Yharnam
Outside the Hunter's clinic
Morgraine's attempts at conversation earned little more than impatient, sideways glances from Victor aside from the occasional noncommittal grunt when it felt appropriate, mostly ambiguous enough that it could be interpreted as whatever she had wanted to interpret it as. It was not that Hunters, or servants of the Healing Church in general, did not exist as people, spoke with each other or occupied themselves with other things than working, as Morgraine worried, but rather that Victor was on a mission... and it was a Night of the Hunt...
...and it was difficult to focus his attention on her, for some reason, and even more so for him to interact with, or even be in the presence of, Adelicia. He had not really been close to the blood saint since he had rushed into the Hunter's clinic, but now that they were traveling the streets of their fair city once more, he found her presence far more distracting than when they had traveled to the clinic. He had no idea why, but for some reason he could smell her, and she smelled
delicious. It made his mouth water, just catching her scent on the wind, and he felt his heartbeat quicken whenever his ever-shifting eyes caught sight of her.
He wanted to think that he was feeling towards her, and to some extent Morgraine as well, was just the attraction of a soldier in the field near someone of female persuasion, and did so, willfully and intently ignoring the ever-growing gnawing sensation in his stomach and the burning desire for red meat that had become a primary driving force for him to return to the Cathedral Ward: to eat. He was hungry... so incredibly hungry...
Having locked the door to the clinic with the key discovered inside, Victor lit the censer beside the door, hoping it would dissuade further attacks on the clinic, and cursed inwardly at what he perceived as a failure on his part to convince more of these Hunters to come with him. Granted, his stated mission was simply to escort Adelicia to the clinic and back, but the fact that he had recognized the true nature of this batch of Hunters as being all of the rare, immortal variety, as well as the unspoken objective of using Adelicia's blood to get these immortals addicted and thus ensuring the church's power over them, meant that the true, secret purpose of his mission – one not even Victor himself had been informed about – had mostly failed. Even Morgraine, who was coming along, at least, had not accepted Adelicia's blood and thus eluded the control of the church.
But there would be a time and a place for that. He would have to try to talk to Dietrich when they got back, as surely the First Hunter would know what to do.
The first stop on their journey was the house Draco had mentioned, easily recognizable from its lit censer. These houses were not abandoned, as Morgraine assumed, but rather freshly erected structures to support the explosive expansion of Yharnam and simply not yet inhabited by any of the crowds of people migrating to the city of blood healing. This one house, Victor knew, was where the refugees Draco had been traveling with had gone to hide when they had approached the clinic... and, he had said, where those Yharnamites that had attacked the clinic, and who had tried to kill Victor, had fled.
Victor ignored most of the terrified people in there, at most gracing them with a shove to move them aside so he could continue his search for the culprits from earlier. It was a small house, so the search was brief, and he found the four assailants from before, still bearing the marks he had left on them during their fight, hiding in a closet. They screamed, tried warding him off with their arms, and pleaded for mercy with tear- and blood-streaked faces.
Victor, grumbling about how his clothes were already ruined, was perhaps more brutal in dispatching them than was strictly necessary. Just a bit, though. A smirk had crept its way onto his lips when he left the house again, his bloodlust somewhat sated. He did not envy the poor clods that were eventually moving in here; they would never get the blood off.
The elevator
The sight of the bloodstains at the top of the elevator – quite a few of which were Victor's own blood – reminded the grizzled Hunter of how near death he had managed to come here, too, when the Mad One had ambushed him, Adelicia and Raine. He even recognized the lamppost he had punched in a fit of rage, and momentarily recalled the sensation of his bones breaking on impact and reassembling after.
They rode the elevator down to the bottom, only to find the giant he had left there earlier slain, along with several beasts and a Hunter of the white church. Once again Victor recalled what Draco had said, about how they had come under attack by an “insane Hunter,” and how their escort, Stefan, had been slain in the battle. The marks on the giants and beasts all looked to have been rent by claws, which meshed well with Draco's report that said hostile Hunter had had claws like a beast. Looking around now at all of this death and violence, Victor was in awe; this Hunter, whoever it was, had to be remarkably powerful. He has glad that they were no longer around, but also concerned as to what this Hunter, who had no qualms about slaying Hunters of the Healing Church, and who even seemed to be actively hunting them, would do next.
