ã€ŠThe Overlord of the New Worldã€‹


 Chap 1: A light in the dark

    PROLOGUE

    The devastation of the battle altered inexorably the scenery: the lush radiance of the valley was replaced by the putrescent and unsettling miasma of death. Numerous corpses, or at least what remained of them, decorated the area, giving the sight an unpleasant and miserable feeling.

    The sun was setting, indifferent to all this.

    A small group tried to piece together the remains of the dead bodies that rested on the ground as best as they could; but the conditions of some were so disastrous that they left no choice but to bury the little that remained, to give them at least some semblance of dignity.

    In the midst of it, a young woman was kneeling on the ground while her hand tenderly held that of one of the fallen victims left in the area. Bitter tears bathed what remained of her dear friend as her long hair, blond as wheat, fell tousled over her shoulders.

    A chaste kiss was placed on the forehead as a final sign of farewell.

    The woman was shadowed by a larger and more majestic presence bathed in a pure white light with shining gray contours. Its shape was so breathtaking that it overshadowed the landscape itself with its sheer radiance.

    The being was covered with shining scales whose color resembled the most precious platinum. The silvery white that covered it reflected the morning sunlight, giving rise to a prismatic effect that blessed the surroundings with its colors.

    His shape and characteristics distantly resembled those of a giant lizard. But there was something regal and divine about him, his features screaming royalty and magnificence, regalia of a bygone and remote era whose perfection had been lost.

    Attached to his body, a pair of gargantuan wings towered proudly. Their size was so immense that it would not have been foolish to think that they could cover an entire kingdom with their shadow.

    Even before myths were written, when the world emitted its first wails and the beating of the first hearts began, his race had watched over creation, unwavering guardians of ancient truths and custodians of lost knowledge.

    The dragon looked at the girl and the body lying beside her. More than once he tried to open his mouth to try to emit a sound, anything to end the painful silence, but failed to do so. His breath was a fire, and the air continued to be warmed by his continuous sighing.

    The silence became more and more unbearable, placing an invisible wall between them.

    In the end, it was the girl who spoke first: "It''s useless, Tsa! Riku declined the resurrection. It seems that the weight of guilt he carried with himself was too great¡­" a muffled groan placed a halt to the woman''s voice. She forced herself, for she had to be strong for everyone. Riku would have wanted it that way. "Even for him. I hope our leader has finally found the peace he seeked, at least."

    The dragon uttered a lament, the sound of which could have been mistaken for the weeping of the land itself. An ancestral noise, the intensity of which covered with its sorrow the very essence of reality.

    Riku''s body was enveloped in a mysterious light, momentarily beginning to glow with a half-hearted intensity. For a tiny, minuscule moment, it seemed to come back to life.

    The corpse stood up ungainly, almost as if it were a puppet being guided by an expert manipulator. The woman somersaulted to the ground, her mouth stupefied with surprise. She approached it, touching it slowly. The coldness of that corpse broke the illusion, bringing her back to reality.

    "What are you doing? What is this blasphemy?" The horror of seeing her old companion reduced to that state, almost as if he had been an inanimate object devoid of will, was a deep stab in the heart of the woman.

    "It''s all my fault, Rigrit!" Tsa watched that pale imitation of life to which he gave form, but even that grotesque spectacle could not relieve his suffering. "If only I had been honest with you from the start, none of this would have ever happened. The world has lost one of its greatest protectors, and all because of my kind. No, because of me!" Tsaindorcus Vaision looked up to the sky, as the setting sun disappeared into the horizon. "I have¡­ I have to do something! Anything! Why? Why? Why can''t I do anything?"

    Regret. Could a dragon have such a human feeling? Or was it only an imitation of what lurked inside the hearts of those who fought for him?

    Rigrit dared not to give herself an answer.

    The woman could not accept these words. No, it would have been more correct to say that she rejected them with all her being.

    "You have nothing to do with what happened here, and I''m sure he too would agree with me; please don''t tear your soul apart for what we''ve witnessed. That dragon, that filthy being, had nothing in common with you!" How could one compare that affront to all that was holy and wonderful, to her old mentor?

    "I beg you, stop this insanity!" Rigrit continued, heartbroken but firm in her conviction. "I have already lost too many companions today; I will not let another one drown in despair." Tears came copiously out of her eyes. They had waited no longer for the woman to put an end to her holding back, and were now furrowing her face, finally free.

    "Yet Riku and his friend would not have died if it wasn''t for my father''s lust for power." The dragon remonstrated. Shame. This was what Rigrit read in his face. A guilt that fell on his friend, and which nothing, she realized, could alleviate.

    "And not only them! Even the Six Great Gods or the Eight Greed Kings perhaps would have had a better fate if not for him. Eventually these players found themselves catapulted into an unknown place only for the insatiable greed of my people. We have contaminated the world first, not them."

