Kingdom of Duivene
Citadel of Chovers
The Two Towers32nd Floor, Rooms of the Steward, Tower of the Augurs
A mage of crimson judgement"Oh my..", the Faith Keeper replied in his soft voice, still holding the maid and pointing the tip of his blade at her throat. "But you were severely mistaken. Both I and the Steward are only interested in the Princess' safety. We had found out that the Achysians had prepared contingency plans to assassinate her if they would have failed to kill her on the battlefield during the Night of the Bloody Moons, and we had to act. The Steward has orders from her brother, the King, and the Faith's Judgment would always gladly offer its life and blood for one of the Seven Heroes." The pink eyed man smiled warmly. "You see, this means that you were working against the Princess and her loyal servants, and for a servant in a royal citadel such as Chovers, what you have tried to do would have been treason. But the Gods teach us to be merciful when possible. So then," he continued, pushing the tip of his blade forward so that the maid could feel the cold steel on her throat, "Tell me who sent you here, and I shall let you live. Money is never worth dying for."
A room, the 45th floor, the Princess' Chambers
A warrior and a mage of Judgment The room starting to shake took the Faith Keepers by surprise, but they quickly tried to react, with the mage starting to chant something of his own. The bard's magic inconvenienced them more than anything else - Chovers was perhaps the strongest citadel in the entire Kingdom of Duivene, so a single bard's magic couldn't have caused one of its rooms to cave in. The soldier also took the opportunity to charge forward, and the length of his blade gave him an advantage - as he forced the cook to parry, and then used his other hand, armed with a stilleto, to stab the unprotected cook right in the neck. However, at the same time, fate struck. The bard's magic couldn't have possibly caused the ceiling to cave in, but it did cause the chandelier above to fall - and it fell right on top of the mage. Seeing this, enraged, the soldier immediately reacted and tried to push forward toward the bard, only for the last dying action of the cook's falling body to cause him to stumble..
A hallway, somewhere else
A fire witch"Pride and arrogance. What else could we expect from the servants of a flame corrupted by vainglory and hubris?", the woman asked, seemingly unfazed by her wounds or the slight smell of burning flesh. The impressive showcase of Illania's magical powers seemed to be nothing in her eyes. The Faith Keeper did however seem to acknowledge her as a dangerous opponent, as the next moments passed in an oppressive silence, with both of them just looking at each other, not acting. She had clearly realized that her long halberd was putting her at a disadvantage in the hallway they were fighting, so without any warning, she suddenly lunged forward. But while Illania would have probably prepared her blade, attempting to deflect a strike that never came, the Faith Keeper did not use her weapon. She did not grip the shaft of the hallberd with her left hand too as would have been required for a proper swing, but instead, she seemed to now have a small piece of paper, tighly gripped in her left hand - a spell, prepared ahead of time, the chant written on it in blood. It burned through mana like nothing else, and few were able to create and use them - but it was an ace card for others. The paper itself turned into ash in her hand, but a medium sized sphere of golden flames appeared right in front of her - and was thrown with force at the Achysian witch. Even if Illania would have been able to somehow block it in time, the sheer force of the attack and of the subsequent explosion threw her back in the air and into the wall behind, while the Faith Keeper used her weapon and its weight to protect herself from it.
As soon as the bright flames and the deafening sound of the explosion were gone, the Faith Keeper seemed to be on the verge of lunging forward again, ignoring the smell of smoke in the air - but her attraction was suddenly distracted by a sound behind her. She turned around just in the nick of time - barely able to parry the strike.
An older knight had just arrived behind her, wearing an ornamented silver and azure armor, decorated with the emblem of one of the companies of the Sentinels of the King, the Royal Guards of Duivene. His white hair and mustache matched his dark golden eyes, and despite his age, he was very clearly still a formidable opponent. His sudden arrival had forced the Faith Keeper onto the defensive, and a flurry of strikes and thrusts stopped her from using any of her magic, giving the fire witch time to recover.
"Now!", he shouted in a strong but still remarkably calm voice, towards the witch..
A room, somewhere else
A maid and two guards"That is true. The Guards have shown quite a distressing amount of incompetence so far, which only strengthens the Steward's notion that they might be unable to stop an assassination attempt on the princess.", the Faith Keeper answered in a sweet and bubbly voice.
"I must commend your loyalty however. Few servants, even among those who owe a debt of life to their masters, would have risked their lives the way you did today." He giggled again.
