Happy Holidays, Greywolfheir! (Part 1)
Title: The Quest
Recipient: Greywolfheir
Rating: T/PG-13 (?)
Word Count: 39,418
Summary: Human Medieval AU. Aziraphale and Crowley get roped into a problem in the nearby village. One thing leads to another, and before they know it, they're heading off on an exciting - and life threatening - quest.
Characters: Aziraphale (Adrian Ziraphale), Crowley (Antonius Crowley), Madame Tracy (Madame Thea), Shadwell (Stanimir), Anathema (Aldreda), Newt (Norman), The Them, OCs
Notes: Thanks to vulgarweed for agreeing to beta this, and to my RP friends for helping me when I was stuck on how to write certain phrases. And to Greywolfheir, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Warnings: Some violence, but none of it is graphic. One mention of blood. A character talks about an abusive parent for a couple of paragraphs. Some near death experiences.
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Aziraphale sat on the wooden floor, his eyes glued to the book. He worked at his uncle’s church, and helped out with various tasks. He had just finished up his work for the day, and decided to reward himself by picking a book off of the bookshelf, going into one of the spare rooms, and reading it.
All of a sudden, one of the other church workers, a short young man, burst into the room. “Mr. Ziraphale.”
Aziraphale marked his page before standing up and approaching the man. “Yes?”
He thankfully decided not to point out how he was just sitting on the floor and said, “We have a problem, sir. Some men showed up, saying they’ve caught a crook.”
Aziraphale sighed. Occasionally someone who was caught red handed would get brought to the church so judgement could be passed. He usually didn’t get involved with these ones, given that they were out of his domain. However, Father Martin, the leader of the church, had gone out for some errands, and the workers had chosen him as the unofficial backup. “Go outside and make sure they don’t cause any more trouble. I’ll join you later.”
The man nodded and walked out. Aziraphale put his book back on the shelf before walking outside and seeing what the ruckus was all about.
Three tall and buff men were walking towards the church, dragging another man along with them. The one being dragged appeared to be slimmer than the others, and dark hair made it difficult to see his face. He did not appear to be happy, and could be heard muttering obscenities under his breath. Eventually two of the men pushed him to the ground, and he fell down to his knees.
Aziraphale looked at the men and asked, “Who is this man, and why have you brought him here?”
One of the men that was dragging the person looked at him and said, “Sir, we found this suspicious person climbing out the back window of a nearby house. When we confronted him, we discovered that he had a sack full of stolen coins. We returned the money, and have brought him here so that you may decide his punishment.”
The figure looked up, and Aziraphale immediately recognized who it was. He then looked back at the men and said in a serious tone, “Thank you. You have been a great help.” The three men bowed and he continued. “I will bring him into the church and talk with him there. You three are dismissed for now.”
The three men bowed again and left in different directions. When they were out of sight, Aziraphale grabbed the person by the arm and dragged him into the church room that he was in earlier. He closed the door and, after making sure no one was eavesdropping, turned to face the person and said, “Hello, Antonius. What have you been up to?”
“I told you, the name’s Crowley.” He looked Aziraphale up and down and said, “So now you’re dealing with criminals, huh? My, angel, you have grown.”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley and said, “My name’s Adrian. You know that.”
“I know, but I prefer the term ‘angel.’ Seems more fitting for you.”
Aziraphale huffed. Crowley had been calling him that since they first met, and despite many corrections and explanations on how he was not an angel, the nickname stuck. He decided to change the subject. “And for the record: No, I haven’t. Father Martin’s just doing errands, and I’ve taken over for him in the meanwhile.” He then turned to the matter at hand. “So I hear that you were seen sneaking into people’s houses and stealing money. Mind to tell me what that’s all about?”
Crowley put on the best ‘I’m innocent’ look that he could muster and said, “What do you mean? I wasn’t stealing the money. I was merely…borrowing it.”
“Really?” Aziraphale gave him an accusing look. “And when were you planning to return it?”
“I don’t know,” Crowley said, putting his hands up. “Perhaps within the next thirty or forty years.”
Aziraphale sighed and said, “Really, my dear, you should stay out of trouble. You’re lucky that I went out to see you, and not one of the other workers. Otherwise, you would been a lot worse off.”
Crowley rolled his golden brown eyes, something that annoyed Aziraphale, and sighed out, “Yeah, I suppose I can try. No promises, though.”
Aziraphale smiled at this, and was about to say more when he noticed how Crowley was constantly sticking his hand into his pocket. He asked, “What is in your pocket?”
