RD 4 Ch 46

Gloria and a team of three dozen Mul Branova managed to track the raiders all the way back to their camp. Although the word camp was being generous.

The place looked as if it could have been put together by giant toddlers the way everything was precariously stacked. The entire camp was made of lean-tos that largely resembled ripped-out walls and aluminum roofs propped up with whatever they could find. There was little organization beyond how the people were segregated. Women, children, or otherwise weak and who looked as if they'd been plucked straight out of an office, only to be thrown out on the streets like beggars, they were huddled, cowering amongst themselves.

Meanwhile, those with grim determination in their eyes were far more plump and seemed particularly happy with the present situation. Then again, Gloria could imagine exactly why they were so pleased with the situation, given that they were now in power. 

She held a hand up for the Mul Branova to stop.

They had run hard for over three hours to discover the raiders. Along the way, they had encountered more than a few burnt-out buildings, likely those who had encountered the raiders before they had reached the walls of the Citadel.

"Mistress, what do we do?" One of the Mul Branova stood, crouched beside her, anxiety plainly written on her face. Yet none of them were panting from the hard run that had covered ground far beyond human capabilities.

"Just ask yourself, what would Bran do?" Gloria said slowly. "I need you all to ask yourselves what you want him to find you doing when he gets back. Will it be cleaning up scum like this, or will it be hiding away in your little Citadel of Blood, with the knowledge that people like this are out here?" She gestured. "Not only do I see people that need help, but I see people that need a purpose. They may not be able to become Mul Branova, but perhaps they could worship Bran and help us grow more secure at the Citadel." Her words sank into all of them and their eyes began to shine red with fervor.

Gloria was almost perturbed at the way that using Bran as a focus for these ladies made all of them suddenly eager to kill. There was a disturbing level of loyalty from them. She didn't fully understand it, and she suspected she never would. After all, most of the women were borderline insane. Zealots she’d call them and they’d probably celebrate the name.

These women lived entirely for their lord Bran, and through the very nature of their worship, Saintess Simone, worship was an incredibly powerful connection. To literally watch a religion spark up before her was unsettling, to say the least. 

One of the Mul Branova pulled a bow from her spatial ring, and the action rippled through the group as they drew their weapons. 

"Perhaps all of them could be some use?" One of them spoke quickly, and Gloria let a sigh of relief escape her. Perhaps they weren't all entirely crazy. "I don't think they're strong enough that we have to kill them. Perhaps we could capture them and turn them into conscripts for Lord Bran's army." 

That idea got the rest of them excited, their eyes glowing again.

Gloria closed her eyes, knowing while she had some influence over these ladies, too often, they were lost in their own machinations.

They at least looked to her before rushing in, waiting until Gloria gave them a nod.

“Go, capture all you can. Kill those who won’t yield.” She said.

Just like that, three dozen Mul Branova jumped from where they had been hiding, swarming the camp.

Gloria stepped out, ready for her fire to do considerable damage, but paused as she noticed the large amount of dry, brittle wood around the area. She paused and cursed, realizing that if she let loose, she would undoubtedly burn this entire place down and undo all of their efforts to rescue people from this horrid situation. 

In her hesitation, the Mul Branova swept in and attacked. Their blades and maces dove straight for the grim men, smashing joints and severing tendons as they swept across the enemy group.

Disturbingly many of them would lick blood off their weapons or straight from an enemies veins only to experience a surge of strength. All of them were nearly unkillable as they clashed in melee with the raiders. What attacks managed to break the skin were healed quickly.

Rather than using her fire offensively, Gloria instead used it to make barriers. When the opponents threatened the Mul Branova with powerful ranged abilities, her purple fire leapt up and clashed with lightning and water, saving more than a few of the over-eager zealots from being focused on by a barrage from their enemies.

True to their word, the Mul Branova didn't kill. However, they brutally maimed and crippled anyone who held a weapon.

Gloria could already imagine them putting the men back together once they were successfully cowed. She could only shake her head as the Mul Branova tore them apart with practiced ease. She had felt like many of them were too green for something like this mission.

However, their actions proved her completely wrong. It seemed Simone’s training was harsher than Gloria had realized. They didn’t even flinch before smashing knees and hurling men twenty feet into the air.

One of the Mul Branova picked up a raider, lifting him high over her head before she brought him down back first, straight into her knee. The man let out a silent cry that barely squeaked out of his throat as he bent backwards at an angle that ensured very little was still where it was supposed to be. She then tossed him to the side. 

"Please wait. We will pick you up and deliver you to our lord Bran soon enough," One of the Mul Branova said with glee in her red and white outfit before zipping through the crowd.

Gloria thought the Nestor's men knew how to lead with brutality to send a message, but the Mul Branova had apparently invented more brutality than even the Mafia Family knew.

One of their bruisers had made the trip with her and hung back turning to her with a stunned expression.

“What?” Gloria asked.

“I thought they were just pretty ladies for Lord Bran.” He said sounding unsure of himself.

“I guess they are, but roses are more thorns than petals. Don’t forget that and let the other men know not to fuck with them. I really don’t want to have to break up a fight if someone disrespects them.” Gloria stared the man down.

He just nodded and swallowed around a lump in his throat, turning back to watch the women in red and white habits tossing grown men around like they were stuffed animals.

