The Dance of Chaos [IC-Fantasy-OPEN]

[Fereni]

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

Alina knew, distantly, that Anastazja was worried, and she tried to calm herself down, but she couldn't. She was doing it again. Damn it, why couldn't she stop? If she could just pretend to be normal for a little while, then everything would be fine, but no, she couldn't even do that. Worthless. Useless. Pathetic whore. She couldn't think, she could barely breathe through her tears, and her head was spinning. Still, Rafal's soft voice cut through the haze, and she managed to at least look up at him, gasping, immediately hugging him tightly, needing the comfort of his presence to ground her.

"I-I'm not--" Her words were mixed up, it was so hard to think clearly. "My mother, she--our eyes--they're the same." She had to choke back another round of manic laughter. "Rafal, I'm sure of it, I know--it sounds crazy, but she told me--her mother disappeared, too. She was... she was a noblewoman, who disappeared, and Rafal, her name... it's the same as my mother's name. I don't--I can't believe it, but it's too much. It can't really be a coincidence, right? Her eyes, they're just like..." This time she couldn't hold back the laughter. "No wonder he always hated me. If I'm--if we're--but we can't be. I can't be. Because she's so--she's so perfect, and I'm just a gods-damned whore who shouldn't even be alive. No one would want to be my family, not if they knew the truth. And this thing--" She gestured to her stomach. "It's not fair. It's not fair, she shouldn't have to be--she wants to be my best friend, but she'd hate me if she knew, she'd never want to be my friend at all, much less my sister. But if it's true, I-I'm a little bit happy, but it's not... I don't deserve it. I know I don't. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I sound crazy, and I made her worry, I didn't mean to but I couldn't stop--I don't know why I'm like this, I'm still so pathetic, I'll do better, I promise. I'm sorry... I just keep ruining everything, but I'll.. I'll do whatever I have to. I just... I don't want her to hate me..."

Later
A glade where the Sins had met

Meta had screamed until her throat was raw, and then fallen silent, breathing raggedly and still trying to remove the shards of broken glass from where her eyes had been; but her hands were shaking from the pain, and she couldn't get a good grip on the glass fragments, only cutting herself further as she tried. She barely registered Saeria's words, or Ekaitz's response--she was too busy trying to just breathe through the pain and stay grounded. Yet she could not ignore the magic that pushed her to her feet, and although she couldn't see Ekaitz, she looked directly at where his voice came from. She listened to his questions, breathed in deeply, and then spat blood at his feet. She smiled beatifically, as if she didn't have blood pouring down her face and burns covering her back, as if she wasn't in immense pain, as if nothing was wrong at all, and she answered in a tone of voice that was far from her normal, slightly distant way of speaking. Her voice was entirely present, sharp, and cold, and it seemed as if she was still looking at Ekaitz, even though there was no way that she could see him.

"Do you think I will suddenly become loyal to you?" she asked, contempt clear in her tone. "I do not serve you or the gods you claim to follow, and I never will, no matter what it is that you do to me." She smiled again, but this time it was completely cold and almost condescending. "As a sworn servant of the Archbishop of Superbia, I will tell you nothing. And I will say the same damn thing to every other question, until the moment you put that sword to my neck and kill me again."

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Saeria

The angelic woman frowns and brings her free hand up to her mouth, when she takes it away she speaks in what is a perfect imitation of Pride's voice. "If that is your choice then... I suppose I have no other choice." With that she releases the orb of wind and the compressed air rips into Meta, striking where it won't kill her but it will harm her and creating more bloody wounds. "And I can ensure you will not die, I promise you that, but if you refuse us you will suffer more than you should. But, I know you, nameless traitor, and I know you will not break through physical torture. So... I guess other methods will have to do as much as I may hate them." She reaches up and places a hand on Meta's forehead and, using the distraction the pain of her attack and her other injuries caused, forces herself into Meta's mind and forces Meta to remember things she had long forgotten. She sees through her eyes that wretched day, the day that she 'died'. She sees the heroes and traitors desperately battling it out, and finally she sees him, she sees Kiryl fighting... and she sees Kiryl die and immediately after her sight is gone as pain fills her, the sensation of her eyes being cut out, a pain that is both physical and mental and every moment of it feels as real as anything else. The scene repeats and she sees Kiryl die and feels her eyes cut out.

And this happens again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

Each time is ever so slightly different or a different event taking place, a wound falling here, another there, Meta's angle becoming different, and in one of them she is so close that she can see the life leave Kiryl's eyes. Another time she can feel her lips on Kiryl's only for the taste of blood to then fill her mouth. In yet another her eyes are cut out first and the now blind girl desperately crawls on the ground as she hears Kiryl's dying screams. And in all of them where she has sight she cannot look away from what Saeria is making her see.

And after the repeated scenes Pride's voice speaks to her. "All you need to do to make it stop is to tell them what you can Meta. She will not stop until then."

[Fereni]

Saeria

That voice. That--it wasn't possible. It wasn't him, she knew that, but it unsettled her nonetheless, not being able to look and prove to herself that it was a trick. And then the pain--she screamed again, all the air knocked out of her lungs, and before she had even a moment to recover, it all came flooding back.

She can't stop screaming. It hurts, it hurts so much, she can't see anything and she can feel the blood pouring out of her and she knows, she knows that he is dying, too. She wants to call out for him, but she can't. She can't even move, can't try to find him, it hurts too much--but it seems that he's already found her.

His hand wraps around hers, and they cling to each other as if the touch can somehow save them. His skin is so cold. She's sure that hers is, too.

She wants to speak to him, to say his name, to tell him she loves him one last time, but the pain is just too much. She squeezes his hand instead, hoping that it will be enough, hoping that he'll understand.

His own grip slackens, and the last piece of her will shatters.

"No, no, no," she sobbed, not realizing she was speaking aloud. "This isn't real. This isn't--He's not--"

She kisses him, just like that first night under the stars, but instead of the loving, joyful kiss of that time, this one is a gesture of farewell. His blood stains her lips, fills her mouth, but she doesn't care. It's getting hard to breathe, but that doesn't matter.

She'd thought, back then, that she could drown in her own happiness. Now, she will drown with him.

"He's not dead. He's alive. He loves me--we're going to be together," she babbled, clutching at her necklace in a desperate attempt to remind herself of reality. "We're going to live in the forest, and I'll grow roses, and no one will ever come between us again. This isn't--"

And then his voice spoke to her again, and she screamed once more, this time with pure rage. "Shut up!" she shrieked. "Stop lying to me! You're not him, I know you're not! Stop lying to me, and stop calling me nameless! My name is Meta! I am the Sleep Princess, I am the one who relieves everyone of their worries, but you--I'll never let you dream again--I'll kill you, I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you, you can't trick me! I know we're both alive, and I'll always know that. I told you, I don't care... Whatever you do to me, I won't answer you..." She laughed, breathless. "As a sworn servant of the Archbishop of Superbia... I will tell you nothing!"

[Zedeshia]

Outskirts of the Shadow

As the constant struggle between sin and virtue continued elsewhere a strange occurrence began in the World of Shadow. In those lands covered by impenetrable mists it was thought that no life persisted amongst the darkness, that those unfortunate enough to wander into its depths were to be lost forever. But still there was one in recent history who would finally break free.