A brief look of panic flashed across Crowley’s face, but he managed to cover it quickly. “It’s nothing, angel. Don’t worry.” When Aziraphale continued looking at him, Crowley sighed and pulled out his hand, which held a dead mouse. “Okay, fine, I was carrying this.”
Aziraphale inwardly recoiled at the sight of the dead mouse, but was able to keep it from showing on his exterior. “Really, my dear? A dead mouse? What were you going to do with it?”
At this question, Crowley just shrugged. “I don’t know. I found it while I was out walking. I figured I could use it to freak people out. You know, give them a good scare.”
Aziraphale looked like he was going to start chastising again, but at that moment, the same man from before burst in. “Mr. Ziraphale, sir,” he began, but upon seeing Crowley, hesitated. “Er…”
“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, doing his best to stay patient with all the interruptions.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But there is an important meeting going on in the town center right now. I was informed to fetch you and bring you there.”
“Can it wait a little longer?” Aziraphale asked, barely repressing a sigh. He ran a hand through his curly hair. “I’m talking to someone right now, and I’d prefer to not be interrupted.”
“I understand that, but this is urgent. Father Martin has returned with two messengers, and he says that they bear important news.”
Aziraphale turned serious at this new bit of information. “Okay, I’ll be right over.”
Crowley looked between the two and said, “Should I be going, or…”
The two of them looked at him, and Aziraphale said, “No it’s fine. In fact, I think you should come with us, as the news could affect you.” He addressed the worker. “If that’s okay.”
He appeared discomforted by this, but said, “I don’t see why he can’t come.”
This was a relief to Aziraphale, and he said, “Very well then. Let us head off.”
On that note, the three of them left the church and began walking to the village center. Not much was said, as neither Crowley nor the worker felt comfortable talking to each other, and Aziraphale didn’t want to make things more awkward by forcing a conversation.
The three of them eventually arrived at the village center. Apparently the news of the meeting spread fast, as all of the villagers had gathered together, talking among themselves about what could possibly be happening. At the front of the crowd, two men could be easily seen sitting on horses. One was taller and had dark brown hair, while the other one was shorter and had light brown hair. They were talking to a tall, middle aged man that had curly hair similar to Aziraphale. The man looked over and spotted the trio.
He made his way towards them and said to Aziraphale, “Adrian, I’m glad you made it.”
“It is good to see you too, Father,” Aziraphale replied, maintaining a professional air. “Do you, by any chance, know what this meeting is about?”
Father Martin opened his mouth to answer when the taller of the two men raised his voice and called out to the people, “Attention, village people. We come here bearing important news. The two of us have just arrived here from the adjacent village, and we bring with us these urgent calls for help: many of the villagers there have fallen ill.”
This was followed by a collective gasp, and Aziraphale was about to ask Father Martin a question when he held up one finger, signaling to be silent.
The man who started talking paused for a moment before continuing on. “The villagers there who have not fallen ill are doing all they can in order to help. Unfortunately, it appears that their pursuits have been futile, as the disease shows no sign of letting up on its victims.”
At this point, the shorter man took over. “The villagers who remained untouched by this horrible disease asked that we come over here and recruit some people to travel there so that they may help out. Their numbers are dwindling, and if they do not get assistance soon then the people may very well die.”
All the villagers remained silent, not wanting to volunteer on this seemingly hopeless quest, nor wanting to risk contracting the disease themselves. The first man was calling out to people, asking if anyone would be willing to partake in this brave and noble task.
Then, from out of nowhere, Father Martin walked to the front and said, “I will go.”
The villagers started murmuring among themselves. The taller messenger looked over and said, “Very well, then. We have our first volunteer. Does anyone else wish to go?”
Aziraphale was shocked when he heard this. He rushed up to Father Martin and whispered urgently, “Father, are you sure about this? The village is far away, and it will be difficult to travel there for you. Besides, who will watch over the church while you are gone?”
Father Martin placed a reassuring hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and said, “At ease, Adrian. I trust that you will do a good job of watching over the church. Yes, the journey will be very hard for me, but I am willing to endure that for the sake of the villagers.”
Unfortunately Aziraphale could not be calmed. Voice rising, he said, “But you are still susceptible to the illness. If you fall ill, then what shall we do? No, I can’t risk that happening. I won’t. If it is a helper that these men want, then let me go instead!”
The villagers gave another collective gasp at that. Aziraphale didn’t even realize that he was shouting until he heard the man on the horse say, “What is this I hear? Do we have another volunteer?”