The battle felt long, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes before everything settled. There were about a hundred men groaning painfully on the ground while the beautiful Mul Branova checked over each other's robes, inspecting them for blood or tears that would need to be repaired.

Because apparently that was more concerning to them than the moaning men.

"How did we do, Mistress Gloria?" One of them stepped up and bowed low. If Bran had been with them, he certainly would have enjoyed the view. 

"Not bad," Gloria said, folding her arms behind her back and refusing to be impressed to their faces. Still, apparently her words were enough, as that devotee and the rest all beamed and began bouncing with excitement. 

"All right," one of them turned. "Who wants to be the battery?" One of them grudgingly raised a hand. She then dipped her head in almost prayer and stepped towards the center of the group.

Gloria watched with rapt attention, not entirely sure what they were doing. Their actual combat training was largely Simone’s who likely pulled ideas from Bran when she had him at her mercy.

They began to organize in what looked like a healing ceremony. They formed around the raiders' prisoners and the crippled raiders, the Mul Branova began casting crimson streams about the width of a finger from themselves into the prisoners. The longer they cast, the more pallid their skin became, until they would take a break and another finger-width red would stream from the battery, as they had called the one, into those who were healing.

Gloria watched what was happening with fascination. Bran had a similar ability, but often he was the one who needed healing rather than giving it.

Apparently, the New Devotees of Bran were not powerful enough to keep the health regeneration up for long, so they were using one amongst them as the battery. She sat down, bowed in prayer, and appeared to be regenerating her health far faster than the rest or maybe hers was a higher rank. Whatever she was doing, it was allowing them to heal dozens of the captives with only short breaks in between. 

One of the devotees smiled at the captives who were struggling to come to terms with their present situation. "Praise to Lord Bran," she spoke with a brilliant smile, her blonde curly locks framing her face with a few splashes of blood at the tips and making her look like a bloody angel amid the apocalypse. 

"Who is Lord Bran?" one of the captors asked hesitantly. 

"He is our Lord, and over in Vein City there are thousands of my sisters and I who worship him and keep order. While many of you don't seem the type to pick up a weapon," she said, somehow managing not to sound judgmental, "there are more than fighters needed in this new world. The Cit…," she hesitated. 

Gloria knew she was about to say Citadel of Blood, but at least had the wherewithal to realize it was not a good way to introduce someone. Only for the Mul Branova, who were all hard at work healing, to crack their eyes open, glancing at their fellow, for which she continued, "the Citadel of Blood has room for many more. Never mind its fierce name. It's named because Lord Bran's power comes from blood and as his worshippers we’ve been granted a portion of his power." 

A teenage boy with cracked spectacles pushed them up on his nose. "Are you all like vampire brides or something?" 

The Mul Branova stopped what they were doing, looking amongst themselves with smiles on their faces. "Something like that. Though with significantly less blood drinking."

Gloria groaned. "This has gone on far enough." She stepped forward, her arms crossed. "Ignore them, they can be a little crazy. I’m Gloria Nestor of the Nestor Family. Given the complete lack of leadership, we and the Mul Branova have taken over Vein City. You're welcome to come with us or, I don't know, stick around with this lot." Gloria gestured at the raiders who were either sobbing or passed out on the ground.

"Though, actually, that's not an option either now that I think about it. The Mul Branova, the lovely ladies here, are going to be taking them and putting them to work back at the Citadel. So, you can stay behind on your own." Gloria clarified. 

One of the young women stood up. "You're no better than them. How dare you treat them like prisoners?" However, her words only caused her own people to turn at her strangely. 

"What?" She shouted at all of them as if they were the crazy ones. "Just because they did bad things doesn't mean we can treat them like they aren't human." 

Gloria shrugged. "Honestly letting them work for us was our more merciful answer. Original plan was just to kill them all off." 

One of the raiders gasped. "I'll work, I'll work!" 

Gloria gestured in his direction. "See? Great option. And it's not like we're going to let a violent neighbor fester in our backyard. The only reason we found you is because they sent a couple hundred people knocking on our fortress. They did not have good intentions or a good ending." 

The lady who had protested, gasped. "Wait, you mean..." 

"Oh yeah, that group that left is largely dead. There weren't many survivors before we started the questioning, and I don't think they were allowed to live afterwards. My offer is safety in Vein City but you have to pull your weight. Take it or leave it.” Gloria folded her arms.

Many of the older folks pulled themselves up by whatever lingering desire that they had, moving closer to Gloria and the rest of the Mul Branova. 

"You guys can't go. They're slavers," the woman shouted. "What if it were you being put into whatever horrid labor camp they're going to put these people?" 

An old man stopped partway walking and turned back to her. "Dear, I think it's a new world and new rules. I didn't fight in two wars only to let a group of homegrown thugs be my end. Civilization is gone." The old man gestured broadly to the horizon where there were once buildings. Now stood scrapped ruins of whatever small town this had once been. In the backdrop was the giant red beam piercing up to the sky and dyeing the surrounding clouds red, casting an ominous hue over the land. "I for one will do what it takes to survive and I won't raise a hand against anyone until they've raised theirs against me." 

"An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind," the woman spat. 

One of the Mul Branova spoke up, her voice cheerier than the rest of the discussion. "Good thing we can heal and regenerate our own eyes. I think at the end of the day, we won't be the ones left blind." 

Gloria shook her head and gestured for people to start moving. Given the low levels across the group, it was going to be a long trek. She only hoped they were worth the effort.