    Rigrit collected her thoughts; what would have been the best thing to do? Try to console him? Tell the dragon that his father''s mistakes didn''t befall on him? Would it have had any meaning at that point?

    Players. Advents. The Theocracy. Everything was a blur in her mind, and many details still did not fit together.

    The only thing she knew, the only thing she could not accept, was that Riku was dead. And with him part of her.

    In the depths of her heart, she had not yet forgiven Tsa for deceiving them. Yet, the memory of her companion who had saved her many, too many times, overcame any resentment she might have felt.

    ''Riku, how did you always know the best thing to say? Why do I feel so lost without you?'' The whirlwind of those thoughts collided with the harsh and bitter realization of reality. Had it been a dream, or a nightmare, the awakening would have been even sweeter.

    But Rigrit knew that at the dawn that was to follow, nothing would ever be the same again. The sky would seem less blue, the food less tasty, the beer less inebriating. Something had been torn, and trying to stitch the pieces back together was no longer possible.

    "Here," the dragon leaned his old friend beside her, taking the utmost care that nothing could cause him the slightest disturbance, almost as if he were still alive. "Take care of him for me. Don''t¡­ don''t leave what remains of his body to the mercy of vultures."

    "I will honor his memory with my whole self," the woman replied. "He will live on. Just not in the way we wish."

    It was time for goodbyes and, however difficult, it would not be sorrow that would accompany them in those final moments.

    He was a legend now. And legends had no place among them, but high above, in the sky.

    Whenever night would fall, Rigrit would be able to see Riku again among the stars. And she knew he would look at her.

    At the same time, a hooded figure approached them, whispering words full of grief. "If only you had fought in your true form from the start. If only Riku hadn''t sacrificed himself for us. If only I could have done something, anything. If only... if only... Only this remains for me, while my comrades lie here, alone."

    Small and slender, the little Keno. She had always been a crybaby, but this time the tears that ran down her face were no object of derision.

    "It wasn''t your lies that hurt me. It wasn''t your lies that did this. To be strong, to deceive friends as much as enemies... I understand that." Keno continued to wipe away her tears, which continued to flow faster than she could stop them. "I understand why you did all this. I really understand it. And yet... and yet I cannot forgive you. I can''t."

    The voice was filled with resentment and rage. Anger at the dragon for arriving when everything, by then, was too late.

    But especially at herself. For her worthlessness. A feeling Rigrit knew all too well.

    "My hands are stained with blood. Blood that is not mine¡­" Keno continued rubbing her palms, until the skin was consumed. "Whose blood is this? Yours, perhaps? Tsaindorcus Vaision, who are you? I thought you were my master, I thought you were my comrade, I thought you were my friend. Was it all false? Or was it all true? I don''t know what would hurt more."

    The other survivors had gathered around the girl. In all, only five of them remained, including Rigrit. The other three, a regal-looking elf, a thick-armored female ogre, and a man cloaked in shadows said nothing, but their gaze made it clear to the dragon that they shared the same feelings.

    "I was your friend, I was your comrade." Tsa replied. "But most of all, I was my father''s son. I will not attempt to justify myself, for there are no suitable words to do so." His scales were jewels of immeasurable value, whose hardness surpassed the purest adamantium and whose luster was more sparkling than any diamond. "Protector of the world. What a joke!"

    The moonlight, which timidly began to make its appearance, covered his face, which appeared shattered.

    "The sins of the fathers fall on the children. And I have run away from my responsibilities for a long time. I can''t fix what happened here, but I can at least make sure it will never happen again. It''s time to put an end to this endless cycle of destruction. I don''t know if it will work, but let me make amends."

    There was... peace in his words.

    "Tsa, what are you going to do?" Rigrit asked, trying to keep her gaze on the figure about to take flight. The cloud of dust that was beginning to rise from the beating of the dragon''s wings concealed his being from view.

    "We are mad but we don''t want you to hurt yourself. No matter what happens, we are companions to the end, remember? Just like Riku used to say. We can''t lose you too." The woman tried to reason with her old friend and teacher, but it was too late, for the decision had already been made.

    "If there is anything that you all have taught me, it is to act in accordance with your beliefs, no matter what the consequences." Hovering in the air, Tsa shone with a newfound glow. The sumptuousness of its figure would have brought envy even to the stars in the sky. "If wild magic started the advent, wild magic will end it."

    "What will become of you?" A vice gripped Rigrit''s throat. "Do not confuse martyrdom with hope, I beg you."

    Keno also did not know how to respond. "Wait¡­" she tried to say. But the girl''s voice was faint, and Tsa already far away.

    "...Useless..." Muttered the elf between his teeth.

    "Master," the other woman repeated those words, with no one to repeat them with her.

    The hooded man merely lowered his head, remaining silent.

    "Do not make this farewell sad. No more than it already is. My friends, I give you one last task: protect Eryuentiu! Don''t let its weapons fall into the wrong hands. Especially in those of the Cardinals. Use the nation I founded, the Republic of Argland, to fight the Theocracy. And to keep Riku''s dream alive."