Aziraphale froze up at this, but he didn’t want to back down. He then turned to look at the messengers and said in a quiet but firm tone. “I wish to go in place of Father Martin.”
The first messenger smiled. “Excellent. An energetic young man will be perfect for the job. And he works at the church, too. Splendid. We still, however, need some more volunteers.”
Murmurings in the crowd continue. Although they viewed Aziraphale’s offering to go as noble and honorable, they were reluctant to follow in his footsteps.
Meanwhile, Crowley had squeezed his way through the crowd and whispered to Aziraphale, “Angel, what do you think you’re doing? Are you mad?”
Aziraphale flinched slightly and whispered back, “I know what I’m doing. This is a good opportunity for me to help others out and to get out of the village.”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. Just let someone else deal with it.”
Whether it happened because Crowley was too loud, he happened to be in the front, or fate was in a bad mood is not known. The second messenger’s head whipped round, and Crowley found himself being stared down at. “And who, may I ask, is this?”
Crowley stepped forward a bit and, looking directly at the man, said, “My name is Antonius Crowley, more commonly known as Crowley, as well as ‘serpent’ to others.”
Some of the villagers started whispering, hearing the name. “Ah, yes. Antonius Crowley. I knew your father. He was a respectable man right up until he, well, you know…”
Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was clenching and unclenching his fists and decided to step in, “Yes, this is Anto - I mean Crowley. He’s....a friendly acquaintance of mine.”
He didn’t catch Crowley’s reaction, but he clearly noted the condensation of the messenger as he nodded and said, “I see. I wouldn’t have expected an honorable churchman like you to associate with the likes of him.”
Hearing this caused Aziraphale to go on the defense. He straightened up and said, “That is my job as a churchman: to help the people and assist them through thick and thin, regardless of class or social status.”
“I see,” the messenger repeated, not losing his air of condensation. “So you’re saying that you help talk him through his problems?”
“Yes, I have done that on a number of occasions.”
A man behind him, who was one of the men dragging Crowley earlier, decided to pipe up and said, “Yeah, earlier today we busted him for stealing. And not for the first time, I might add.”
Crowley turned and sent a burning glare at the man. Meanwhile, the first messenger, who had been listening to the exchange, raised his eyebrow. “So you’ve befriended a crook? Seems like...unusual behavior for a churchman, wouldn’t you say?”
Aziraphale hesitated and said, “Well...I wouldn’t call him that…although I do keep telling him to stop being so troublesome, as it causes many unnecessary problems.”
The messenger smiled, although it contained neither friendliness or warmth. “So you’re saying you wish he would just keep his nose out of trouble?”
“Oh, certainly. I would like it very much.”
The smile widened. “Well in that case, why don’t we have him go with you?”
At this, Aziraphale and Crowley both exclaimed, “What!?” while the villagers gasped.
After a few breaths, Aziraphale regained his bearings and said in a calmer voice, “Your honor, I don’t understand. Why…why would you…?”
“I know what you are all probably thinking,” the first messenger interrupted. “Why would I have someone like him sent on a mission of this scale of importance?” He paused before continuing. “Well, it will be a good punishment for him. Balance out his many bad deeds with one large good deed. Besides, he won’t be alone. He has a churchman that can go with him.” And make sure he doesn’t cause more trouble. Although this wasn’t said, it was clearly implied.
All of the villagers gave murmurings of approval. This didn’t seem too bad to them. It would be a good character lesson for Crowley, and it’s not like he didn’t have Aziraphale to monitor him. And although they would never admit it, they thought that if something were to happen to someone, better it not be a respected citizen.
“Perfect. We have our volunteers, and we shall set off to the village tomorrow when the sun rises. The meeting is over. Everyone is dismissed.” On this note, the two messengers turned around and headed away from the large crowd.
The crowd slowly dispersed, people heading back to their usual everyday lives. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones still there. Ever since the first messenger made his startling announcement, Aziraphale had made a point to not look at Crowley. When the suspense became too much, he turned to look at him, and felt his stomach drop.
Crowley’s face was a mask of different emotions, with anger appearing to be the most prominent layer. He said in a slow and barely controlled tone, “Unbelievable.”
Aziraphale swallowed, and said thickly, “Crowley...I...I’m…”
“Don’t,” Crowley cut in, shaking his head. “Just...just don’t.”
Aziraphale stood there, not saying anything. Without another word, Crowley turned and stalked away, not turning back. Silence shrouded the town center, and before long the sky began to darken. This helped to bring Aziraphale back to reality, and he morosely made his way home.