Athyd Grimēnan stumbled amidst the midnight fog, barely keeping himself from collapsing onto the ground. The thick grey-black mists of the Shadow appeared to swirl around him as he did so, disorienting his already muddled sense of direction. How long had he wandered this place aimlessly, attempting time and time again to find a way to escape to no avail? Clenching his staff and pushing forward, the mage grasped his forehead with his free hand. He was no longer sure. Time was a fickle thing in the darkness of the Shadow, what may seem to be a day to him could be a century and vice versa. Whatever the case truly be however, he felt as if he had been left blindly winding across this place for centuries if not millennia. Breathing deeply, the mage continued onward for some time lost in thought, until his worn boot brushed against something to his left with a hollow clatter. Curious, he lowered himself downwards, just barely making out it's shape amongst the little light that there was. It was the skull of a wyvern, or perhaps another similar creature. How such a beast came to this place and died was a mystery to Athyd, and it always would be. Uncaring, he once more began his solemn march. The Achisian mage had experienced many bizarre sights since the day his expedition met it's fate: the silhouettes of twisted structures in the distance, always keeping just out of reach, the thunderous steps of some unseen being, louder than even the mightiest roar of lightning, and of course that damned low-pitched drone. Athyd was sure he could hear it even now...

Athyd's mind felt as if it was in a fog as thick as the one that surrounded him as he continued forward, but not once did he allow himself to stop after encountering the wyvern's skeleton. There was so much more that he must do, a country for him to serve, an emperor to report to, and most importantly knowledge yet to discover. The last thought caused a feeling of twisted joy to rise in the mage's chest as he fantasied over once again fulfilling that insatiable desire that had ruled his scholarly life. History, science, military tactics, and above all the arcane, anything that may grant him even more knowledge and thus power was all that Grimēnan wished for. This pleasant thought would be abruptly interrupted as a frigid wind suddenly swept across the landscape, causing Athyd to shield his face. When it had passed the man lowered his hand, only to raise it once more, now in shock. The wind that Athyd had simply considered an annoyance had pushed the dark mists of the Shadow away from him, and a blinding light now reached his eyes from an opening shortly ahead.

In disbelief the mage fell backwards, but quickly realizing that this would likely be his only chance of leaving the land he had wandered for so long he resolved himself and sprinted forward with newly found energy. As he passed the dark mists of the Land of Shadow rushed behind him, reoccupying the space they had laid just before in a roaring whirl of grey. As Athyd passed through the opening the light was so brilliant and blinding that he could only vaguely make out his new surroundings. The tall grass at his feet swayed slightly in the soft breeze, the sharp smell of the sea was almost overwhelming, and as Athyd fully left the Shadow he could see in the distance a lone aspen tree. Exhilarated he stepped forward, only for blackness to once more invade his vision as he collapsed to the earth below unconscious.

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Saeria

She frowns, using his voice in that last one was a misstep on her part, one she will not repeat. So she speaks in her normal voice. "Ah but Sleep Princess, what is real? And how can someone who died be alive? No matter. They are answers I will get in time, and I have all of eternity to find them. But I am not a cruel angel so feel free to enjoy your desires that I leave you with... or perhaps they are real, because also how you perceive reality is also within my control..."

All of a sudden Meta's perception changes and instead of the battle she finds herself in she sees Ekatiz standing before her, unarmed and defenseless while Meta has a knife in her hand. Without thinking Meta attacks him with the knife and stabs him in the chest over and over again, his blood, warm and wet, splattering her face.

Then Meta looks up and, instead of Ekatiz's face, she sees Kiryl's face, his dead eyes staring back at her in shock, and when she glances back down she sees the knife she is still holding in her hand in his chest.

And then Kiryl melts away into thousands of hungry maggots and they begin to feast upon her, and Meta finds herself unable to move to save herself from them. They munch and chew and bite into her flesh. They begin to devour her eyes and crawl inside her head through the new opening. She opens her mouth to scream but they crawl inside that too and starts to eat her from the inside out. All the noise that fills her ears are the sounds of their chewing, even as they eat through her ears, all she can feel is their biting into her, she has been reduced to nothing besides food for the maggots to gorge themselves upon and grow into the next generation of flies.

[Fereni]

Saeria

"No, no," Meta hummed, rocking in place. "I know what's real. I've already promised him eternity, so you can do what you like. It doesn't matter, not at all!" Yet even so, the sight of Ekaitz in front of her, the chance she'd long desired there at last... if she forgot that it was a dream, just for a little while, that was all right, wasn't it? Of course it was.

Once, a long time ago, she had never thought that she would want to kill someone. The war had changed that, of course. In war, it didn't matter what she wanted, only what she would do to survive. Even then, she'd never thought she would enjoy it.

Now, she remembered the helplessness, and the fear, and the pain, and the rage, and it felt so fucking good, spilling over her in waves of red light and sound and joy, which wasn't quite right, joy was deep velvety blue-purple-black and dotted with white like the night sky, but in that moment it was bright, bloody red, and that was just fine with her.

The look of surprise on his smug face as he realized how badly he'd misjudged her, that now she would end him, it made her smile so, so brightly. She wouldn't hesitate even if she could have, just pulled the knife back out and stabbed him again, dragging it down, across, back up, back out and then went back for more. Liquid jewels flew around her, rubies and garnets dripping down her face, and it was all so beautiful and so exhilarating that she never, ever wanted it to stop.

But it did. No, it did worse than just stop. It changed, and the jewels faded to ash as she saw the glassy eyes of the one she loved, his face frozen in a moment of horrified betrayal.

All of the joy drained out of her in a moment, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything, could only stand and stare as the overwhelming void growing inside her threatened to consume her entirely. Yet it was not that which consumed her, in the end.

Kiryl's body shifted and swarmed, thousands of tiny creatures the same white as his hair and robes, and she understood. She was still a loyal servant, in the end, so she shifted as well, from a body into a home.

It was an odd thing, to be consumed. It itched unbearably, and it hurt, needle-sharp pains all over her body, but it made her happy, in a way. It was him, after all, or at least his remnants; if he was truly dead, then this was all she would have left. He still loved her, she could tell from the way that she wasn't simply abandoned. Being hollowed out like this was probably a blessing. It would be easier, she thought, to not have that fragile, half-dead heart, and instead something alive. She might have been dead, herself, yet she was still conscious, still processing, even past the time when she should have stopped being capable of it. She might have been dead, but she was filled with living things, and that was good. She would certainly never feel lonely again.

Instead of crying out in pain, in fear, in all of the things that she perhaps should have felt, Meta began to hum. She hummed soft reassurances, and smiled, and didn't stop smiling, because even though she had nothing else in the world, she would not be lonely. He would never leave her, just like he'd promised.

It didn't hurt anymore, she realized. Nothing would ever hurt again. His final gift, just as kind as always.

Yes. Everything was going to be all right.

[Dragos Bee]

Kyle Perrin-Palailogos, Arghyo

One of the best places for Kyle to think in was the small steam room attached to his Headquarters, a steam room which was expensive to install and enchant, but required only the barest of maintenance once everything was done. As he sat in the sauna room, clearing his mind through the heat and moisture, the young merchant mused on his activities and their ramifications.

Kyle had equipped his expedition as well as he could, paying for the best guards, planning the navigation routes as best as he could, and ensuring that the sailors had a steady supply of fruit jam to prevent scurvy. Now all that was left was to trust the Kartaran navigators he had hired and let the six ships sail for Zelkoris, hoping against hope that they return with a cargo of medicinal herbs that would more than give him the returns on his investments. Now, to pass the time, the merchant began to ponder how he would protect himself from the brewing counterattack, a counterattack made inevitable by the fact that he had ordered the abbot of Honeystead Abbey to reveal his involvement, and so exonerate Arghyo and the 'Ehr Faction' of Anselm, whose innocence needed to be established for the next part of his plans.