"As for who I am, my name isn't important. Those who decide to serve the Faith to the fullest extent of their existence are encouraged to forget and bury who they once were. I am a humble Repenter, serving under the 4th Petal of the Fourth Scale of the Faith's Judgement, Obedientia. I got in here through the opened door, and I was here when you and your companions arrived with the Princess, but I used an illusion charm to hide myself from your sight. As for the Princess herself, I am here to save her and to put her under the protection of the Faith's Judgement and of the Four Scales."The Faith Keeper smiled as he grabbed his weapon from the ground.
"Now, what would actually be interesting would be to find out who you really are.. but I shall restrain my curiosity here, since I do not think that I will be able to obtain a proper answer, and alas, we are running out of time. So let me ask you a question." A moment of silence followed.
"If i were to give you the opportunity to choose between life and death, between running out that door and leaving the Princess with me or trying to fight me and dying.. what would you choose?"In the courtyardBlood gushed through the air.
The Duivenian mage's strike had shattered the shield protecting the priestess, and as the Faith Keepers surrounding her were overwhelmed by the maddening assault of the Duivenian soldiers, Eric managed to close, and to deliver a second strike. His blade broke through the shattered remains of magic and might and brutally cut her throat. The gushing blood tainted him and the Duivenian mage who was nearby alike, and the veiled woman fell on the cold ground beneath, her white robes stained crimson, without so much as a whisper.
Her death seemed to shatter the morale of the Faith Keepers, and many of them turned around and tried to run again, in the victorious cries and shouts of the Duivenians. But in this moment of victory, they overlooked something rather essential - the magical circle that the priestess had created was now glowing crimson, seemingly absorbing blood from the pool of red that had formed beneath her body. Crimson like sparks of electricity appeared around it - and then it exploded, with a jade-red smoke. The force of the explosion threw a lot of people, Eric and Eglamour included.
When the smoke cleared - a huge silhouette was standing in the middle of the courtyard. It was humanoid, but at least three times as tall as a human, made from a dark substance that looked like hardened clay, with magical markings glowing a faint red carved on the entirety of its body in complicated patterns. What would have been its face was completely empty, devoid of even eyes. And even if it lacked a mouth, it screamed angrily, moving forward, and punching away five or so Duivenian soldiers, who were thrown into the air and crashed violently into the wall of the tower behind.
Victory turned to panic.
A little later
Somewhere
A demon"Hellfire does indeed have unique proprieties.. and you are right, it would be able to burn a soul and a body entirely..that's what the books said at the very least. I have indeed lacked the honor of meeting a Prince of Hell so far.", the newcomer conceded
" But I am not questioning what you saw, I merely wish to.. ask the Prince for a clarification. For even completely burning a body and a soul is death, and some necromancers, can feel the very presence of the act of killing and of death itself. And while there is plenty of death around in this accursed night.. there is no death here." The boy sighed, the chains that were still attached to his cuffs and collar making a metallic, clinking sound as he moved.
"I am indeed a necromancer, but I am not only that. I am an Archbishop of the Cult of Sins, serving Invidia, the Goddess and Sin of Envy."As he said that, the black snake coiled around his left arm seemed to turn into smoke, evaporating. The smoke itself seemed to float towards it hand, where it materialized again into a long scythe, black, with a crimson blade.
"And in the name of my master, I am afraid that I must insist. I must talk with the Prince... even if he does not want to be disturbed by anyone."
A little later
Somewhere else
A knight and an angelIllari had come to terms with death long ago. He had started right at it so many times that he couldn't count them anymore, and it's not like it mattered anyway. It was never supposed to be him - from the very beginning he had no right to survive and to live on. Two lives, one death, and his live had been spared because of something as fickle as the flip of a coin, the eternal work of fate. So when the Faith Keepers overwhelmed in, and one stabbed him in the arm, causing him to drop his lance, and then forcing him to fall of his knees, blood pouring out of the wound and over his silver and golden armor - he was calm. But his heart was drowned with sadness and despair and failure not for him - certainly not, but for her. She deserved to live, and she deserved most importantly to live free, away from the darkness and the corruption of the Faith and the pain of the world around her. It was a shame, it truly was a shame, that all that he had done had been in vain.
He was useless, wasn't he? He couldn't have even saved her without that demon, and he wouldn't have died without that forgotten deity. He had even managed to hurt her, instead of protecting her. Maybe this was how it had to be.
But then..
She started talking. And it wasn't just her tone that had changed, but also the way in which she was talking.. it was as if she had become an entirely different person. And as soon as her voiced ceased to be heard, the head of the Faith Keeper closest to her.. simply exploded, in blood and gore. Illari could only look in shock and horror as the arm holding the sword of the Faith Keeper closest to him also burst into blood, the gushing, crimson liquid hitting him straight in the face. The boy could barely hear what she was saying next, desperately trying to clean his face off the blood and to keep it out of his eyes, but her tone, her cold tone.. it was cutting through the air.