It was early in the morning, and the sun had barely even risen. The first rays of sunlight shone through the slits of the window, signaling to Aziraphale that it was time to get up. Slowly, he climbed off of the bed and made his way to the chest in the corner. He needed to pack his belongings, and since they were only going to be there for a few days tops, he decided that he wanted to pack lightly. Not too long afterward, he was prepared, having packed a set of clothes, a map, a lantern and firesteel, and some money. It was then that he thought that there was no harm in packing a book, as they might get some off time.
He was so absorbed in packing that he didn’t notice that Father Martin had entered the room until he said, “So you were serious? You actually are going?”
Aziraphale turned around and said, “Yeah. I am going. Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all,” Father Martin replied. “It’s just...I remember when you first came here.”
“Yeah,” Aziraphale said. “That was some time ago.”
“You were so young then. Probably only seven or eight years old. I remember when your parents brought you here all those years ago. Your father, specifically, said that he wanted you to work here at the church so that you could learn about helping people. I told him that I would be your teacher, and personally oversaw your training. You were a quick learner, and very skilled, too. Unfortunately, you also had your head in the clouds, or should I say, the books. You sometimes spent so much time with your books that you wouldn’t notice you had a person to talk to unless I or someone else alerted you. That was actually one of the reasons your father sent you here, so that you may work rather than spend all your time reading.”
He then paused for a moment before putting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “But look at you now, at how much you’ve grown. You’re heading off to another village in order to help out all these people. Even though the situation seems hopeless, you don’t let that stop you, but instead keep up your integrity. For that, I am proud you.”
Aziraphale swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Thanks, Father. That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” Father Martin noticed the packed bag he was holding and said. “I see you are all prepared, correct?” A single nod. “Before you go, I will give you a prayer.”
“Okay, then.” Aziraphale lowered his head, and Father Martin placed a hand on it.
“The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.”
After he removed his hand, Aziraphale said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Father Martin said with a smile. “Remember that prayer, it will help you throughout your journey.”
Aziraphale gave a small bow before walking out of the room and the front door. He took one last look at the house before he headed towards the village center.
Around the same time, Crowley was sleeping in his room. His room was on the second floor of the village tavern, and only contained a bed with a chest at the foot. Since there was no window, Crowley had no idea that it was dawn until a knock on the door from the tavern owner told him it was time to get up.
“M’up,” Crowley muttered sleepily. He sluggishly climbed out of bed and stretched his legs. He then slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, where a few of the regulars had already started to gather.
“Hey, ‘ntonius,” one of the regulars shouted, the effect of alcohol already reflecting in his speech patterns. He was a tall man with dirty blonde hair and equally dirty clothes. “Sleep well, last night? You excited for the big day?”
“Walter, it is way too early for you to start drinking,” Crowley said, rubbing his forehead. “And if you must know, I slept okay last night. And I have no idea what you mean by ‘big day’.”
“Well, duh, your trip with church boy?” one of the other regulars shouted, this one sounding much more sober. He was also tall, but had brown hair and more presentable attire.
Crowley halted and asked, “Where did you hear that from?”
He shrugged and said, “News travels. Anyways, it’s going to be great, eh? Just the two of you, travelling to some faraway land to save some helpless sick people. It’s like a fairy tale.”
This was followed by some jeers from the less sober regulars. Phrases like “Ooooh” and “‘ntonius and church boy, eh” as well as the sound of drinks sloshing could be heard.
Crowley rolled his eyes, but took no mind to what they said. “The village isn’t some mystical fairyland, and I doubt the sick people are helpless. Also I’m not going with just the angel -” He stopped himself too late.
“Ah, a nickname,” the one named Walter said. “That’s so hear-heart-heartwa-cute.”
Crowley scoffed at this, although he was glad he was on the stairs. “Whatever. I’ll just go and prepare myself for this ‘fairy tale quest’ - as you call it - while you all drink yourselves silly. If you’re lucky, you might see unicorns before noon, or at least before you pass out.”
Crowley walked back up to his room, ignoring the jeers and remarks of the three below. There wasn’t much to pack, as he had little, and before long he was ready to go.
Another knock at the door. Without looking up, Crowley said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The door opened, and Crowley heard footsteps as the person entered the room. Exasperated, he said, “If someone made a mess again, tell Beatrice to clean it. It’s her job.”
“Right, it’s her job to clean up messes. Just like it seems like it’s your job to make them.”
Hearing the voice, Crowley spun around to face the intruder. Immediately, his face shifted, and he said in a heavy voice, “You…”
NEXT PART
Recipient: Greywolfheir
Rating: T/PG-13 (?)