Doing so, however, meant painting a target on his back, especially if he failed to impress the 'Ehr Faction' with his actions, also another thing which was essential for his plans. He needed to convince them that Merchants, as a class, were not the enemy, that he and others stood for self-reliance and diligence, not sloth and avarice. Either way, it didn't help that these plans were not only fraught with obstacles, but were gradually built up as they went - His original strategy had been nonexistent, consisting only of meddling and intrigue in the nearby kingdoms in hopes that something would stick. But as he learned more about Anselm through books and conversations with people, his new plan had come together.

But what if everything went wrong? After all, while it is true that only fools felt no fear at all, there was still reason to be afraid of failure - Chance can be a cruel mistress, especially if his 'alliance of convinience' with the Librarium and the 'The Owl' came to light. Arghyo's authorities will not forgive such an alliance with an organization which was not just morally checkered, but also likely to endanger the Apostolic Principality's safety, and would be fully justified in banishing him. And so in addition to making sure that his intrigues were kept running and never fully revealed, he had to find a place to flee to should the banishment ever take place - Another reason why he needed to gain the favor of Anti-slavery factions in Anselm.

Of course, you can always cut ties with the Librarium if the going gets tough - 'The Owl' would gladly do the same with your company at the drop of a hat, his own mind whispered to him. You may even be likely to keep Eglamour - He likes you.

As he poured water on the coals at the center of the steam room, Kyle thought back to his own father, the idealistic dreamer who had adopted him, and his brothers, whom he hoped were not in any danger because of him or had gotten themselves into any danger on their own. If he were ever to be banished, Leon will inherit his holdings - Legal arrangements had already been established for such an eventuality. Little brother, how are you and Daniel doing? Are you two okay? Please send a raven or some other messenger once you two are able to.

He curled up, hugging his legs against his chest, thinking: I am lonely. I have almost everything now - A home, money, a cause and people who look up to me - but without my family beside me... I am nothing. And in his loneliness, he remembered his time as a slave, the collar and chains and the beatings and the small and large humiliations he had suffered.

If he hadn't gained his adoptive father's attention that day, Kyle would have been a mere whore, a mere pleasure slave whose talents were squandered and who didn't even have the right to his own body. Despite the happiness he had since gained, part of him was still marked by his childhood as a thing, a tool, a piece of property. Heck, even now, he might have bound himself to the cause of liberty so tightly it might be indistinguishable from slavery (ironically). Is such a thing even possible?

[Intermountain States]

Anselmian-Wyzkian Border
Jean-Marc Courvoisier

Jean-Marc and Viki walked to the campgrounds of the Jackal Group with their cloaks concealing their armors. The Jackal Group is just one of the many mercenary companies operating in Anselm. While much smaller than the (in)famous Black Band, they do get involved in raids across the Anselmian-Wyzkian Border and capture unfortunate individuals at the border. They also do business with the slaver Kaesar, someone a local lord put a bounty on. Any resourceful bounty hunter or vigilante tracking down Kaesar would seek out the Jackal's base of operations at the border between Anselm and Wyzkia.

"Someone is watching over us," Jean-Marc said to Viki as they walked over to the camp. "Over at the cliff, not from the camp," he corrected.

"You think that watcher is a friend or a foe?" Viki asked.

"We would know how that watcher responds to what we're about to do," he answered. A camp guard stopped them from the entrance.

"Halt," the guard said with his left palm out. "What business do you have with the Jackals?"

"We are humble travelers passing through and we're wondering if we could browse some of your recent additions before they would be shipped to the trading markets," Jean-Marc lied. The guard contemplated for a while then nodded.

"All right then, you may be taken to browse the fruits of our raids," the guard said. "However be warned that any aggression against the Jackal Group would net you a slow and painful death, with that lady over there suffering longer." He pointed at Vicki who only glared back. A guard lead them to the slave pen, containing three people, a woman and two boys, in a large cage. At the sight of the visitors, the captures begged the two to let them go free from behind the behinds. A man guarding the pens stood up from his chair at the arrival of hooded figures.

"These two would like to browse our captures," the guard said before returning to the entrance.

"Very well," The pen master said before turning to Jean-Marc and Viki. "These captures had yet to be processed to earn the right of being called slaves but we can sell you one of the captures, just at a higher cost than if we have them processed and sold at the slave auction."

"Why are we limited to just one capture for a higher price, my good sir?" Jean-Marc asked. "Why couldn't I buy all three captures, make it a bundle?"

"We have to meet a quota for the market," the penmaster answered. "We're still waiting for two other raiding parties with their captures, it would not look good for us if we only have one slave to sell at the market.

"Speaking of," the penmaster continued, eyeing the knight and his companion with suspicion. "We sent three raiding parties two nights ago, only one party returned with the captures last night and the other two have yet to arrive, despite their experience in the border. Wyzkia doesn't have central military presence in the border and the levies under their lords in the border areas don't tend to patrol far out from their lands.

"Then we have two armored figures walking to our camp, interested in browsing the loots of the only party that made it back on time." A few of the mercenaries got closer to Jean-Marc and Viki, interesting in what the penmaster is saying. "Perhaps you'd be kind to answer some of our questions?" the penmaster asked.

'Well, there goes the easy way out,' Viki said. Both Jean-Marc and Viki drew their weapons. In response, most of the Jackals in the camp surrounded Jean-Marc and Viki with their weapons.

"Gentlemen," Jean-Marc began. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way." One merc attempted to stab Viki with his spear but was met with a dagger to his eyes.

"I guess we're doing this the hard way then," Jean-Marc said once violence has broken out.

Anselmian-Wyzkian Border
Asche

The archers from the sentry towers at the front of the camp fell to swords launched from Asche's summoning as she entered the mercenary camp. She had to thank those mysterious people who entered the camp. With about half of the combatants seeming to be interested in fighting the two hooded figures, it was certainly easier to fight eight confused mercenaries than 19 at once. She projected two spears and launched them at two mercs running towards her and slashed other brigands with a sword she summoned. An arrow whizzed by her and with Petals of Heaven, she blocked incoming arrows and bolts coming from some of the bowmen ahead of her and countered with some of projected swords. The slaves working in the camp hid in fear at the sight of the ongoing rampage.

The two figures seemed to be doing well fighting against 11 mercenaries, more than she would expect. Even then, they looked like they could use some assistance, she might as well pick them off with her range attacks. Five swords and spears were materialized and flew against the mercs. She projected a sword and a shield and rushed in to assist the two figures, evening the odds in favor of the visitors.

Satisfied, she took a few steps back to scan for the man with the important looking armor. She sees him and two pikesmen guarding the man and she rushed towards them. She took care of the pikesmen with projection magic and lunged at the important looking man with a sword but he parried her attacks.

"What a skilled swordswoman you are," he said, gripping his sword. "You could have made a lot of money working for us."

"I'm only here to ask you questions and maybe kill you on the spot," Asche replied. "I may have been crossing Anselmian borders but I'm sure I'd make a killing turning in your head to local lords in Wyzkia."

"I'd like to see you try, girl," he snarled and blades clashed once more. The man swung with great strengths but Asche's attacks were faster. This however was offset by the man's armor well as none of Asche's hits penetrated through the armor. After a few more strikes, the man's sword were knocked from his hands and he was panting hard. He kneeled down in surrender and Asche kept her blade at his sight.

"Alright, tell me the whereabouts of Kaesar," she said.

Anselmian-Wyzkian Border
Jean-Marc Courvoisier

"Guess our watcher from the cliff is a friend after all," Viki said at the sight of a tanned, white haired woman taking Jackals with projection magic.

"And an adept mage at that," Jean-Marc responded, blocking a Jackal's slash and punching his face with his armored glove, enough to knock out some teeths from the poor sod's mouth.

Eventually, the fighting ended with bodies of Jackals all around the camp. The slaves and the captures in the camp were freed from their bondages with the freed people boarding a wagon for a trip to Wyzkia.

