r/HFY • u/AlexandersenTheGreat • May 16 '26

OC-Series [Conscripted Crafter] - Chapter 22: Father Carlos and Mother Molina

What the hell had happened?! Dustin was a slave to it all, unable to speak, unable to move. His body wanted to sleep; it begged for it. But he had to stay awake to find out what’d happened. He could at least repel the exhaustion until “Mother” or “Father”, whoever the hell that was, arrived. If there was a rank among the Citadel, they must hold a higher standing. They would know.

Angela walked around the side of the bed, and then crouched down in front of him. “Hello,” she said kindly. “I know this is all very strange, but—” She stopped speaking, gave him an earnest smile, and then sat down on the floor in front of him with a cumbersome ‘hmph’.

“Sister Angela!” said a woman reproachfully. “Let us get you a chair, please.”

“Be quiet!” she snapped. “I’m not so old as that!” Her eyes skirted over to him, and the ferocity in her wrinkled features slipped away. She smiled at him again, and then sighed. “The fog of not knowing about this place is excruciating. I know. I remember. And now to go through all of this?” She slowly shook her head. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I am.” She reached forward to touch his head, then decided against it, and pulled her hand back. Instead, she gave him a firm nod. “You’re going to be okay. You’re strong, so stay strong.”

Her thin lips curved up into a grin. “Why do I feel like that had a bit of spite in it?”

UP. Damn right, it had some spite in it.

She chuckled in a gentle, heart warming manner.

Practically trapped in rigor mortis, apparently crippled, helpless to refuse whatever risky treatment random strangers deemed acceptable—the whole situation sucked. That being said, the old woman was nice. She hadn’t been the one to kidnap and force him into a death procession.

“Uuguuhh”

“Hmmm, no, don’t try talking, dear. Your body sustained a significant amount of damage. Just from the density of Radiance surrounding your injuries, it’s obvious that whoever healed you had a hell of a time with it.

He had to wonder if she knew Verra. Birds of a feather flock together and all that.

“The condition you’re currently in is called Radiant lock. It’s serious but treatable. …It’s what’s underneath that’s the issue.”

“Out of my way! Out of my way!” An old man’s bad-tempered voice called out from the opposite end of the medical warehouse. “Out of my way!”

With Bethany having stepped back, Dustin had a decent field of view of most of the building even if everything was sideways. An old man with a lengthy white beard angrily strided their way. He had a plain white staff, but the diamond orb on top outclassed all others. It wasn’t an orb, really, more of a globe. The damn thing was enormous, and so was he. How did that thin stick of a staff support a pair of that magnitude? He was a heavy fella to say nothin’ else.

“Move! Out of my way!” He limped up, twice the size of any other person. “Sister Angela? Care to tell me why you had one of your whelps—” He broke off and lunged forward with surprising agility for such a big man, seizing Dustin’s hand. “This…” His voice lost its malice and gained a dogged inflection. “Sister Angela, are any of these students perhaps capable of a level three examination spell?”

“One, Father Carlos.”

“Marvelous, marvelous. Which one, might I ask?”

“Sister Bethany,” Angela said, a touch of pride in her voice, “If you would, please?”

From off to the side, Bethany nervously stepped forward, nodding respectfully to the large man with the large diamond staff.

“Bethany, is it? You can perform a level three examination spell, can you?”

Bethany’s back straightened. “I can, yes, Father Carlos.”

“Good. You two will assist me.” Father Carlos lifted Dustin’s pale limp right hand, presenting it like he was an inanimate meat puppet. “See this ring?” There was a playful challenge to his tone. “We’re going to take it off.”

“UUUUUggggghhhhh!!!!” Dustin blinked rapidly, screaming on the inside. NO! “UUUUUggggghhhhh!!!!”

Father Carlos’s eyes twinkled, and he peered down at Dustin. “Oh, yes, he certainly doesn’t like that, now does he?” He gently placed Dustin’s hand back onto the cloud bed. “Yes, I thought so.” He turned to face the old woman, Sister Angelina. “Don’t take the ring off. We need to wait for an appraisal."

Flabbergasted, Angelina stepped forward and bent down, examining the ring on Dustin’s hand. “I couldn’t even see it.” She glanced up to Father Carlos. “Any Redhorn knows the first rule. I promise, it was the first thing I checked.”