Word Count: 39,418
Summary: Human Medieval AU. Aziraphale and Crowley get roped into a problem in the nearby village. One thing leads to another, and before they know it, they're heading off on an exciting - and life threatening - quest.
Characters: Aziraphale (Adrian Ziraphale), Crowley (Antonius Crowley), Madame Tracy (Madame Thea), Shadwell (Stanimir), Anathema (Aldreda), Newt (Norman), The Them, OCs
Notes: Thanks to vulgarweed for agreeing to beta this, and to my RP friends for helping me when I was stuck on how to write certain phrases. And to Greywolfheir, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Warnings: Some violence, but none of it is graphic. One mention of blood. A character talks about an abusive parent for a couple of paragraphs. Some near death experiences.
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Aziraphale sat on the wooden floor, his eyes glued to the book. He worked at his uncle’s church, and helped out with various tasks. He had just finished up his work for the day, and decided to reward himself by picking a book off of the bookshelf, going into one of the spare rooms, and reading it.
All of a sudden, one of the other church workers, a short young man, burst into the room. “Mr. Ziraphale.”
Aziraphale marked his page before standing up and approaching the man. “Yes?”
He thankfully decided not to point out how he was just sitting on the floor and said, “We have a problem, sir. Some men showed up, saying they’ve caught a crook.”
Aziraphale sighed. Occasionally someone who was caught red handed would get brought to the church so judgement could be passed. He usually didn’t get involved with these ones, given that they were out of his domain. However, Father Martin, the leader of the church, had gone out for some errands, and the workers had chosen him as the unofficial backup. “Go outside and make sure they don’t cause any more trouble. I’ll join you later.”
The man nodded and walked out. Aziraphale put his book back on the shelf before walking outside and seeing what the ruckus was all about.
Three tall and buff men were walking towards the church, dragging another man along with them. The one being dragged appeared to be slimmer than the others, and dark hair made it difficult to see his face. He did not appear to be happy, and could be heard muttering obscenities under his breath. Eventually two of the men pushed him to the ground, and he fell down to his knees.
Aziraphale looked at the men and asked, “Who is this man, and why have you brought him here?”
One of the men that was dragging the person looked at him and said, “Sir, we found this suspicious person climbing out the back window of a nearby house. When we confronted him, we discovered that he had a sack full of stolen coins. We returned the money, and have brought him here so that you may decide his punishment.”
The figure looked up, and Aziraphale immediately recognized who it was. He then looked back at the men and said in a serious tone, “Thank you. You have been a great help.” The three men bowed and he continued. “I will bring him into the church and talk with him there. You three are dismissed for now.”
The three men bowed again and left in different directions. When they were out of sight, Aziraphale grabbed the person by the arm and dragged him into the church room that he was in earlier. He closed the door and, after making sure no one was eavesdropping, turned to face the person and said, “Hello, Antonius. What have you been up to?”
“I told you, the name’s Crowley.” He looked Aziraphale up and down and said, “So now you’re dealing with criminals, huh? My, angel, you have grown.”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley and said, “My name’s Adrian. You know that.”
“I know, but I prefer the term ‘angel.’ Seems more fitting for you.”
Aziraphale huffed. Crowley had been calling him that since they first met, and despite many corrections and explanations on how he was not an angel, the nickname stuck. He decided to change the subject. “And for the record: No, I haven’t. Father Martin’s just doing errands, and I’ve taken over for him in the meanwhile.” He then turned to the matter at hand. “So I hear that you were seen sneaking into people’s houses and stealing money. Mind to tell me what that’s all about?”
Crowley put on the best ‘I’m innocent’ look that he could muster and said, “What do you mean? I wasn’t stealing the money. I was merely…borrowing it.”
“Really?” Aziraphale gave him an accusing look. “And when were you planning to return it?”
“I don’t know,” Crowley said, putting his hands up. “Perhaps within the next thirty or forty years.”
Aziraphale sighed and said, “Really, my dear, you should stay out of trouble. You’re lucky that I went out to see you, and not one of the other workers. Otherwise, you would been a lot worse off.”
Crowley rolled his golden brown eyes, something that annoyed Aziraphale, and sighed out, “Yeah, I suppose I can try. No promises, though.”
Aziraphale smiled at this, and was about to say more when he noticed how Crowley was constantly sticking his hand into his pocket. He asked, “What is in your pocket?”
A brief look of panic flashed across Crowley’s face, but he managed to cover it quickly. “It’s nothing, angel. Don’t worry.” When Aziraphale continued looking at him, Crowley sighed and pulled out his hand, which held a dead mouse. “Okay, fine, I was carrying this.”