"Well, that was exciting but that took some mana," Viki said. "If you don't mind, I'm going to revert back to my base form for now." Jean-Marc nodded and Viki transformed back to the Holy Sword Victoire which he secured back to his scabbard. He turned around to notice a tanned woman surprised at the sight of the transformation.

"What the hell was that?" the woman asked. "That woman just turned into a sword."

"You know, in the midst of all of the fighting, we've never properly greeted ourselves," the knight said, extending his hand. "I am Jean-Marc of the House of Courvoisier and what you saw was a relic, a tool with a soul with a humanoid form and the base form, I call her Viki." The woman hesitated but then extended her hand as well.

"I am Asche, no last name because I don't belong to any houses or families," she replied. "I am a headhunter with Rogalski and Associates on a job hunting down a business associate of the Jackals."

"Wait, Rogalski and Associates?" Jean-Marc asked. "Do you by chance no a fellow by the name of Stefen Rogalski?"

"He's my employer," Asche replied. "How do you know of that man?"

"Scar by his right eye?" Jean-Marc asked to which Asche nodded. "I traveled with him years back when both of us were trying to perform charities to folks in Wyzkia. He talked about opening a mercenary company in Anselm."

"No shit?" Asche said. "Must be a small world, to think I would meet a friend of my boss. He told me that he attempted to get in the career of mercenary work in Anselm but left for Wodzimyśl and opened a bounty hunting business to which I'm the only employee in this company."

"The gods work in mysterious ways," Jean-Marc replied. "I am planning on heading back to Wyzkia while finding a place for these victims to take shelter in. I guess I should stop by at Wodzimyśl to say hello to an old friend."

"There is a town near the border called Pakrzyski that was victim to a raid by the Jackals," Asche said. "The sheriff of that town would be willing to provide these folks with temporary or permanent shelters." After some friendly chatting, the headhunter and the knight went their separate ways, Asche went deeper into Anselm to find Kaesar while Jean-Marc took a wagon to bring the freed captives and slaves a place to stay in.

[Zedeshia]

Outskirts of the Shadow

Athyd's eyes slowly opened as he rose to his knees, still somewhat blinded by the light surrounding him. Leveling his hand to his face and shading his eyes, the mage once again surveyed his surroundings. Before he fell unconscious he had seen for a brief moment the landscape that now laid before him, which out of shock he did not at first believe to be real. But no, now there was no doubt in his mind what he saw was true. Athyd was only a few meters away from the border of the Shadow, a swirling wall of cold mist that appeared to unnaturally cut through the otherwise pleasant landscape, lying in a flat plain of tall grass which stretched across an uninterrupted space with exception to a lone aspen tree lying on the horizon. In the distance Athyd could hear the distinctive soft sighing of the waves, while the passing wind carried the smell of salt and sea. Glancing upwards the man found the brilliant sun high in the noon sky, a sight he had not seen in what was an immeasurable amount of time. Athyd attempted to rise to his feet, but as he did so a terrible pain in his chest caused him to cough violently. There was something fundamentally wrong in his lungs that compelled his body to do so. Grey smoke expelled from his mouth with a searing pain, and as he continued to cough involuntarily this began to grow worse and worse. However, after many minutes this anguish ceased, and the mage at last unsteadily stood up, grasping the staff in his hand tightly. He could sense that lying in the bottom of his lungs there was still some of the mist that remained. Nonetheless, he began to march forwards.

Arriving at the thin tree that he had at first seen, Athyd immediately caught sight of something that sparked his interest. Lying against it's weathered trunk there was the body of a man in aged leather equipment, his bones picked clean until nothing but his skeleton remained. Growing closer, Athyd noticed an arrow of unknown make lodged into one of the skull's eye sockets, unrecognizable due to a break halfway in it's wooden shaft. A torn bag of rough burlap was at the skeleton's side, a few belongings scattered within. Carefully rummaging through these Athyd could only find two items of note: a small rusted dagger that could easily fit within the palm of his hand with an elaborate hilt engraved with a pattern he did not recognize and a smooth white mask capable of covering his entire face. He coldly claimed both for himself, the dead have no need for such things after all, and after a moment of thought casted a simple spell.

"Aehatm rebigne karrum aburast olus malqum."

Athyd's voice was dry and barely audible, it had been a very long time since he had last spoke. In fact, he could no longer remember speaking since that damned day when he found himself ashore that black beach and entered the World of Shadow. Still, something seemed to be wrong about the words that had left his lips as he cast his spell, perhaps an effect of his time in the Shadow. At the very least his magic was successful, the rust on the dagger withering away and revealing shining iron. Glancing out at the lands past the aspen tree, Athyd noticed a small body of water near the outstretched roots of the plant, barely a pond in size. Observing his reflection in the water, he became aware of his current appearance. His facial features were essentially unchanged since the day he entered the Shadow, though he was horribly pale, something that he failed to notice in the dim light of the place he had wandered. Meanwhile his hair was now dark grey in color, much different from the brown it once was, with a rough and unkempt beard that he had paid little attention to before. Strange, truly strange. Using the knife he found Athyd quickly cut his hair and beard into the shape of something much more manageable, and grasping his throat reached into the bag he had kept while traveling. Retrieving a shallow dish once used in experiments, he gathered water from the pond and once more cast a minor spell.

"Acncalus a im barisus miris."

A small flame appeared on the fingertip of Athyd, and surprised, he observed it closely. The flame was light grey in hue, and much unlike the spell as it should have been before it wavered unstably while releasing a faint hint of dark grey smoke. As he had suspected before, his words while casting magic were corrupted, and the result produced from this was unusual to say the least. The mage's mind rushed while considering the possibilities of what such a thing could mean and how he could utilize it in the future, his scholarly fascination in magic racing through his mind obsessively. As he pondered this, he carefully boiled the water and then relieved his thirst. His throat was incredibly parched, and the mere sensation of drinking broke his line of thought temporarily. Rising to his feet his mind was now turned to his current situation. How would he find his bearings and make his way back to civilization? He had no way to gain any information on the surrounding landscape, and even then it was unlikely that any type of settlement existed so close to the Shadow.

Fortunately, the Achisian mage would soon find an answer to his problem. Above him there was suddenly a long, high-pitched cry, and peering upward Athyd could make out the shape of a bird descending to the aspen tree behind him. As it perched itself firmly among the tree's branches he approached slowly, soon catching sight of it fully. It was a bird of prey with a distinctive brown and blue plumage: a red kite feasting upon the corpse of some newly hunted mouse or shrew.

"Perfect..." Athyd remarked to himself as he extended his staff forward.

[Tracian Empire]

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

"It's alright, Alina", he told her, still smiling, his voice still calm. It hurt him to see her like that, it really did. And he was afraid. What if he wouldn't be able to help her? What if what he would say would just make things worse? What if he would scare her more? It always felt like a gamble whenever he tried to help her like this. With no idea or plan, he always just tried to put his heart into it and to hope for the best. And more than anything, he knew that he had to stay calm. But even then.. "Alina, I..."

What could he say? Had he not been so careful not to say anything wrong he would already blurted out that it was impossible. Them having the same mother? Them being sisters? It made no sense. Their eye colors were slightly similar, but there was nothing else in their appearance that would have made anyone think that they were related. And Alina.. well, Anastazja was the daughter of the Grand Duke, while Alina was the daughter of a small noble. And both the Grand Duke and her father were married, and the Grand Duke.. the Grand Duke was the most honorable person Rafal had ever met, and.. the Grand Duke had met her, and had seen her, and he hadn't said anything, or reacted in any way to her.. and he just couldn't bring himself to believe that he would ignore her like that, and Alina's father.. he was so prideful and spiteful, there is no way he would have kept something like that a secret if he knew the truth, and, and...