The Faith Keepers didn't even wait for her to finish, as they started running, screaming, like little children who had just seen a wolf in the forest. Not even a minute later, the two of them were alone in the dark and eerie forest, with the crimson light of the moons shining above them.
Illari was looking at her with his golden eyes - but they weren't as blank as they had been before. His usual emotionless attitude had a twinge of.. fear in it. Of pure terror even. As they looked directly at each other and into each other's eyes, Illari suddenly tried to stand up, to turn away and to flee, but his body was far too weakened, having bled profusely after already being nearly killed once earlier that night. He stumbled and fell face-down on the ground, but even then he rapidly turned around, still on the ground, but looking at Nysa and trying to back away.
"What.. are you?", he asked, his voice trembling. He had seen countless horrors in the war but nothing.. nothing like this.
"You're.. you're no angel.", he continued, finally coming to that realization, but still too weak and afraid to just run away.
"Just.. just stay.. stay away.. from me.."
Wyzkia
A castleThe old lady didn't move a single inch while the girl next to her was having a breakdown - she didn't even seem to acknowledge that it was happening, let alone react to it in any way. She continued to have a warm smile on her face, and she even started to gently hum the tune of an old chidlren's song while taking care of the flowers in front of her, all while Alina had dropped to her knees, had started to cry, had apologized, had begged.. nothing.
But then, as the pink haired girl finally remained quiet... a few moments passed, marked only by the woman's humming, and then silence.. and only then did Rafal's mother turn around again to look at her.
"My dear Alina, there is no need to cry now, is there? If my younger son has chosen you to be his fiancee then as his mother, I can not object. It would be hypocritical for me to do so, since I married against the better judgement of my parents to begin with." Still smiling, the woman sat on her knees right next to her, so as to be on the same level.
"This doesn't mean that I would object anyway. I do not know your past, and if you wish to keep it a secret, then there is no need for me to know it. Each person has secrets that they have good reasons to keep as such, and much like a good wife learns not to pressure her husband for those things he wishes to keep secret, a mother in law shouldn't insist too much either, if her instinct tells her that she has nothing to worry about. And that is what my instinct is telling me." She calmly took out a small, white napkin, embroidered with the coat of arms of Rafal's family on it, and she used to gently clear the tears from Alina's cheeks.
"You are a fine and polite young woman, and my flowers seem to have taken a liking to you - and they never lie. Especially since the ones you took such good care of are enchanted Loroi flowers - malice would have caused them to dry. I don't know how you failed to live up to expectations, but as far as me and my flowers are concerned, you pass." The woman giggled.
"And you must really be a special someone indeed if my son is doing something like this for you. You see - Rafal has always wanted to live up to his father's expectations no matter what. When he was little and we thought that he would become a priest, and even after he became a squire - he always gave his everything to the duty he had, and he never particularly cared about the girls that he met, even as his father tried to arrange a political marriage for him. So for him to have such a sudden change in his behavior? He's always been mature and wise beyond his years. I can trust his judgement too."Standing back up, she offered her hand to the pink eyed girl to also help her stand, before continuing.
"And this, all of it, all that you've said, all your emotions.. there was nothing fake in all of it, I can feel it. I was a lady in waiting at the ducal court in my early years, so I've learned all too well how to discern the poison of lies in people's voices. I don't know why you think that you do not deserve him, but I know that if you are so honest about it and your faults - then that only makes you more deserving of him, if anything. You do not have to say anything, Alina, and there is no reason for you to be afraid. I'll give you my blessing as his mother. You can marry my son."
Somewhere else entirely
A blind boyFor the first time.. since their heart shattering discussion had started.. it almost seemed as if the ice-like lack of emotion of the white-clad Archbishop was shattered. As her angry voice shouted, as she mentioned the pain she had gone through when she had been killed, something that she couldn't have possibly remembered, a sin that he carried alone in his guilt and memories, he took a step back, as if he wanted to stay away from her, but at the same time.. his hand moved forward for the briefest of moments, as if he wanted to touch her. He couldn't see her, he knew that she was there, he knew that she was angry and distraught.. but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't believe that he had actually made her suffer like this.
But the blind boy didn't have much time to think about it, as her anger evaporated in a second, replaced instead with a smile that was only darkness for him..and her hugging him. Now this he could feel, and he almost shuddered at the sudden, unexpected contact, but she didn't stop there. She gently whispered to him, breaking apart his lies with ease, and telling him that if she would have thought that he had been serious.. she would have killed him. And even he, the Archbishop of Pride, the most powerful servant of the Seven Sins, a mage of nearly unparalleled magical strength.. could only barely suppress a tremor of fear when he heard her voice like that.