    "Will we ever meet again?" Rigrit asked.

    "That, I don''t know. But deep down in my heart I am relieved to know that I leave this world in your hands." The dragon gave them a final greeting as a warm feeling reminiscent of kindness emanated from his voice. "Eventually, we will find ourselves among the stars. If not me, you and everyone else for sure."

    His figure had now almost completely disappeared.

    "Goodbye, my friends, take care of yourself. Love this world as I have loved it!"

    And with these words, he took off while what remained of the brave heroes remained motionless, quiet, to honor their lost friends for the last time.

    CHAPTER 1: A light in the dark

    Nazaire walked the streets of Silksuntecks.

    In the sky, night was approaching. People were starting to close their shops and stands, ready to retire to their homes after a hard day''s work. But not before sharing a word of parting and love, to rivals and friends alike. Competition, the spirit of commerce, flourished in the souls of merchants and workers; and abundance, never too much, poured out of every nook and cranny, of every open window.

    The sweet scent of different delicacies, ranging from flavored buns with a thousand different seasonings to cakes whose chocolate flowed into the mouths of adorable brats, wafted out of doors left open, free to conquer the air with their perfume.

    More than once, Nazaire had to turn down the invitation of some acquaintance to share a meal or a good glass of wine. More than once, Nazaire stopped to admire what was a simple scene of everyday life, completely enraptured.

    It was not cold; a light breeze chased away the lingering mugginess, but Nazaire felt the need to huddle more tightly in the long black pastern she wore over her habit.

    She had a prayer book with her, with a small marker pinned to one of her favorite passages. The pages were turned quickly, although the contents were known to her. On that starless night, Alah Allaf''s grace and mercy enveloped her with the same intensity with which they had graced the Great Penitent.

    As the streets were beginning to empty, only the city guards remained in sight.

    A slight cough cleared her throat.

    Nazaire, absent-mindedly greeted one of them, with whom she had crossed paths more than once on her route. The guard affectionately returned the greeting.

    "Going somewhere?" He asked, offering his arm for support. He had noticed Nazaire''s unsteady walk, concession to the bag of provisions she carried over her shoulder, and the numerous wrinkles that dotted her face.

    "Only on the way home," Nazaire replied, rejecting that kind gesture gracefully. The guard was young and attractive, not yet a man made and finished. So splendid was he in his armor, shining and radiant like a blazing sun, that he made the woman''s face blush and made her feel once more like a young maiden. "Not far to go, but I am infinitely grateful for such consideration," she said, lowering her head both in respect and gratitude. Respect for those who put their life on the line for the sake of peace. Gratitude for the gentleness shown to an old woman as hers.

    "Very well. But be careful, my lady." A reassuring smile, the kind that would dispel all fears. "May Alaf''s light illuminate your way, and Lagusa''s fire warm your evening."

    "I will, my gentle soldier." Not that there was any need. Nazaire had spent most of her life in the capital of the Slaine Theocracy, and the number of incidents that had required more than a bored shrug could be accounted for on the fingers of one hand. "May Imirduo grant you the fortitude needed to protect us all."

    She took her leave of him, but not before reciting a few evening verses. It was only a few hours before midnight and vespers had long since said their farewells, so the invocation was short, but not lacking in intentions. As tradition dictated, a blessing wished upon one''s neighbor was a blessing wished upon oneself.

    In the center of Silksuntecks, the Six Great Cathedrals rose to the sky, until they touched clouds and stars with their tips, connected to a micro cosmos of small churches and palaces. With bricks and blood, they had been erected. Bricks as black as darkness, and blood even blacker. The blood of the last among the first men.

    Nazaire had never visited a king''s palace, nor had she ever laid eyes on the sumptuous dwellings that some people foolishly flaunted in order to stand above their peers, outside the Theocracy. Yet, it was certain in her heart that such beauty could not be equalled, that such terror and awe were not replicable, as they were work of the divine.

    Entering that small citadel was like entering a world of its own. Members of the clergy, like little ants, kept moving from one point to another, endlessly busy. There was always something to do, someone to help. Priests and bishops passed papers and missives to each other, argued animatedly with soldiers and tribunes, accepted offerings from the rich and dispensed advice for those who were lost.

    Most of all, of course, they were intent on celebrating the glory and magnificence of the Gods. It did not matter the time or the weather. Rain or shine, at the crack of dawn or when the moon was at its zenith, continuous litanies cheered with their musicality the passage of all who entered the inner part of the sacred city.

    Yes, her nation was truly the jewel of humanity, the legacy of the Gods to mankind.

    ''Or so I thought in the past.''

    Her pilgrimage stopped at the entrance to the Cathedral of Darkness. It was passed down to have been, among the six, the first to be erected. And it was also whispered that it would be the last to fall, should the time of humankind come.