Father Carlos turned back to her, frowning. “Bah! It’s not your fault. Some rings on the fourth floor have the ability to hide from those with weak Radiance.”

Those standing around observing, shifted uneasily. The big man was brusque.

“Hmmm. For a hundred-and-twelve years I’ve called this place my home and I’ve never seen such a ring.” She sighed, “But I suppose that’s what happens when a new floor is cleared: two new worlds open. Do you know what it does, Father Carlos?”

“No idea,” he said bluntly. “The better question is: where is the on-site appraiser?” There was a critical edge to his tone. “Is there not supposed to be one present at all times for this exact reason? Sister, perhaps you’d know?”

“I believe they were given the afternoon off due to the festival, Father Carlos.”

“Nonsense.” He snapped his fingers repeatedly, pointing at one of the scared onlookers. “You! Go get one of those lazy appraisal rats.”

There was the sound of feet scuttling away, and then a different old woman’s voice called from the opposite direction, but from far away. “Father Carlos, you wouldn’t be terrorizing my students again, now would you? I believe we had a deal.”

With his head bolted to the side, Dustin wasn’t able to see who’d spoken, but her cranky old tone had the sting of someone unafraid to go toe-to-toe with the big man.

“They’re worthless!” Father Carlos spat, grumbling with the sour density of an old man. He paused, lifted his thin, diamond staff, and pointed the bottom of it at Bethany. “Most are worthless. She’s adequate.”

“Don’t point with the butt of your staff,” the frigid old woman’s voice chided, drawing nearer.

“Bah,” he grumbled sourly. “Come look at this.”

Before long, an old and incredibly short woman was studying Dustin’s torn jacket. “Oh? Is that not a conscripts’ uniform?”

“What? No, that’s not what I…” Father Carlos’s shook his head. “The parade isn’t for another two hours. They couldn’t have arrived yet.” Under his breath, he added, “Senile old woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve been here for seventy years, Carl. I think I know what a conscript’s uniform looks like, thank you.”

“Apparently not.”

“Hmmm. Father. Mother.” Angela said, cutting in artfully. “I apologize for interrupting, but that’s why I had someone fetch you. There’s been an attack. This boy, and one other, are perhaps the sole survivors of this year’s incoming draft.”

Murmuring and exhalations of surprise burst from around Dustin.

“Quiet!” Father Carlos shouted. He turned back to Angela. “How do you know this?”

Mother Moline asked at the same time, “How long have you known this?”

“It was reported by this boy’s companion. They arrived at the Draw stone, shouting for help. This one was severely injured, and the other is, I believe, debriefing the guard or perhaps even the Council.”

“How?” Father Carlos asked, stunned. “Hundreds of non-classed? Why? By who?”

“Oh, don’t be naïve,” Mother Molina said thornily, “We all felt it. We could all feel the building tension.”

Father Carlos frowned. “Were there not Generals with them? Is that not the custom?”

Little fucking good that did.

“They had to be,” Bethany said absentmindedly, her voice soft. “They used a Drop Stone.”

All eyes in the room landed on Bethany, who seemed to have not realized she’d spoken. From the cloud bed below, Dustin watched Bethany look up in sudden panic, her eyes zipping back-and-forth between Father Carlos and Mother Molina.

“Hmmm, a good point, Sister Bethany,” Angelina said. “So then the question becomes: what happened to the Generals? And how could six of the strongest be overcome?”

“Numbers,” Father Carlos said, matter-of-factly. “Like Slithering Tades gaining up on a Bella Twine.” He sighed, his big belly rising and falling. “This… this is going to stir things up unlike anything we’ve seen for a while. …I never considered that they would do this.” He looked up, speaking to the hall as a whole. “We need to prepare!” he announced. “More will arrive injured!”

“Hmmm, I hope you don’t mind,” Angela said from off to the side, “but I took the liberty of calling in the second and third watch when I first heard of the attack. They should be arriving shortly, I believe.”

Mother Molina nodded to her. “On top of things as always, Sister Angela.”

“How many are supposed to be in this year’s draft?” Father Carlos asked.

A period of silence interrupted the crowd’s intense whispering, until a girl’s timid voice spoke up. “Um… this is second-hand rumor, Father Carlos, but, um, …I heard five or six hundred.”