Victor's attention was drawn to the corpse of Stefan when Morgraine turned him over, glancing curiously at his slain colleague. His front was even worse than his back, it turned out; his face was beaten and bloody, his jaw clearly shattered and loose teeth swimming in half-coagulated blood in the back of his throat. The killing blow, most likely, had been the very conspicuous huge, gaping hole in Stefan's gut, with shredded intestines flopping out as he was turned. This was enough for Victor to raise an eyebrow, but little more, as even without Draco's testimony that a Hunter had been responsible for this carnage, that wound would have been enough to convince Victor: the result of a visceral attack, a Hunter-technique.
Rather than spare any glances at Morgraine, judgmental or not, Victor's attention remained on the corpse as he scurried over and quickly rifled through his pouches and pockets. As he had hoped, the church Hunter had a few supplies left for the taking, and he gleefully looted three blood vials and a couple of quicksilver bullets from the body.
“Sorry, meat,” he muttered under his breath as he pocketed his new acquisitions, “but I need it for the hunt. You'd do the same in my place.”
City streets
It was an incredible relief when they finally, after having to move at a mere brisk walk for what felt like forever, until the last hints of sunlight vanished and the crescent moon had begun its rise upon a starry sky, they got to deposit Adelicia at the shelter. The shelter itself was just a particularly sturdy and large building with a sizable store of incense, of course, where citizens could go to weather the Night of the Hunt. Literally the only reason to leave Adelicia there was to be rid of her... though Victor did hesitate when he sent her inside.
Would these Yharnamites respect her, even without a bodyguard? Would they realize who and what she was? Would they, addicted to blood like every Yharnamite, be tempted to attack the defenseless girl, inexorably drawn to her by the impossible potency of her blood?
But then, just when he was about to change his mind and call her back, a thought stopped him:
Will I do the same thing?The thought disturbed him deeply and silenced his protest before he could speak it. It made him appreciate being able to run, like a Hunter should, all the more; let him vent a little of his nervous energy and served to put more distance between himself and temptation all at once.
The streets were mostly deserted, as was to be expected on not only a night but a Night of the Hunt, but they did encounter a few parties of huntsmen patrolling and Hunters darting in the opposite direction, heading out in search of prey. As they traveled, structures gradually grew denser, bigger, taller and more extravagant, as they delved into the heart of Yharnam where the elite lived, as close to the center of power as possible. Everywhere they looked were lit censers, their pungent smell discouraging any beasts from coming too near yet, though you never knew just how mad these beasts would get when the bells had tolled. All of these people, many of which still had light spilling out of their windows and laughter echoing in the streets, would be defenseless if the beasts grew frenzied enough to push through the incense.
But they had nothing to fear, of course; Vicar Harold had seen to that. The Healing Church had never been stronger, all due to how aggressively they had been creating more Hunters in the five years since the Night of the Blood Moon. With hundreds of Hunters in the streets, there was no way mere beasts would stand a chance.
Lower Cathedral Ward
Indeed, it was not long before they arrived at the outer gates of the lower Cathedral Ward, where most business – and all
official business – was conducted, the great portcullis flanked by yet more church servants, several huntsmen and even another a church giant; a force that even a cleric beast would be mindful about facing. The portcullis opened at their approach, allowing them passage further into the ward, where the city was the densest and most decadent, and where the streets were patrolled by crowds of giants, dogs and huntsmen... where any enemy of the church would meet nothing but a quick end. The safest place in all of Yharnam...
And yet Victor felt uneasy, and kept averting his gaze from these mighty allies of his. Felt that they were a threat to him. He could not wait to finish his business here so he could head out and resume the hunt.
They were not actually going to the namesake Grand Cathedral, of course, as such was no place for Hunters. Instead they went to a different part of the Cathedral Ward, where manors, gardens and extravagance gave way to more spartan, military architecture. In the center of this place, where Hunters roamed in packs, they found a sizable barracks designed almost more as a small fortress, complete with watchtowers and giant cauldrons fit for pouring boiling oil. At the back of this building, furthest away from Victor and Morgraine, the stone pillar of another elevator could be seen stretching from the building towards the city above, the so-called upper Cathedral Ward.
“This is the White Church Hunter's Workshop,” Victor informed Morgraine as they approached, still feeling strangely apprehensive about coming here. “Inside you will find weapons, clothes, supplies... whatever you might need to hunt. Dietrich of the Shining Wing, the First Hunter of the White Healing Church, might also want to talk to you, since you're 'special'.”
One thing Morgraine might notice which Victor did not, interestingly, was that while she had seen Messengers absolutely everywhere – hiding in nooks and crannies, sitting on rooftops and windowsills, playing among grass and flowers and warming their little hands over smoldering censers – there was not a single Messenger in sight here.
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