    At the entrance, an inscription was placed that read: "Purge your body of vices and sins, you who enter." A small bowl with holy water was offered by the priest who controlled the entrance of all worshippers, completely covered in a robe as dark as night, devoid of color except for a few star-shaped motifs that adorned it.

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    "Sister, do you know what to do?"

    Nazaire nodded, and then dipped her fingers in the water. Still wet, she brought them to her forehead first, to the rest of her face after, beginning to trace small approximations of the symbols of the Six Great Gods.

    When that ritual was finished, she was invited in. The reception hall of the Cathedral of Darkness was cold, icy cold. Low-pitched organs played the same melancholic melodies again and again, while pleading choirs implored mercy.

    Surshana''s statue towered over everything and everyone, as it had done when he was still with them, in a past never forgotten; as he did in their present, always remembered; as he would do until the last breath was drawn. Only then would his work come to an end.

    Nazaire approached it. Surshana''s face was not visible, covered by a black veil, except for scarlet eyes that were always ready to observe the watcher, it was meaningless which way one looked. The rest of his body was also covered by a purple tunic, with no additional trappings. The left hand protruded forward, the only part to be shown off. On the left fourth-finger, a golden ring glittered warmly.

    Nazaire had to lean forward a little to bring her lips to contact with the pure white bones, perfectly replicated by the craftship of the marble. She kissed it tenderly, taking care not to leave even the slightest trace of saliva on it. Then, after pulling away, repeated that gesture with the ring she wore on the same finger, on which was engraved the symbol of the God of Death.

    ''Remember that you must die,'' were the words of the Cardinal when the sacred oaths were taken, long ago. In her memories, they were still fresh and new. ''Those who marry the God of Death, more than all, live with this reminder beside them.''

    Many years had passed since then. Her natural husband had also died, and her children had left the nest, but Nazaire had never felt lonely. Surshana was always there, with her.

    Nazaire felt a chill.

    She had remained in contemplation until the late hour, when everyone, even the most faithful, began to retire. The woman was careful that others had not remained in the cathedral before she approached the statue again. Behind it, there was a door. It led to one of the Cardinal''s offices.

    Nazaire opened it. But she did not stay there for long. Below one of the desks, a trapdoor led to her destination: the underground of the church. A gigantic spider''s web stretched beneath the capital, in the darkest part of the city, set so deep that the light from outside could shine through.

    When she started her duty, thirty years ago, she had been assigned an expert guide to navigate the gigantic network of tunnels that lurked in the most secret part of the city.

    But after years of trials and errors, she now knew the way perfectly. All those burrows no longer held any secrets for her.

    After all, the point of arrival had always remained the same.

    One of the bifurcations led to a small underground arena. Tradition had it that it was built by Imirduo, God of the earth, to train the first generation of Scriptures to fight the demihumans. There, in that place, had succeeded generations of valiant and unblemished heroes, whose history had helped to establish the Slaine Theocracy, with sweat, toil and sacrifice.

    A sacred place, it was. Sacred like many others within Silksuntecks. In fact, it would have been very difficult to find a single space where history did not overflow in the capital.

    But history, it was known, was also a harsh and implacable teacher who did not tolerate mistakes.

    And a lesson was now taking place right in front of her.

    Nazaire thought about closing her eyes, but forced herself to watch, no matter how painful it was.

    Her pain was nothing, after all.

    ''Remember that you must die.''

    Everyone would die one day. Even her.

    A woman with long black wielded a sharp spear, pointed at no one in particular. She was challenged by a young girl with a delicate appearance and a fragile constitution. No more than a baby, who one would have ever guessed had left the cradle that long ago. Against all common sense, Nazaire watched them from afar, forcing herself not to intervene.

    The child''s hair was perfectly divided into two colors: the left side was pure white, while the right one a dark black that matched the other woman''s hair hue. The eyes also preserved the same color symmetry, only inverted.

    The little girl was out of breath, her face covered by blood. She was holding onto her right arm with the left one, meaning it was probably broken. Her fingers were clutching a metal club, on which the vital fluid had run down her forehead and arm, almost as if the red was rust that had contaminated the pure silver of the weapon.

    ''Merciful be the Gods. Today the lady seems to be in a good mood.''

    The situation would have prompted anyone to rush to the child and get her to safety, which Nazaire, the first time she saw the scene, had foolishly done.

    The other woman, Faine, had only looked at her that day. She had not raised her hands to her or done anything else to bring harm.

    But Nazaire had felt her breath catch and terror devour her courage . It had been as if someone had slipped a sharp knife just under the skin, and forced her to watch as the blade slowly crept up to her neck, stopping just before it broke free with one fatal cut.

    Since then, just addressing the woman was a source of stress and delirium. Even uttering a word made her break out in a cold sweat, and every time she saw Faine''s cold, black eyes move slowly, recognising her presence, Nazaire was moved only by a primal instinct, begging her to flee.