And then he took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down a little. He knew.. he knew all too well that Anastazja had never met her mother. That she had disappeared shortly after she was born, and that while everyone thought that she had died in childbirth, her father had told her that she had disappeared, so that she wouldn't blame herself for her death. He hadn't thought about it too often, since he knew that it was a difficult subject to her, and a secret, and they had never talked much about it, especially not after what happened to his own mother. So maybe.. it wasn't completely impossible? But even so, even so... if he was so confused and bewildered by the very thought of it, he couldn't.. he couldn't even imagine how she felt.

"You... you don't sound crazy... and Alina.. you're not pathetic. You're not ruining anything.", he continued, trying to smile. "Having such thoughts, such feelings, and reacting like that to them... no one could blame you for it. It's.. it's.. I'm not even sure what to say. But I am sure that Anastazja won't hate you, no matter what. She's never been that kind of person, and I've known her my entire life. If there is anyone who wouldn't hate you, it would be her... even.. even if it's real." The red haired boy remained quiet for a few moments afterwards. "I don't know... I know that Anastazja's mother disappeared shortly after giving birth to her, and if you're saying that both your mother and hers had the same eyes, and the same name... but even so, maybe..maybe it's just a coincidence. I don't know how we could prove it. But even so.." He slowly took her hands into his. "I know that you won't believe these things, but I have to say them anyway. You're not a whore. You had no choice. You deserve to be alive, more so than many others. And that is simply not true. I know the truth. And I want to be your family. I want to be your husband." He smiled again. "Life is seldom fair, but Anastazja has always been kind. She doesn't hate me, even if she knows that I played a part in the death of her father. She never hated me even as i was the one trapping her in a marriage. I'm sure, with all my heart, that she won't hate you, and that she doesn't hate you. And no matter what Alina... I will be here. I won't hate you. I won't think that you're a whore, or that you're a pathetic. I want to see you happy. And no matter what happens, we'll both be here to deal with it. No matter what."

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Saeria

This time the Hero speaks with the voice of the woman she never got along with and eventually killed, Lidia. Her tone kind and cheerful, even fond, but behind that she hates what she is about to do but she has to in order to protect her from the slave crest. "It is good to have someone to rely upon, to give you strength, and I realize he has done much to help you in that regard... But what was his name?" She does the mental equivalent of kicking back and waiting for her to realize what she did.

[Fereni]

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

Alina listened to him, but she was still on edge, hyperaware. That was why she noticed it--the way he hesitated, the way he seemed to be choosing his words--and when she looked up, the way he was clearly having to try to smile--of course. How could she have missed it?

She pulled her hands back violently, standing up and backing away from him, looking him straight in the eye. "You're lying," she said with accusing certainty. "You're lying! You do think I'm crazy, you're just saying all those things to try and calm me down! You're trying to patronize me!"

"Stop with your ridiculous talk. Filling your head with fanciful notions is worthless. If you can't keep your head out of the clouds for even just a short time, you'll be useless as a wife, or are you too busy daydreaming to even understand that?"

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Of course, because I'm just poor, hysterical Alina, is that right? Too broken to think straight, too busy daydreaming to be sensible? Just a crazy little whore with her head in the clouds, right? You pity me, don't you? That's why you're doing all of this, because you feel sorry for me. That's why you always look at me like that--like I'm going to fall apart any minute!" Her hands were shaking, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to stop shouting at him. "Well, I know that, I know I'm broken, and I don't need to see it every time you talk to me! You just--you just sit there and you tell me all those lies with a smile on your face, but I can see it in your eyes, I can see how you really feel, and I hate it! Just because I need your help doesn't mean I need you to pity me. I don't want your pity!" The words spilled out of her mouth freely until she had nothing left to say, at which point she simply stood there, gasping slightly, the impact of what she'd just said hitting her all at once. "I-I don't--" She cut herself off and immediately moved towards the door, pulling it open only to see Anastazja just outside. Of course. She'd heard everything, hadn't she? Yet Alina couldn't think of a single word to say to her, no protests or denials, so she just ran.

What's wrong with me? Why did I say all of that? I don't want him to pity me, but I--he's the only person willing to help me at all, and he's probably furious now, and I--Why am I always so stupid?

She found herself back at the garden without even consciously thinking about where she was going. She wanted to hide, wanted to find somewhere safe, and that was where her instincts had led her. So she hid in a far corner, surrounding herself by tall flowers, and tried in vain to hide the sound of her own sobbing.

What's wrong with me...

Saeria

What?

"His... name?"

What sort of a question was that? She knew his name, of course. She was the one who had chosen it for him. His name was--his name was--his name was--

His name was--

Nothing. There was nothing, no matter how hard she tried to summon it to her mind. But that was impossible. She could never forget the name of someone so important, she could never--but then--

If she couldn't even remember his name...

Somehow, she felt like there was more slipping away from her, more than just a name. Her feelings, her thoughts--they were too clouded to make sense of, the intrusion into her mind and the theft of that single memory pulling on a thread that began to unravel much, much more.

Why was he so important? Why did she care so much? It was on the very edge of her awareness, but she couldn't quite grasp it. Why was she so--

There was something wet running down her face, she realized. She wasn't sure if it was her meager attempts to cry, or if it was simply the natural bleeding of the wounds Ekaitz had inflicted. She wasn't sure if it mattered at all.

It hurt. The feeling of violation, of intrusion, of knowing that someone else had access to her very thoughts and was taking them from her made her want to scream.

(The realization that her throat was raw led to a further realization that she had already been screaming.)

But why... did it even matter?

She couldn't seem to remember that, either.

[Dragos Bee]

Eglamour, Chovers, Duivene

As he paced his personal quarters, Eglamour knew that despite the need to resolve the question of his allegiances, investigations into the Steward needed to be continued, especially with Eric away. Payment also needed to be distributed to Valtonn (the other bard, Arghyo-trained) and the other servants who formed Kyle's spy ring in Chovers. Thankfully, Chat Blanc was an expert in smuggling in gold, with the latter adding to Kyle's stipend as gratitude for saving the Princess. Either way, Eglamour was able to pay the other spies for yet another full year of espionage - It helped that their hearts were further hardened against the 'Corrupted Faith' by what had happened to the Princess.

That didn't mean that his actions were without difficulty, as due to their public 'debut', the members of the spy ring now found it hard to move about or stay in contact with each other without being watched - If he were The Steward, he would have had the spy ring watched already, and would also have known that said spy ring had made an attempt on his life. So for now, Eglamour took note of anyone who was trying to pry information from him, whether by gentle or hard means, and compiled a list of those people inside his head. At the same time, he knew that with the Princess Alexis knowing of his spy ring, that things would be more difficult from now on.

It also didn't help that The Owl, his mentor, had messaged him, saying that The Librarium will not help the Princess of Duivene, one of the 'Seven False Heroes', beyond what hurt the Faith and the Hailarchy. So right now, all he needed to do was wait and watch, hoping for an opportunity to come. In fact, perhaps it was time to get in contact with Iliana de Valeria once she had been put back in her prison cell, although that carried its own risks. After all, he will need her for if the Steward let the Faith in again... Or if the Princess' undead sister attacked anew. Yes, he'd heard the rumors that the Achysian Restoration Society had provided forces for the Princess' undead sister. This, despite Augustine de Valeria's hatred for Necromancers!

A thought came to him, did others of the Seven Traitors become undead too? And if so, who raised them up? Or rather, what could? Did Mr. Augustine de Valeria know who could have done this?