And it didn't stop there either. She continued talking, sunken deeply into her delusions, telling him how she would never let him go, how she would never allow a goddess to take him away, how her dreams could come true and how her medicine could make them both sleep together....
Hearing that, the boy sighed deeply, his icy attitude shattered for a second, but his resolve strengthened again.
"That would not be sleep Meta... that would be death. You might not remember it.. but we both experienced it, you and I.. the beginning of it, at the very least. Death.. and death is the furthest thing away from sleep there could be. Death has no dreams, death has no purpose, death has no waking up...you're just lost in eternal torment. Neither of us deserved it, and neither of us deserved to be chained in servitude to deities while stuck between life and death either. And we can not die and pass completely.. not while there are still innocents suffering because of us.. and not while our revenge hasn't been enacted. We didn't just die.. but there was someone there, cutting us, gouging your eyes, and piercing my heart and slowly letting to suffocate in my own blood. Those people.. are the ones who need to die.. and they need to die horribly. Their deaths won't be like falling to sleep, but a thousand times the torment we had to go through. "He took a deep breath, as if trying to calm the mad beating of a long lost heart, and after another moment's hesitation, he hugged her back, putting his arms around her.. but unlike her, he was cold, his pale skin nearly as icy as the weather around them.
"And to do that... I need the power of my Sin. To do that, I need to give in to Superbia completely, and I need to obey her completely. Only then will our vengeance be granted, and only then will the innocents who have suffered because of me be saved. And I need you... I need you to accept that. I need you to let me give in to her completely, I need to let her do whatever she wants. For our vengeance. For our deaths. For our lives. For our future. And for our love. I need to let me do this, and not interfere.. I need you to help me even if who I am might change, and I need you to obey me no matter what changes. Only then can I do what I desire, only then can we be saved, and only then can we eventually.. be together again."And then again, silence.
"If not..then we must not see each other again until the deeds are done. No sleeping, no dreaming, and no living."
Most Sublime Republics of Calaria
Kartaria
Pekastro
A lone citadel was standing high on top of a ruined city. The magical floods had caused mayhem and destruction throughout most of the Calarian city of Pekastro, and even if the water levels had descended, the enemy attack had accomplished its objective of damaging the regional Calarian capital. But no floods, no matter how high, could have also damaged the city's citadel, placed on what had originally been a natural hill, but raised even higher through the deaths of Kartaran workers and the genius of Calarian engineers. The citadel was made from white stone, with parts of its fortifications enchanted, and with tall towers that dominated the port, the city, and the surrounding valley. The city held a garrison of around 8000 Cernida soldiers, and it also now hosted a few hundred civilian refugees, with the citadel's commander having refused to accept any more or to stretch the fortress' supplies thin in order to help the citizens of the devastated city.
That very same commander, a middle-aged man, with long, pale purple hair, light blue eyes, and wearing a rather fancy silver and golden armor, complete with an emerald green mantle, was standing on top of the citadel's main tower, looking at the city beneath him through the battlements. The situation for the Calarians was difficult, but not hopeless. The magical attacks and the monster attacks on the Night of the Bloody Moons had mostly destroyed Pekastro and damaged other cities, but several coastal forts and most of the towns and forts deeper inland had survived without being affected much. The Kartarans had not seized the opportunity and had organized no large-scale offensives against them, which had allowed the Calarians to reorganize their forces in order to best defend the most important places, and the rebels had also made no serious efforts to convince the subdued Kartaran clans to join them. The Anselmians had however decided to make a move, and had attacked several naval convoys with refugees heading back for the mainland, but without knowing the exact numbers of Anselmian ships or their origins, only a fool would have sent more fleets to engage. As such, the decision had been taken to keep most of the remaining Calarian ships around Pekastro, combining them into one fleet, while small and nimble galiots were sent in scouting missions both towards the north and the south, to try to keep track of further Anselmian activity. On the land however, it would have been a mistake to abandon the initiative in the hands of the rebel Kartarans, even more so since the Calarians had to prove their continued dominance in the eyes of the subdued clans. So measures were taken to organize small raiding forces from among the garrisons of the towns and forts that could afford it, mostly on horseback, to lead retaliatory raids towards the eastern part of the island, to strike where they were least expected.
This was a setback. But no true Calarian could ever acknowledge the idea of defeat at the hands of barbarians and Anselmian rabble - and once the reinforcements from the mainland would arrive, the Six Archons were going to punish those responsible for these cowardly attacks.