    When it came to Faine and the training of her daughter, there was no one who could get in the way.

    ''At least, not me.''

    The blood of the Gods was strong in Faine. As it was in Antilene, her daughter.

    And the blood of the Gods required sacrifice. A sacrifice that ordinary mortals like her could not understand, even if they wanted to. Not even if they aberrated it.

    Faine''s fist slammed into Antilene''s face, the sound of breaking nose bones caused a deafening crack as the little girl fell to the ground, miraculously staying awake.

    She got up, Antilene. The child was strong. Too strong for a child of that age, stronger than she should have been. Nazaire remembered her daughters, and how their every little step was an endless source of worry. Foolishly, she had believed that they were made of glass, and that every fall, every bit of damage would cause them to shatter into a thousand pieces.

    And every time Antilene collapsed to the ground, it proved to her how stupid those worries were. Still, her heart could not help but break, almost as if the impact of that violence had been inflicted on her, and not on the child.

    But Nazaire knew it was just nonsense. It was Antilene who would end up, inexorably, with her body full of wounds, and her bones shattered. What she repeated to herself, were only illusions to ease the guilt.

    ''You shall not meddle in the education of the elect. You will not be allowed to comment on Lady Faine''s choices.'' These had been the orders given. Orders that Nazaire had made her own and jealously guarded in a remote part of her soul. ''Gods can be cruel. They impose sacrifices as much on us as on those they bless with the blood. Be thankful for your good fortune, and be thankful it did not happen to you.''

    And she had been, Nazaire. She was grateful to the Gods, always. She had been grateful when her blood, like that of her brothers and sisters, had not awakened. She had been when it had been forced upon her to marry a man she had never known. She had been grateful when that same man she had forced herself to love had met his end, in a hole forgotten by the Gods. She had been when her children had left her alone, to serve. As she had done. As she would continue to do.

    She had always been that, Faine. Grateful. For she lived.

    "If she dies, I will always be able to resurrect her." The coldness of Faine''s remark never failed to leave her amazed. She kept repeating this, maybe more to herself than to Nazaire. Or, perhaps, it was addressed to neither. But only to that little girl who was so sad, and yet kept fighting.

    "What if she should refuse resurrection?" Nazaire had dared to ask once.

    Faine''s eyes had closed, in contemplation. "Then that will have been her fate."

    "Again," Faine said to the girl.

    It was shocking how that little girl always managed to keep fighting despite her injuries and fatigue. Not that it made any difference: her every blow was easily neutralized and her mother''s retaliations became more and more violent with each exchange.

    ''Today Lady Faine is just using her fists and no weapons, despite wielding a lance. Maybe she is in a good mood.''

    The very concept of strength was wasted on Faine. Nazaire had never seen her fight. Fight for real. But she had heard stories. Stories of how the dragon lords could do nothing but bow before her; how the masters of death knew fear for the first time, once they crossed her scythe; how the spawn of the underworld rebelled against their masters in awe of the sacred blade coming down upon them.

    Lightbringer. Blessed by The Fire. The storm that never stops.

    Those were just some of the appellations by which Faine''s person was referred to.

    ''Surshana reborn.'' Just thinking that name sent a chill down Nazaire''s spine.

    "Again." Faine repeated with the same calm intonation of voice.

    Being able to take her shots showed how exceptional her daughter was too.

    What kind of monster would Antilene become in the future, once given time to blossom?

    ''No. Not a monster. Not a monster.''

    Nazaire cursed herself.

    Antilene had made a final, desperate attack on her mother''s leg. The mace moved so quickly that Nazaire did not even notice the movement; but even that attempt failed, for where Antilene was swift, Faine was lightning fast.

    A kick to the older woman was enough to send the girl flying a few meters, and bring her to the ground once more. The toe of Faine''s shoe had hit just under Antilene''s chin, and the little girl''s blood began to flow profusely from another spot.

    God''s blood. Blood so similar to Nazaire''s.

    Faine reached out and grabbed her by the hair. Nothing more than a vulgar rubbish bag. "If I cut these off, would it make any difference?" Faine''s hand had moved closer to her daughter''s ears, reaching up to grip the tip. A tip so sharp. Proof of Antilene''s heritage.

    ''Half-blooded. But never... never say that word.'' Nazaire repeated to herself. ''Human. Antilene is human. She has been blessed with the blood. Only humans can be blessed with the blood. She has been chosen. Great are the Gods, in their wisdom!''

    For a moment, Nazaire wondered if Faine would tear up what she considered an unforgivable affront. Little Antilene gasped for breath, her puny little body twitching with fatigue and pain.

    If Faine had acted, how should Nazaire have acted? Ears could be reattached, with magic. It would have been painful, yes. Very painful.

    But every hard lesson required a great price to be understood.

    ''Be strong, little Antilene. This is also a test.'' Nazaire begged that the little one could hear her, and could find comfort. But how could she, if the words would not leave her mouth?