For a moment, he pondered messaging the Achysian leader directly, but that might mark him for death. So for now, he'd just keep quiet... Quiet and watchful.

[Kingdom of Irhk]

Éric de Villegaignon - Duivene

His requests were attended. The once self-exiled knight was now Constable de Villegaignon, a noble once again, and one close to the Princess herself. Kartara awaited, the land where he lived a second life, away from the noble halls he now stood, as his eyes seemed to fixate on the brooch that was a proof of his status as a Constable under the royalty's service.

Even when clean and with his equipment checked, the winds of battle still ran through his head and through the city. Soldiers were buried, the Princess was recovering, and this particular period of time - the one after the battle, but not distant enough to be peaceful - was always one filled with contrasts: burnt barracks were thrown away, and new ones were put in the same place. Dead horses carried far away, and new ones quickly galloped to fill their places. And while every replacement was possible, and the city was going back to normal, there was still a faint presence in the breeze that reminded them all that it could happen again.

He strolled around, watching as the things seemed to naturally come into the place they once were. What held the hope of these people, civilian or soldier, in such a high place? Was their belief in the Ecclesiarchy? Perhaps the unshakeable faith that the Princess would always stand for them, and they would always stand up for her, in a partnership that never needed to be written down properly.

Lost in his thoughts and plans, a man ran across the courtyard, dodging the patrols, almost falling once in a while, losing his step.

"- Monsieur! Monsieur Éric!
- Just Éric, man! What is the reason behind this hurry? Is the Princess alright? Are we under attack?
- No, no Sir... It's...
- Catch your breath first, please!
- The Princess... asked us to check if your mount was still available...
- What do you mean by my mount?
- Your unicorn, Constable!
- He is... alive?
- I think so! Accompany me, please."

Éric followed the young stable servant through the corridors and paths, until he reached the pen. Walking through the horses and unicorns, Éric felt his heart slowly being filled with the feeling of anxiety, for meeting a long lost friend of sorts, an audacity that he once had, the overwhelming feeling of being able to overcome the battle and the peace of having a smart company that could cross the landscape. The heavy steps of the horseshoes raised the dust from the ground, shook the wood that kept the mounts apart from each apart, until their eyes met.

The now Constable stared deeply into the eyes of the slightly bigger than average black unicorn, that had a black and silver horn, who slowly calmed down upon seeing the Knight he once carried. The noise slowly subsided to give space to a silence that seemed to settle the difference and the years that kept apart rider and mount, restoring a synergy once believed to be lost.

Slowly, Éric guided the unicorn out, mounting it without any trouble, much to the surprise of the observers. The wild, unbreakable creature slowly did sharper and sharper turns, more elegant moves, in a steady and even more comfortable pace.

"- Constable! It... it is yours! It was always wild, how...
- He.
- Sorry?
- It's a he, name's Audace... always wild, until we bonded. I am lucky the bond is still active after all this time. I will just saddle this one and depart, if you don't mind."

The trusty mount was back to his hands, his titles restored, honour given back to him by one of the Seven Heroes... and yet, the man who seemed to get back everything he lost in the past now had to return to the isle who forged the man he was today. Stopping by a weapon stand, he picked up a rapier, a weapon he often used in the past, placing it in his saddle and staring at the horizon. With his brooch strategically covered by a layer of his cape on his shoulder, he took a deep breath.

"To Kartara we go now, Audace."

[Faal Lot Himdah]

Pynus of the Wind
The Merckburger Fen, Anselm
Making a Distraction

---

Pynus nodded in response to Adelheid's request. A distraction was easy enough, the problem would be making sure it was big enough to draw attention elsewhere. It only took Pynus a few moments to come up with an idea. So, as Adelheid presented her riddle to Mireille, Pynus walked up to Marina, grabbed her by the hand.

"I need you." was all Pynus said as she began to drag Marina away as they left the group. Pynus lead her out of sight as quickly and quietly as possible. Only when they were behind a building not to far from where the rest of the group was did she let go of Marina's hand.

"Sorry about the roughness." Pynus said keeping as quiet as possible, "Just needed to be able to slip out with you without anyone noticing. Anyways, I need your help... To make a big distraction. I have an idea. It's big and it's crazy..."

With that, Pynus smirked, "We are going to create a waterspout."

---

Nykolas Baltozys, The Archbishop of Patientia
The village of Bystravo, Zelkoris
Perhaps a more remarkable day?

---

"You heard the woman, give her some space." Nykolas said as he approached the crowd, and then looked at Gryffin, a mug of something in his hand, "Forgive them, it is very rare for someone with talents such as yours visits this village."

[Tracian Empire]

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

Nothing.

Rafal did nothing, and said nothing.

He had tried his best to help her, he had poured his heart into it, and it still hadn't been enough. It was even worse than that. He had upset her, he had angered her. He had betrayed her trust. He had made her think that he believed all those bad things about her, and he had hurt her. And knowing that, the realization of what had happened slowly creeping in.. it hurt him too. He had always felt, since the moment he had met her, that she was like a porcelain doll. The slightest wrong move could break her, shatter her into many pieces, splinter her so that she might never recover again. And he had always done all that he possibly could to avoid that. Since the moment he had met her on that field and had offered to escort her to the nearest city, without pressuring her for answer as to why she was there, all alone. There had been cracks, and he had found the truth, despite never seeking it, but he had always tried to help, and he had never been the direct reason for one of her breakdowns.

At least until now.

He said nothing. He did nothing. He didn't even flinch or move, his hands in the exact same position as when Alina had pulled her hands back. He hadn't even looked at her as she left, he hadn't noticed that Anastazja had been waiting right outside of the slightly ajar door, hearing everything. And as Anastazja, looking really dejected, and having quite obviously cried recently, decided against following Alina, and entered the room, looking at him, he did nothing.


The garden was silent, except for the pink haired girl's sobbing. She was hidden in a far corner, surrounded by tall flowers, but her cries could still be clearly heard all throughout the garden, and in her rush to get away from things, to hide, she had completely missed the one other person that was in the garden at such an hour. Not before long, the sound of footsteps was heard next to her, and then a voice. "Oh, my dear." An older woman, with white hair, eyes that seemed to alternate between red and blue, wearing a black dress. "Are you alright?", she asked, a warm and yet vaguely hollow smile on her face, and despite talking with Alina and looking at her, she knelt down next to her and started to tend to the flowers, clearing any weeds and watering them from a small bucket. "If there is anything you want to tell me, I'd love to listen my dear."

[Elysian Kentarchy]

The Last Admiral, Katara

From the Flame Untarnished a boat rows onto the shore and disembarking from it is the Last Admiral. After he gets on shore he turns around and helps the Maiden out of the boat, touching her as one would expect of a person handling someone who is sacred. After her two men with weapons, the Maiden's appointed guards and executioners should it come to it, step off. Seeing a couple of Katarans the Last Admiral comments. "I take it you are the ones who are to take me to Lady Hightide?"

"Yes." One of them replies and he nods.

"Very well. Then take us to her." They start walking and the Maiden takes the Last Admiral's arm, an honor to be sure to touch one of the Maidens, but also something born of practicality seeing as she has not been on any shore since the war ended.

[Dragos Bee]

Lady Admiral/Warmage Alessia, Kartaran Main Island

Highmountain was some distance away from the shore, but the Bearpact's men and women had provided several spare horses, and for when a river crossing had to be made, a boat, for The Last Admiral and the people with him to reach the Lady Admiral's citadel within a few days. Either way, once they had reached the Chieftess' Hall in the fortress-village, they'd find Lady Alessia, clad in furs as well as silk, and wearing a bone necklace on her neck, walking down to meet them on the steps of said hall and saying, "Admiral, Old Friend... I'm glad you came."