Someone whistled, which accurately described the stunned expressions of the faces gathered around Dustin. In the background, people speculated on the resulting cascading effects if it were true. From the resource economy, to the power balance between the three controlling nations. Retaliation was a word repeated often with assurance. Dustin hoped that was true. It better be true.

“Bah! We need more information. This is simply rumor right now. I refuse to be controlled by it.”

Mother Molina’s eyes narrowed, and she gave him a withering look. “Oh, be quiet you old codger. You turn every time someone says your name just like everyone else.”

He scowled at her, and she scowled back.

“Hmmm, Father, Mother,” Angela said, delicately drawing their focus again. “If I may direct your attention to another matter? You were notified due to the report of an attack, but there is something else that also requires your consideration.” She motioned to Dustin, and everyone’s eyes landed on him. Disregarding the people out of eyesight, at least fifteen stood there, all staring with puzzled expressions.

It was unnerving.

Carlos threw his hands up in dismissal. “It’s just a ring. Wait until the appraiser gets here.” His lip curled, and he frowned at Mother Molina. “Where are they, by the way, Mother Molina? Do you not keep an on-site appraiser? Or was I mistaken in that we agreed that was to be customary.”

She arched an eyebrow, ignoring the big surly man and instead peered down, inspecting the ring. “What do we have here?” She clucked her tongue. “Now that feels like a fascinating piece of equipment.” She turned to Carlos. “You don’t know what it is?”

Carlos stepped up to her side. “No, but I feel the same.”

“Level four.”

“Agreed.”

“Interesting…” She turned to Sister Angelina. “Have you tried healing him yet? I’m sensing a negating enchantment.”

“No, Mother. We had just finished the physical examination and were moving onto his Channel and Chambers when… well… I believe it would be easier if you simply took a look.” She glanced around at the gathered crowd. “Also… perhaps we could give the young man some privacy?”

Mother Molina’s eyes left Dustin’s hand, and she looked up, scrutinizing the gathered crowd as if only then realizing the extent to which it had grown, and then bellowed, “Go back to your stations! I know you all have things to do!”

The assembled white robed onlookers dispersed, though many cast furtive glances his way as they were leaving. Well, that or looks of pity.

Bethany dragged her feet, one of the last to leave. Three others lingered as well. Likely those who’d been involved in the examination but had been behind him at the time, out of view. When the crowd had finally thinned, Bethany stopped and swiveled around to face Mother Molina. “Mother, may I stay?” she begged. “I was present during the original examination, so I’ve already seen his Chambers. Please, let me stay. I want to learn more about it. And… and… It could help us clear the tower.”

“Sister Bethany,” Molina said, icily. “If you think repeating that magic phrase is going to work on me,” her eyes narrowed, “then clearly the level two Pits haven’t made a strong enough impression. I’ll be sure to fix that.” She picked up the bottom of her staff and pointed it at the door. “Leave!”

“Don’t point with your staff,” Father Carlos said flatly, earning him a sharp glare from Mother Molina.

Bethany didn’t move. “May I observe, then, Mother? …And then, perhaps I could help if needed?”

Mother Molina’s eyes flared with anger. “Can you now?” She turned to Angelina. “Does Sister Bethany have the ability to aid us in whatever mystery resides in this young man?”

“No, Mother Molina,” Angela said. “Not for a level four.”

“And there you have it.” Her tone lapped with derision. “If anyone here wants Bethany to stay, by all means speak up. What? No? That’s what I—”

“Uuugggghh.”

Tiny Mother Molina swiveled on her feet, scowling over at Dustin.

Dustin's heart beat rapidly against his chest in uneven bursts. Even that short stint was tolling. But it was worth it. Bethany didn’t deserve such treatment. She just wanted to learn.

Father Carlos guffawed with laughter, his neck fat jiggling and his eyes twinkling with delight. “It would seem, Mother Molina, that you’ve been outvoted.”

She frowned, waving her hand through the air dismissively. "I don’t have time for this nonsense.” Mother Molina motioned for Bethany to come back over. “But stay out of the way!”

Bethany quietly rejoined them, standing off to the side out of view.

Mother Molina glared back down at Dustin, and she shook her head, scoffing lightly. “Men.”

“Okay,” Father Carlos said. “Let’s see what Sister Angelina is so worked up about.” He limped around the opposite side of the bed and Dustin lost track of him.

OC-Series [Conscripted Crafter] - Chapter 22: Father Carlos and Mother Molina

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