    Be strong, she insisted. She had to be strong. Who had to be? Nazaire closed her eyes, to avoid having to look. What a coward. She asked for forgiveness. To the Gods, to Antilene, to herself.

    And then¡­

    "That''s enough!" Exclaimed Faine after throwing Antilene to the ground, once more. "From tomorrow onward, I will be on a mission, and I expect to see some results when I return."

    She turned to Nazaire, who felt herself dying on the spot. "Do you have anything to add?" Faine asked her, politely.

    "No, my lady," Nazaire tried to appear as brave as possible. "I will pray that yours will be a journey free of danger." When would it ever be? "And with me... your daughter will also light a candle for your safety."

    Faine smiled. It was a strangely sincere smile. "I know you will." Then shifted her attention back to her daughter. The smile remained on her face for an imperceptible time, and for a moment it would have been possible to think there it would have remained, until her gaze stopped on the little girl''s pointed ears. Those damn ears. "As for my daughter¡­"

    The expression had become impassive, almost as if it had never known any emotions. A stone mask. Was that the face of the God of Death, concealed by the statue''s veil? Nazaire dared not imagine it.

    "...Don''t let her disappoint me."

    And with these words, Faine left without even adding a parting word to her daughter.

    Nazaire sighed, accustomed to the scene, and began with her work.

    She took the child on her shoulders and walked to one of the rooms that served as her apartment. Candles at the ends of the corridors blew warmth, enclosing the darkness in a yellow with slivers of orange. The light never left those places, lest that realm of darkness forget Alah Alaf''s gentle, comforting touch.

    The apartment was not very big, and the first time she saw it, Nazaire marveled at how spartan it was: a bed, a poorly stocked kitchen, a shelf that was periodically filled with provisions and potions, and a small table to eat was all that adorned the room.

    It was a servant''s room, not a God''s. Nazaire could not help but notice the irony whenever she crossed that threshold.

    Antilene''s everyday clothes consisted only of a tailored suit of armor and a woolen shirt, dark trousers and a pair of shoes. Adjacent to the main hall, a bathroom had been set up for her personal needs.

    These days, the room had taken on a livelier aspect thanks to the gifts Nazaire had given her over the years: there was no longer a single ensemble but enough clothes to fill a small closet she had given Antilene for her birthday.

    She had also managed to get hold of some disused toys that had become the most precious treasures for the little half-elf. In particular, a soldier with long hair showed more signs of use than the others.

    "Hungry," Antilene whispered in a huff. Nazaire stroked her head as she laid her down on the bed.

    ''Another scar,'' the woman noted. ''Right above the forehead. Where did I leave the scrolls?''

    Nazaire stepped away for a moment, to return soon after with a roll of manticore skin and a few bottles inside which a greenish liquid floated.

    The roll was unrolled, and a red glow struck the girl. Antilene''s skin began to regenerate, returning to a natural state. Then Nazaire smeared a little of the potion she had taken with her, first on her arms and legs, then on the rest of her body. The clothes the girl was wearing were in a pitiful state, so she found it more efficient to tear them off in no uncertain terms.

    ''She''s warm.''

    Antilene''s skin was a transparent white, almost angelic. But every time Nazaire touched her she was amazed at how much warmth that little girl made of pure, soft snow emitted. Antilene was burning. She was burning with life.

    After treating her wounds, giving her new clothes, and making sure there was nothing else to do, the older woman began to prepare dinner while the child took the opportunity to rest.

    Nazaire began to place the contents of the bag she was carrying on the table. Potatoes, veal and a vast assortment of vegetables, carrots and onions above all. Soon, a scent of stew overcame the closed smell that hovered in the small chamber.

    Antilene got up just in time for when the preparations were finished.

    ''I swear this little girl has an internal clock that warns her when there is food nearby.''

    Were the Gods not above hunger? But Antilene was not a God, after all.

    Whenever they dined together, the youngest asked all the questions she could put together about the outside world. An overwhelming curiosity, there was no other way to describe it. But how could anyone have condemned her for that?

    "Tell me, Nazaire, is the story of the battle of Fort Quarto true?" Her voice was melodious, and incredibly soft. "Did Goddess Lagusa really burnt alive ten thousand demihumans who had dared to try to devour her followers?" She asked, with her mouth still half filled with the stew they were eating. The child already showed an extraordinary intuition for the art of war. Table manners, on the other hand, required more extensive training. "That would have been... so cool!" Her eyes had lit up with a flame that could have rivaled that of the myth.

    "And how do you know that? It was not in the material we studied this week. Nor in any of the past ones. I am old, but my memory is still good." Among her duties, Nazaire also had that of providing for her education. The little girl had a natural inclination for studies of the past and religious doctrine. On the other hand, mathematics and astronomy could have used some refinement.

    Not that it was important.

    Nazaire knew the story Antilene was citing, one of the most famous and gory concerning the Goddess of fire, but she believed that the girl was still too young to learn about it.