She sighed and continued, "Let's go on to inside the hall, where we can talk in private. I have a lot to brief you on, Admiral."

------

Once they were in one of the hall's more private rooms, Alessia told them of her role in the Drowning of Pekastro, and how she had trained several of the Shaman of her tribe and several others' the secrets of Fire Magic and other ways of working the Magic of the Oath. She also told them of how, due to her focus on this training, she had lost valuable time to press her advantage. So now, she was going to meet with the Galdrsson, a member of another leading tribe, to discuss a joint alliance and a fleet action by which the Bearpact's, the Last Admiral's, and his own navies would combine to intercept the Calarian reinforcement fleet.

Problem was that although they all shared a common enemy in Calaria, the Galdrosson had a soft spot for an enemy Kingdom (she didn't know which) and one of its nobles, who had helped organize his army, while the Bearpact was Pro-Achysian. Nevertheless, she believed that if The Last Admiral went with her to the meeting place in the appointed time, they can strike a blow against the Calarians that would be worth working with other enemies of Achysia, at least temporarily...

[Fereni]

Daniel and Leon Perrin-Palaiologos, Anselm

Mireille stared at him in silence for a long, long moment, and then her eyes narrowed.

"You're boring." She declared flatly. "That story was boring, that magic trick was boring, and you're boring. You're breaking your promise. I--"

Anselm
Merckburger Fen
Village

"I want my knight," Mireille said, growing more and more frustrated. "Shopping trip, too. And lots of sweets. You'd better have a good riddle or I'll be really mad."

She listened to the riddle thoughtfully, rocking back and forth. "I like this riddle," she finally declared. "I like it. I'm going to figure it out. Um... Um..." She started counting on her fingers. "Two, three, four, six, twelve... Four!" She held up four fingers. "It's four!"

Pynus of the Wind
The Merckburger Fen, Anselm
Making a Distraction

Marina grinned at Pynus as she was dragged off. "You'd better say that again later. And don't worry about being rough... Heh, I'll say that again later if you want me to. A waterspout, huh?" Her eyes lit up. "That really is big and crazy. Sounds like a hell of a good time to me, I'm in! We doing this right now, or we waiting to see if it all actually goes to hell first?"

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

Alina flinched briefly, looking up in fear, but relaxed as she saw who it was. Despite how others might have felt, she actually thought Adelajda's presence was rather calming. Her distant, entirely nonthreatening manner put Alina at ease very quickly, and with the older woman tending to the flowers as she spoke, it felt less like she was being scrutinized. So it was that, to her own great surprise, she found herself actually answering.

"I... It's fine," she said quietly. "It was my own fault. I... I argued with Rafal. I shouted at him, I said things I shouldn't have said... I'm sure he's angry... it was stupid of me, I know. He was right, of course, but I just felt so furious, and I don't even know why... I don't get angry like that, I've never done that before." She laughed tearfully. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've been so emotional lately, and ever since I got here, it's just been one thing after another... what a horrible impression you all must have of me. I'm sorry, I'm just going on and on... But he was right. When I think about it, of course he was. I was being ridiculous..." Yet even though she said that, she couldn't quite make herself believe it. It felt like too much of a coincidence. Maybe... at the very least, it was worth a try, wasn't it? But she was too anxious, she couldn't get up the courage to ask yet. Instead, she knelt next to Adelajda, and began to care for the flowers as well.

There was certainly something special about flowers; even before she'd gained her magic, she'd known. Flowers were vibrant and beautiful and alive, and no matter how harsh the winter, they would eventually break through the frost again. The earth healed itself, and the flowers were its symbols. If only I could get better so easily. The thought threatened to bring tears back to her eyes. It wasn't fair at all. Why couldn't she have been as resilient as the flowers in front of her, growing just as bright and lovely, again and again, even through bitter cold? Why couldn't she have had thorns, to make anyone who tried to touch her bleed? It was a bitterly ironic thought. She knew what people associated flowers with, and that wasn't her at all, was it?

To everyone else, she was just a pretty porcelain doll, wasn't she? She always had been. Fragile, delicate, beautiful, and most important of all, voiceless. Dolls didn't need voices, after all. All she needed to do was be silent and obedient and let people move her as they would, and if she shattered at a harsh word or a blow, well, she would just have to pull herself back together. But the pieces weren't fitting together properly anymore, the cracks were too open and visible. She supposed it was a hopeless case, then. If she'd been a flower, even wilting would only have been temporary, but she wasn't. She could hear them, could connect with them, but she was nothing like them. Pathetic.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind, not wanting to continue crying in front of Adelajda. There were some lovely flowers in front of her, trumpet-shaped, six-petaled orange blossoms that faded to a deep red on the outside, and she listened to their complaints, fixing what she could. It helped her calm down, and the gentle hum of contentment and gratitude in her mind reminded her that, at the very least, there was one good thing she could do. That helped her courage to return to her, and she finally managed to speak again.

"My lady," she asked hesitantly, keeping her eyes fixed on the flowers as she worked, "forgive me if this is an impertinent question, but... Did you ever happen to know a woman named Marysia?"

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Saeria

Saeria's face has a surprised expression on what is happening with Meta's memories, they had unraveled faster than she anticipated, but she speaks in the voice of Alexis of Duivene, kind and gentle, almost friendly really. "The memories need not be lost, they can return easily, all you need to do is answer a few questions... that is all you need to do. But if you do not I fear even more will be lost." Mentally this is almost the equivalent of her plucking the petals off of a flower, each petal representing a specific memory or topic.

She is almost done with Meta anyway.

[Fereni]

Saeria

That voice. That--what was happening to her? Nothing felt real, nothing made sense. Questions. Questions. She had to answer questions, or she'd forget more. But she couldn't answer them. Why couldn't she answer them? She couldn't remember, she couldn't think, what was so important? No, no, she did know why. She couldn't answer, because it was that damned prince, and she hated him, she hated him more than anyone else in the world. Yet there was something else, wasn't there? Something so important, but she couldn't seem to remember exactly what it was. Still...

"I won't," she gasped. "You bastards... I won't give you what you want. I'll never give you what you want. I despise you... I despise you with every fiber of my being, you disgust me, and I don't need all of my memories to know that! So I'll never, never tell you anything!"

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Saeria

Her voice doesn't change to a new one but she says simply. "Oh but Sleep Princess, you have indeed given me everything I need. Allow me to explain a simple principle of my magic, my domain is the mind, nothing more and nothing less. I have the power to alter memories, erase them, cause you to have nightmares... and to read your memories given enough time and enough pointed effort. Admittedly your mind is very strong so it took a lot more poking and prodding than normal but I didn't want to hurt you by suddenly ripping them out of your head so it was worth the effort." She would explain more of the complexities of what she did in Meta's mind but she doubts she would be interested so she concludes. "All in all while your resistance was admirable, it was, ultimately, pointless, because I have found my answers. But as I said, I am not cruel, so I will restore that which I have taken from you. For now, sleep, Sleep Princess." With that she raises a hand to Meta's face and causes her to pass out as and the memories flow back into her, the flower restored to its previous state.

After doing that she turns to Ekatiz and speaks calmly as she sorts through what she has learned, well that and to recover from how much power she used to knock out Meta given what she is. "She didn't know or remember that much, much of her memories is just... gone and I cannot retrieve them, if I had to guess whatever brought her back possibly corrupted her memories but I have never seen anything like this personally. As for her... prince... he went off to another glade with several of the Archbishops of Sin for some sort of boon or something."