Aziraphale inwardly recoiled at the sight of the dead mouse, but was able to keep it from showing on his exterior. “Really, my dear? A dead mouse? What were you going to do with it?”
At this question, Crowley just shrugged. “I don’t know. I found it while I was out walking. I figured I could use it to freak people out. You know, give them a good scare.”
Aziraphale looked like he was going to start chastising again, but at that moment, the same man from before burst in. “Mr. Ziraphale, sir,” he began, but upon seeing Crowley, hesitated. “Er…”
“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, doing his best to stay patient with all the interruptions.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But there is an important meeting going on in the town center right now. I was informed to fetch you and bring you there.”
“Can it wait a little longer?” Aziraphale asked, barely repressing a sigh. He ran a hand through his curly hair. “I’m talking to someone right now, and I’d prefer to not be interrupted.”
“I understand that, but this is urgent. Father Martin has returned with two messengers, and he says that they bear important news.”
Aziraphale turned serious at this new bit of information. “Okay, I’ll be right over.”
Crowley looked between the two and said, “Should I be going, or…”
The two of them looked at him, and Aziraphale said, “No it’s fine. In fact, I think you should come with us, as the news could affect you.” He addressed the worker. “If that’s okay.”
He appeared discomforted by this, but said, “I don’t see why he can’t come.”
This was a relief to Aziraphale, and he said, “Very well then. Let us head off.”
On that note, the three of them left the church and began walking to the village center. Not much was said, as neither Crowley nor the worker felt comfortable talking to each other, and Aziraphale didn’t want to make things more awkward by forcing a conversation.
The three of them eventually arrived at the village center. Apparently the news of the meeting spread fast, as all of the villagers had gathered together, talking among themselves about what could possibly be happening. At the front of the crowd, two men could be easily seen sitting on horses. One was taller and had dark brown hair, while the other one was shorter and had light brown hair. They were talking to a tall, middle aged man that had curly hair similar to Aziraphale. The man looked over and spotted the trio.
He made his way towards them and said to Aziraphale, “Adrian, I’m glad you made it.”
“It is good to see you too, Father,” Aziraphale replied, maintaining a professional air. “Do you, by any chance, know what this meeting is about?”
Father Martin opened his mouth to answer when the taller of the two men raised his voice and called out to the people, “Attention, village people. We come here bearing important news. The two of us have just arrived here from the adjacent village, and we bring with us these urgent calls for help: many of the villagers there have fallen ill.”
This was followed by a collective gasp, and Aziraphale was about to ask Father Martin a question when he held up one finger, signaling to be silent.
The man who started talking paused for a moment before continuing on. “The villagers there who have not fallen ill are doing all they can in order to help. Unfortunately, it appears that their pursuits have been futile, as the disease shows no sign of letting up on its victims.”
At this point, the shorter man took over. “The villagers who remained untouched by this horrible disease asked that we come over here and recruit some people to travel there so that they may help out. Their numbers are dwindling, and if they do not get assistance soon then the people may very well die.”
All the villagers remained silent, not wanting to volunteer on this seemingly hopeless quest, nor wanting to risk contracting the disease themselves. The first man was calling out to people, asking if anyone would be willing to partake in this brave and noble task.
Then, from out of nowhere, Father Martin walked to the front and said, “I will go.”
The villagers started murmuring among themselves. The taller messenger looked over and said, “Very well, then. We have our first volunteer. Does anyone else wish to go?”
Aziraphale was shocked when he heard this. He rushed up to Father Martin and whispered urgently, “Father, are you sure about this? The village is far away, and it will be difficult to travel there for you. Besides, who will watch over the church while you are gone?”
Father Martin placed a reassuring hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and said, “At ease, Adrian. I trust that you will do a good job of watching over the church. Yes, the journey will be very hard for me, but I am willing to endure that for the sake of the villagers.”
Unfortunately Aziraphale could not be calmed. Voice rising, he said, “But you are still susceptible to the illness. If you fall ill, then what shall we do? No, I can’t risk that happening. I won’t. If it is a helper that these men want, then let me go instead!”
The villagers gave another collective gasp at that. Aziraphale didn’t even realize that he was shouting until he heard the man on the horse say, “What is this I hear? Do we have another volunteer?”
Aziraphale froze up at this, but he didn’t want to back down. He then turned to look at the messengers and said in a quiet but firm tone. “I wish to go in place of Father Martin.”