    "It was in the book that Uncle Cassius gave me the last time he came to see me. It''s called Six Great Stories about the Six Great Gods!" Antilene exclaimed with eyes full of enthusiasm. She loved stories about the great heroes and figures of the past, especially those involving the patron deities of the Theocracy.

    ''It''s only natural to want to know more about your own family,'' Nazaire admitted to herself. ''Because she is a child of the gods. The blood flows, in that little body.''

    "Now I understand." Responded Nazaire, moved by the child''s curiosity. "Well, if our illustrious Cardinal thought it appropriate to give you this gift, who am I to contradict him?"

    In fact, the caregiver wished her superior had not shown -something more unique than rare- such initiative. But it was not up to her to syndicate the choices of the nation''s representatives.

    Of grievances, she would have had far too many.

    "Let''s see¡­" Nazaire touched her temples, availing herself of another spoonful of stew to prompt her memory. "The first men had built a small fortress after escaping from the bondage of King Belfagost, a monstrous lion-man with a mouth as big as this room." In reality, the mouth had probably been smaller, or eating for that non-human would have been highly inconvenient.

    "Yes," nodded Antilene. "Such a big mouth," the small hands had spread, in what must have been an imitation of the size of the organ.

    "The king had ten thousand soldiers, ten times the number of slaves," Nazaire continued. "And the first men, they were not armed, nor did they have means with which to defend themselves. They had only faith as a shield.."

    "And that is when the Goddess came!" Antilene had leapt onto the table, fencing with an invisible sword against the image of the horde in her mind. Fortunately, not a drop had remained on the plate, or its contents would have spilled onto the little girl''s clean trousers.

    "Good manners," Nazaire reminded her. "A lady always knows how to behave."

    "Sorry," the little girl had quickly returned to her seat, her face downcast.

    "Apologies are accepted," Nazaire smiled at her, ruffling her hair. This put Antilene back in a good mood. "In you flows the fire of the Goddess. My task is to teach you to tame it."

    "The same fire that burns the enemies of humanity! The same fire that put an end to King Belfagost and his tormentors!"

    "Yes," the story was not yet over. "The prayers of the first men were heard, and Goddess Lagusa rushed to their aid. Such was her fury, that the non-humans burned for days on end, in a perpetual state between life and death, until the Goddess deemed that they had served all their sins. Only desert remained at the end. And for years, nothing more grew in those lands, until Goddess Egarda decided to bless them with her tears. Fire and Water, two sides of the same coin. Like Wind and Earth. Like Light and Darkness."

    "Those monsters must have been screaming for days," exclaimed Antilene. And, at that moment, Faine''s face could be seen in her daughter. Along with something else, something much more dreadful. "I bet it was a beautiful sound! A symphony, like the ones they perform in the theater."

    ''The screams of demi-humans, like ours, are not a symphony.'' But this, Nazaire, avoided saying. What she did say, however, was: "Since that day, many pilgrims have been traveling to that place, to pay their respects and gratitude."

    "Eheh, that''s incredible." Antilene exclaimed in wonder, her eyes shining full of admiration. But it took only a moment, however, for her expression to darken. "Do you think one day I will be able to see it too? Maybe the three of us could go together. Me, you and mom."

    "Of course, I don''t see why not." Nazaire lied. Who knew it, maybe one day she would be able to convince the cardinals to let Antilene out into the outside world.

    A reward, for such a courageous child, was mandatory.

    ''But I strongly doubt that Lady Faine would join us.''

    Another thing she did not say. Silences were more than words, in that place.

    "In the book, there was also another story that I liked a lot," the half-elf resumed, distracting Nazaire from her thoughts. "It spoke of Egarda, the Goddess of water, and of the love she felt for her children. There were no great battles, no frightening monsters. Only the ways she spent time with her sons and daughters: the games they played, the food she prepared for them. They must have been very happy!"

    The caregiver immediately understood where the half-elf was going. Egarda and the immense love she felt for her offspring had become a point of reference for all the mothers of the nation. All but one.

    "I know that mom has a lot to do, but why does she never find a moment for me? Is it because I am weak and I cause her shame? Am I such a failure?" A shadow fell over Antilene''s expression. A shadow that never seemed to leave the child. "Or is it because I look like him?" Antilene had started touching her ears, which she always meticulously hid under her hair. Even when it was only her and Nazaire. Only when she was alone.

    ''Oh, sweetie. If only I could tell you. But would you understand? Can a daughter understand her mother''s pain?''

    Nazaire had heard that question countless times and, may the Gods forgive her, had never told the truth.

    It did not matter how much Antilene''s father was present in his daughter''s gaze. It did not matter how marked the resemblance between the two was. It did not matter, because Antilene was Antilene. And the Elf King was the Elf King.

    Lady Faine saw ghosts where Nazaire saw only a helpless, sweet child. Ghosts, yes. Ghosts and shadows, yes. In that smile... in that smile that sometimes made her blood run cold.