[Ceystile]

The Church
Upon entering the church the first thing the group sees is a young woman who is clearly not the angelic Saeria, and, considering the ears on top of her head, it is clear that she is either not entirely human or not human at all, talking with a group of a dozen soldiers, clearly hardened veterans and all of them have the symbol of the Cult of Castitas somewhere on their clothing or armor.


Sable

Having received a description of her I bow deeply before Cecily. "Archbishop Cecily, it is truly an honor to meet you. I am Sable, Lady Saeria's only acolyte and member of the Cult of Chastity." After doing that I look at the ground, unused to being around so many strangers without my mentor with me and I rattle off what Lady Saeria told me to say. "About your message I regret to inform you that Lady Saeria was called away at the last moment to assist on a mission, it turns out that several, if not all, the Archbishops of Sin had gathered in a meeting so she joined up with Prince Ekatiz to attack it and hopefully take them out." I scratch the back of my head and keep my eyes on the floor. "Prince Ekatiz is powerful but so are the Archbishops so backup seemed like a good idea and none of the other Heroes were apparently able to quickly assist. She assured me that if she is not back later today she will be tomorrow, she can fly extremely fast thanks to her magic and when she does she will be completely at your disposal to assist. In the meantime she ordered me to do everything in my power to help you with the rest of her entourage," I gesture at the dozen soldiers, "and suggested that we try to capture cultists of Luxuria while we are also searching for your missing sister and members of our cults so she can interrogate them upon her return, her talents in that regard being most excellent. While I am not up to Lady Saeria's level she has praised my abilities as a hunter and tracker so I should be able to help you out on the hunt. I beg your forgiveness if my master's absence causes offense to you but the Archbishops of Sin gathered as one is a threat that could not be ignored."

As Roter, Zed and Cecily entered the church, the first thing she noticed was the suspicious quiet. "Usually this place is bustling...where in the nine hells is everybody?" A gauntleted hand slid down to her mace hilt, wrapping around it without unsheathing it. "I don't like this guys." She was then snapped out of her thoughts by an approaching voice somewhere above her, standing straight and turning around to face whoever the source was. It was a small group of soldiers accompanying a young woman with blue hair and what appeared to be the ears of a...cat? Fox? She certainly didn't recall seeing this girl around the Church before, analyzing her with her green eyes until she suddenly bowed and started to explain herself. Apparently her name was Sable and she was an associate of Saeria's.
"So, Saeria's not here then?" The girl seemed almost painfully shy, she didn't even look at the group. "Do you happen to know where she might be?" Her voice went from suspicious to more gentle, younger girls seemed to bring out the older sister instinct in her.

She sat back and listened to Sable tell the rest of her story, and gestured to the group of armored fighters around her. "Well it's a shame we couldn't catch her, but that does seem like a good idea...if the Sins are gathered in one place, this would be the perfect time to strike at them...cut off all the heads of the Hydra at once. But these are also archbishops, so we do need to be careful. Do you happen to know where they're supposedly gathering? We should probably take some extra precautions before we go, but another part of me wants to head out as soon as possible." She then talked to Roter and Zed without turning around to them. "What do you guys think?"

[Dragos Bee]

Roter-Kaufmann Palaiologos and Zed Argentum

Roter tried to correct Cecily, "I think that the Archbishops of Sin are not the ones who have been kidnapping Cultists of Virtue close to our border, Cel - The latter sounds like the work of their underlings. Plus Saeria's one of the Seven Heroes, I think she and whoever she brought with her can handle the Archbishops by themselves."

Zed, meanwhile, thought, Cel wants to take on the Archbishops of Sin right away, right now?! Archbishop of Virtue or not, this would be a problem! So he added, "I think we should go with Sable's plan, that way, we can not just rescue your sister easier, but we can also gain even more experience in fighting the Cult of Sins. Then if the Archbishops even survive Seria and Ekatiz's attack, we can go after them when we are even stronger than we are now."

No offense, he thought, but we will just all get in their way. And as a flipping Cambion, I am more vulnerable to the Authorities of Wrath and Envy. Seriously, Cel, what are you -

He caught himself just in time for Roter to think back through the mind-link, Zed, be careful with your anger. Cecily does not deserve that.

Zed breathed deeply, before he said, I know. But you know I have a point, right? I hope Cel listens to reason.

[Tracian Empire]

Grand Duchy of Wyzkia
Opalinski Castle

The older woman simply smiled, still not looking away from her flowers. "You shouldn't worry too much about it my dear. Arguments and fights are normal, even among people who truly love each other. Sometimes people find it difficult to control their emotions, regardless of who is right and wrong. In fact, usually it's even more difficult to control your emotions when you're arguing with someone you love. What's important however is to sort things out after. If you learn from the fight, then it can help strengthen your own feelings and your relation with the other person. I used to argue with my husband a lot.", she said, giggling. "He is always too stubborn for his own good, and while his loyalty to his realm and to his duties is something to be admired to, knowing that he is out there, risking his life, and being away for him for such long periods of time.. whenever he returned home, I became too emotional and we argued. But it was all good in the end.. even if he's certainly going to receive a big beating me from me once he returns.." She then stopped, remaining silent for a few moments, before seemingly remembering something else and continuing. "And you shouldn't worry about Rafal my dear. He's always been a child with a soft heart. I've never seen him stay angry with someone for too long, that even in the few situations when he got angry with someone to begin with. He's probably worried that you are the one who is upset, and if you'll simply tell him the truth and apologize I'm sure he'll understand."

Adelajda didn't turn around to look at her or reacted in any other way to her presence when she knelt down next to her, both women tending to the flowers in silence. Even as tears continued to swell up in the pink haired girl's eyes, the older woman barely seemed to even notice that she was there, carefully and expertly taking care of her flowers, something that Alina would have found very easy to notice by listening to just how happy the flowers themselves seemed to be. The garden was quite clearly an obsession for the woman, it had to be, in order for her to be here, taking care of it at such an hour, but the calm and relaxing atmosphere out here made it very clearly why such a place was perfect for her.

As Alina asked Adelajda about Marysia, Rafal's mother initially didn't react at all, but a few moments later she slowly stopped what she was doing, seemingly deep in thought. "Marysia.. ah, my dear, if you are talking about the same person, then yes, of course I knew her. We were both ladies in waiting for the previous Grand Duchess, may her soul be eternally happy in the heavenly fields." The woman smiled, turning her head around for the first time that night and looking right at Alina with her eyes, their color seemingly alternating between red and blue much like the eyes of her son. "She was an exquisite court lady, extremely well versed in the etiquette and ceremonies of the ducal court. She was the one the Grand Duchess could always depend on, and she was the one the Grand Duchess usually entrusted with taking care of the younger court ladies. She was always extremely kind and friendly, and would always help you no matter what. And she was quite well known in court. She made her name and family proud, and she was extremely beautiful, we used to joke that she could pass for a Princess of Duivene if she wanted to." Adelajda giggled again. "She always had the fanciest dresses, and she used to make them herself. My favorite of her creations was a white dress, beautifully decorated with flowers, and with a veil that imitated the wings of a dragonfly. Everyone used to notice her during the masked balls that the Grand Duchess so dearly organized." Her smile disappeared for a moment. "Quite a shame that she had to marry the way she did. She could have gotten a much better match if her family would have waited a little longer. She even attracted the attention of Konstantyn, the current Grand Duke, during one of the balls. He even gave her a magnificent gift, a necklace, with a beautiful green diamond. Truly worthy of a beauty such as her. We gossiped for a while about it, but of course, she was already married." But the smiled quickly returned to her expression. "I haven't spoken to her in a very long time though, since I left the ducal court after marrying and remained here in the castle, taking care of it and of the estate while my husband was away. Why are you interested in her though, my dear? "