The first messenger smiled. “Excellent. An energetic young man will be perfect for the job. And he works at the church, too. Splendid. We still, however, need some more volunteers.”
Murmurings in the crowd continue. Although they viewed Aziraphale’s offering to go as noble and honorable, they were reluctant to follow in his footsteps.
Meanwhile, Crowley had squeezed his way through the crowd and whispered to Aziraphale, “Angel, what do you think you’re doing? Are you mad?”
Aziraphale flinched slightly and whispered back, “I know what I’m doing. This is a good opportunity for me to help others out and to get out of the village.”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you, it’s not worth it. Just let someone else deal with it.”
Whether it happened because Crowley was too loud, he happened to be in the front, or fate was in a bad mood is not known. The second messenger’s head whipped round, and Crowley found himself being stared down at. “And who, may I ask, is this?”
Crowley stepped forward a bit and, looking directly at the man, said, “My name is Antonius Crowley, more commonly known as Crowley, as well as ‘serpent’ to others.”
Some of the villagers started whispering, hearing the name. “Ah, yes. Antonius Crowley. I knew your father. He was a respectable man right up until he, well, you know…”
Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was clenching and unclenching his fists and decided to step in, “Yes, this is Anto - I mean Crowley. He’s....a friendly acquaintance of mine.”
He didn’t catch Crowley’s reaction, but he clearly noted the condensation of the messenger as he nodded and said, “I see. I wouldn’t have expected an honorable churchman like you to associate with the likes of him.”
Hearing this caused Aziraphale to go on the defense. He straightened up and said, “That is my job as a churchman: to help the people and assist them through thick and thin, regardless of class or social status.”
“I see,” the messenger repeated, not losing his air of condensation. “So you’re saying that you help talk him through his problems?”
“Yes, I have done that on a number of occasions.”
A man behind him, who was one of the men dragging Crowley earlier, decided to pipe up and said, “Yeah, earlier today we busted him for stealing. And not for the first time, I might add.”
Crowley turned and sent a burning glare at the man. Meanwhile, the first messenger, who had been listening to the exchange, raised his eyebrow. “So you’ve befriended a crook? Seems like...unusual behavior for a churchman, wouldn’t you say?”
Aziraphale hesitated and said, “Well...I wouldn’t call him that…although I do keep telling him to stop being so troublesome, as it causes many unnecessary problems.”
The messenger smiled, although it contained neither friendliness or warmth. “So you’re saying you wish he would just keep his nose out of trouble?”
“Oh, certainly. I would like it very much.”
The smile widened. “Well in that case, why don’t we have him go with you?”
At this, Aziraphale and Crowley both exclaimed, “What!?” while the villagers gasped.
After a few breaths, Aziraphale regained his bearings and said in a calmer voice, “Your honor, I don’t understand. Why…why would you…?”
“I know what you are all probably thinking,” the first messenger interrupted. “Why would I have someone like him sent on a mission of this scale of importance?” He paused before continuing. “Well, it will be a good punishment for him. Balance out his many bad deeds with one large good deed. Besides, he won’t be alone. He has a churchman that can go with him.” And make sure he doesn’t cause more trouble. Although this wasn’t said, it was clearly implied.
All of the villagers gave murmurings of approval. This didn’t seem too bad to them. It would be a good character lesson for Crowley, and it’s not like he didn’t have Aziraphale to monitor him. And although they would never admit it, they thought that if something were to happen to someone, better it not be a respected citizen.
“Perfect. We have our volunteers, and we shall set off to the village tomorrow when the sun rises. The meeting is over. Everyone is dismissed.” On this note, the two messengers turned around and headed away from the large crowd.
The crowd slowly dispersed, people heading back to their usual everyday lives. It wasn’t long before Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones still there. Ever since the first messenger made his startling announcement, Aziraphale had made a point to not look at Crowley. When the suspense became too much, he turned to look at him, and felt his stomach drop.
Crowley’s face was a mask of different emotions, with anger appearing to be the most prominent layer. He said in a slow and barely controlled tone, “Unbelievable.”
Aziraphale swallowed, and said thickly, “Crowley...I...I’m…”
“Don’t,” Crowley cut in, shaking his head. “Just...just don’t.”
Aziraphale stood there, not saying anything. Without another word, Crowley turned and stalked away, not turning back. Silence shrouded the town center, and before long the sky began to darken. This helped to bring Aziraphale back to reality, and he morosely made his way home.
