A building stood apart from the rest. Its base resembled the ruins of a demolished church, with broken slabs of sculpture scattered at its feet. From this wreckage, a colossal black petal rose toward the sky.
The Rose Temple.
Its entrance was choked by thorny shrubs and barbed wire, an unmistakably unwelcoming sight. The gate leading inside was sealed not by locks, but by living briars. Guards stood watch nearby, their hair the dark hue of roses and their metal armor veined with venous black. Together, they resembled flowers in full, terrible bloom.
They stood utterly motionless. Were it not for their human faces, one might have mistaken them for statues shaped like roses.
Beyond the barbed gate lay the temple itself. Its exterior was littered with thousands of shattered statues. For a brief moment, Rosacer thought he had returned to the Weeping Court.
He approached the gate slowly and spoke, "I am a bounty hunter. I am currently seeking information. I was told the Rose Temple provides intelligence."
One of the Rose Guards turned toward him, his gaze piercing. For a heartbeat, Rosacer's hand moved to his gun.
Then the guard spoke in a heavy voice. "Yes. But only for an appropriate exchange."
As he spoke, the guard thrust his hand into the thorn-covered gate and forced it open. Blood streamed from his clenched fist, quickly lapped up by the thirsty thorns.
The gate creaked open, inch by inch.
"Go inside," the other guard said. "Meet the lady at the counter. She will assist the newcomer."
Rosacer gave a faint nod, his eyes lingering on the Rose Guard's hand. It was still bleeding.
He stepped inside, avoiding eye contact as he moved. Without drawing any more attention, he made his way toward the temple.
Slowly, he crossed the front yard and came to stand before the temple gate. This gate bore no thorns. He pushed it open and entered.
The interior was lined with rose scripture and vast paintings. One depicted a woman being born from a rose, only to dissolve back into its petals. The sight sent a subtle shiver through him, recalling the moment he himself had bloomed into a flower at the hands of a floral monster.
"It is nothing," he murmured, steadying himself.
Amid coiling thorns stood a counter, its surface woven from fine rose petals shaped into a table. Behind it sat a woman with dark rose-colored hair, dressed in a black Victorian-era gown.
She looked up at the visitor and offered a small, practiced smile.
Rosacer returned the gesture and stepped closer.
"Welcome to the Rose Temple," she said. "How may I assist you?"
"I am Rosacer, a bounty hunter," he replied. "I am currently searching for a vampire." He produced the parchment. "Does the Rose Temple possess any relevant information?"
"For the exchange of information," she said calmly, "there is a hall to the right. It will lead you to a chamber reserved for such dealings. The individuals there handle these matters."
She paused before adding, "Marcus Leo is today's host."
She smiled once more. "Is there anything else?"
"No," Rosacer replied.
At the mention of Marcus Leo, recognition stirred within him. The Rogue Knight. A man with a bounty of four hundred and fifty vials. Why would such a figure host an exchange within the Rose Temple? He should have remained hidden, buried in some forgotten inn or nameless quarter.
The Rose Temple felt wrong. Unnaturally so.
Doubt crept into his mind, directed now at the old man who had sent him here.
Although the Ananta was proving increasingly unreliable, he considered using it immediately. In the end, he refrained. Drawing upon it here might invite suspicion. Instead, he turned toward the hall on the right, offering a brief word of thanks to the woman at the counter.
He was going to attend the exchange.
Even if he became trapped, as he once had in the Prison of the First Sun, he still possessed the Nightmare Realm at his disposal.
Calling upon the system inwardly, he navigated toward the secret meeting chamber.
"What is the Rose Temple?" he asked.
[An organization established in the Eastern Sector to provide salvation to the fallen.]
He attempted to extract further information, but that was all the system possessed.
Rosacer sighed inwardly. Once again, he found himself at the mercy of chance.
"I hope this time, things resolve themselves," he muttered.
He came to a halt before a closed door. Raising his hand, he knocked.
From the other side, footsteps approached. They were heavy, each step striking like a slow hammer against Rosacer's heart. The steps stopped directly before the door.
Then it opened.
A man stood there, broad-shouldered and solidly built, his frame both powerful and gaunt, as if strength and prowess coexisted within him.
He wore a dark rose-colored suit, paired with a hat adorned with a single rose.
At a glance, Rosacer knew.
This was Marcus Leo.
Marcus spoke the moment he noticed the newcomer. "Welcome, guest. Come inside. The meeting is about to begin."
Rosacer stepped through the doorway.
Inside, a group of armed individuals stood gathered. Weapons were held openly, some cradled with ease, others gripped with restless intent. The place resembled a gathering of fighters more than an exchange of information. For a brief moment, Rosacer's instincts urged him to retreat, but he suppressed the impulse.
'There is no need to be afraid. You are not weak anymore, 'he told himself.
He walked further inside as Marcus closed the door behind them.
Moments later, the meeting commenced.
Participants voiced their demands, and those willing to fulfill them raised their hands in response. Once a match was made, both parties were escorted to a private chamber to negotiate payment and terms.
Rosacer observed closely. Like him, several bounty hunters sought information on for their bounty.
'I hope someone can provide information on the Rogue Knight,' he mused inwardly.
Marcus presided over the proceedings, maintaining order from his seat at the top of the amphitheater-like hall, his presence alone enforcing a fragile peace.
"Who possesses information regarding the current whereabouts of Katrina Sanguine?" a man called out.
He appeared young and scholarly, dressed in khaki trousers and a white shirt, his demeanor ill-suited to the armed crowd.
Rosacer scanned the room.
Only one man raised his hand.
He was elderly, with white hair and the darkest skin among those present. Dressed in a pristine white suit, he lifted his hand without hesitation.
At once, several figures moved.
Like Rosacer, they advanced toward the man, intent on securing the exchange.