reveal the painted walls and five grand staircases inside the circular room. The pictures of the holy codex on the ground, that spread out with lightrays to portray the grand battles of the hunters of old never failed to drop his chin. The flashing bolts, shimmering swords and flames of righteous fury seemed to almost come alive and greet them.
He wasn't the only one to gasp for breath though, as the heavy breath's of Grant swiftly followed suit as the stagecoach had sprinted to the trio with a heavy pack and Gunther's hat in his hands.
"Wait, master Bishops, you forgot your stuff!"
Gunther took a hold of his hat as Ulysses and Arvid faced him with an exchange of serious nods.
"I've had enough sitting around already." The old hunter looked at the two, before he glanced down to the leatherpiece in his hands. He tugged the brim gently as Ulysses cleared his throat and unfolded a scroll.
"Gunther, old friend. I..." The commander took a deep breath and his eyes were clearly bloodshot as he offered the scripture over. "I failed you, the team. The operation..."
Gunther slapped away the piece of paper before he slowly put on the wide-brimmed hat. "I don't intend to let my brothers rot in a cage as they await Sarak's blasted axe. This witch" Gunther raised his indexfinger aloft his own red blazing face. "She may have won the battle, but I'll give her a fucking war, make her wish she remained in the grave."
Grants eyes darted back and forth between Gunther and Ulysses as Arvid held his breath.
"We... I tried to convince the high Justicius to let us look deeper into it, they threatned to demolish the whole order." Ulysses looked down to the codex as if scanning for another answer.
"When did you ever despair at risks, when innocent lives were at stake, Commander. You always inspired us to fight to the very last drop of blood for justice, especially when no one else could deliver it. You were the very reason I joined in the first place, and I'll be -damned- if we just give up without a fight. Discharge me, send me to give my life for this last hunt." Gunther almost spat the last words out as he steadied his breath to calm down. He didn't know what got into him, but he didn't regret a single word as he saw Ulysses couldn't prevent his lips from turning into a sly grin.
"Meet me in twenty. You'll be heading for Diestria."
Gunther diped his chin as he turned around for the stairs.
"Ohh, and Gunther."
Slowly, he glanced around his shoulder to face the eyes of his old friend once more.
"You're not allowed to die out there."