It was early in the morning, and the sun had barely even risen. The first rays of sunlight shone through the slits of the window, signaling to Aziraphale that it was time to get up. Slowly, he climbed off of the bed and made his way to the chest in the corner. He needed to pack his belongings, and since they were only going to be there for a few days tops, he decided that he wanted to pack lightly. Not too long afterward, he was prepared, having packed a set of clothes, a map, a lantern and firesteel, and some money. It was then that he thought that there was no harm in packing a book, as they might get some off time.
He was so absorbed in packing that he didn’t notice that Father Martin had entered the room until he said, “So you were serious? You actually are going?”
Aziraphale turned around and said, “Yeah. I am going. Is there a problem?”
“No, not at all,” Father Martin replied. “It’s just...I remember when you first came here.”
“Yeah,” Aziraphale said. “That was some time ago.”
“You were so young then. Probably only seven or eight years old. I remember when your parents brought you here all those years ago. Your father, specifically, said that he wanted you to work here at the church so that you could learn about helping people. I told him that I would be your teacher, and personally oversaw your training. You were a quick learner, and very skilled, too. Unfortunately, you also had your head in the clouds, or should I say, the books. You sometimes spent so much time with your books that you wouldn’t notice you had a person to talk to unless I or someone else alerted you. That was actually one of the reasons your father sent you here, so that you may work rather than spend all your time reading.”
He then paused for a moment before putting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “But look at you now, at how much you’ve grown. You’re heading off to another village in order to help out all these people. Even though the situation seems hopeless, you don’t let that stop you, but instead keep up your integrity. For that, I am proud you.”
Aziraphale swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Thanks, Father. That means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” Father Martin noticed the packed bag he was holding and said. “I see you are all prepared, correct?” A single nod. “Before you go, I will give you a prayer.”
“Okay, then.” Aziraphale lowered his head, and Father Martin placed a hand on it.
“The strength to overcome problems, the wisdom to solve complex trials, the courage to see hardships through to the end, and the moral integrity to always do what's right.”
After he removed his hand, Aziraphale said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Father Martin said with a smile. “Remember that prayer, it will help you throughout your journey.”
Aziraphale gave a small bow before walking out of the room and the front door. He took one last look at the house before he headed towards the village center.
Around the same time, Crowley was sleeping in his room. His room was on the second floor of the village tavern, and only contained a bed with a chest at the foot. Since there was no window, Crowley had no idea that it was dawn until a knock on the door from the tavern owner told him it was time to get up.
“M’up,” Crowley muttered sleepily. He sluggishly climbed out of bed and stretched his legs. He then slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs, where a few of the regulars had already started to gather.
“Hey, ‘ntonius,” one of the regulars shouted, the effect of alcohol already reflecting in his speech patterns. He was a tall man with dirty blonde hair and equally dirty clothes. “Sleep well, last night? You excited for the big day?”
“Walter, it is way too early for you to start drinking,” Crowley said, rubbing his forehead. “And if you must know, I slept okay last night. And I have no idea what you mean by ‘big day’.”
“Well, duh, your trip with church boy?” one of the other regulars shouted, this one sounding much more sober. He was also tall, but had brown hair and more presentable attire.
Crowley halted and asked, “Where did you hear that from?”
He shrugged and said, “News travels. Anyways, it’s going to be great, eh? Just the two of you, travelling to some faraway land to save some helpless sick people. It’s like a fairy tale.”
This was followed by some jeers from the less sober regulars. Phrases like “Ooooh” and “‘ntonius and church boy, eh” as well as the sound of drinks sloshing could be heard.
Crowley rolled his eyes, but took no mind to what they said. “The village isn’t some mystical fairyland, and I doubt the sick people are helpless. Also I’m not going with just the angel -” He stopped himself too late.
“Ah, a nickname,” the one named Walter said. “That’s so hear-heart-heartwa-cute.”
Crowley scoffed at this, although he was glad he was on the stairs. “Whatever. I’ll just go and prepare myself for this ‘fairy tale quest’ - as you call it - while you all drink yourselves silly. If you’re lucky, you might see unicorns before noon, or at least before you pass out.”
Crowley walked back up to his room, ignoring the jeers and remarks of the three below. There wasn’t much to pack, as he had little, and before long he was ready to go.
Another knock at the door. Without looking up, Crowley said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
The door opened, and Crowley heard footsteps as the person entered the room. Exasperated, he said, “If someone made a mess again, tell Beatrice to clean it. It’s her job.”
“Right, it’s her job to clean up messes. Just like it seems like it’s your job to make them.”
Hearing the voice, Crowley spun around to face the intruder. Immediately, his face shifted, and he said in a heavy voice, “You…”
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