    "I''m sure it''s not true; it''s just that your mother is a very important and busy woman. The whole nation stands on her shoulders, it pains her a lot not being able to spend more time with you." Nazaire comforted Antilene, trying to convince herself rather than the girl. "Lady Faine is tough, but only because she loves you so much. She truly loves you so much." She repeated, for emphasis. Maybe then she would be able to fool them both.

    What she had said was the truth, after all. She just omitted some pieces of reality.

    "If you say so, I believe, you auntie!"

    Auntie, Nazaire didn''t deserve that nickname, but what else could she do?

    ''How I hate my weakness.''

    It was she, whom Lady Faine should have punished. Nazaire''s body was old, useless. It could be battered by the wounds of training, it could be subjected to the tortures of the flesh. Nothing to waste.

    But to what end?

    "Rather, since tomorrow it will be just you and me, why don''t we cook something special? You could help me prepare those omelets you like so much."

    And to help, Nazaire just intended for her to be a spectator.

    ''The child''s hands will only have to hold a weapon. The hilt of the swords will be her best friend and the point of the spear her playmate. Her mind shall be honed in the art of war, and her education shall focus on the charity of faith, and the cruelty of battle.''

    These had been the sacred instructions of the Cardinals. Nazaire''s life had been one of service. And so, that time, like all the others, she had decided to serve.

    Maybe they could have sung a song. The ballad of the elusive wind, the fire of the defeated hero, or the rain of the grieving mother. Yes, a good song always made things better.

    Always.

    "Really? Can we use those aromatic spices you used last time? Can we? They tasted sooo good!" A grin of satisfaction appeared on Antilene''s face. Many would have called that diabolic grin off-putting, but for Nazaire nothing was more adorable.

    "Ahaha, of course we can! But, in truth, I wanted to try a different recipe that was recommended to me by a friend of mine. Let''s make a deal: if you promise to go to sleep early and to study all morning tomorrow, we will use both recipes. Double portion of omelets!"

    "Hurray, cheer! I promise I will be the most obedient child in the world. Thanks, aunt Nazaire!" Antilene said, hugging her gently. The warmth of her little body so close to the old woman.

    After they finished dinner, the two cleared the table, quickly rearranged the kitchen, and played together until it was time to go to sleep.

    As promised, the half-elf went to bed immediately, exhausted from the day.

    After making sure she was in the world of dreams, Nazaire turned off the lights and went to rest in the room she had been assigned.

    ''Sleep well, Antilene. May your dreams be rich in joy and happiness.''

 Chap 2: Talent

    CHAPTER 2: TALENT

    Lower Fire Month, 27th Day, 19.30

    "[Crystal lance]" Keno unleashed her spell, precisely targeting one of the archangel flames surrounding her and her group.

    A crystalline projectile departed from the enchantress''s hand, hitting one of the approaching angels squarely in the face. On impact, a small explosion spread through the surroundings, while a roar ripped through the sky. Nothing was left of the victim except a pile of feathers that gently dropped to the ground.

    Unfortunately, the number of enemies was still substantial, and showed no sign of decreasing.

    Taken individually, they were no great danger to her, but the amount present was a nuisance. In addition, Sunlight Scripture spellcasters kept casting magic after magic, wearing her and her group down faster and faster. They hadn''t suffered any losses yet, but if things continued at this rate, the situation would soon change.

    Ok, let''s try to reverse the situation. An idea took shape in her mind.

    "Logem, maneuver number 7! I entrust the others to you!"

    "Got it," replied the elf at her side.

    After activating the martial art [Greater Ability Boost],Logem fired 3 arrows imbued with electric magic in quick succession, knocking down as many members of the opposing forces as possible.

    Breaking the enemy circle allowed the elf and the others party members to start moving away from the battlefield, to hide in the forest a few meters from the area where the battle was taking place.

    "Oh, so the brotherhood stories your group preaches are just that. Fantasies. They left you alone, little girl." Scoffed at her a man with an arrogant grin on his face.

    An angel different from the others with a long cloak was holding a club at his side. He wore the same uniform as the other men, but while his companions wore masks that concealed their features, his face was uncovered. Not a smart choice, Keno thought, as it made it clear that he was a more important person than others.

    "They just realized that to beat some lightweight like you I''m more than enough," Keno said, hoping the man would take the bait.

    "Hehe, don''t worry! As soon as we''re done with you, me and my men will pay your friends a visit too. I''m sure they holed up in the same place where you hid that garbage." He then turned to his subordinates. "Let''s finish this story quickly, I don''t want to be late with filling out the report."

    At his signal, the remaining angels rushed Keno, which began to hover in the air thanks to the magic [Fly]. She struggled to dodge the slashes and spells that were thrown at her as she made her way to her target.

    The flaming sword of one of the archangel flames grazed her side, almost piercing her flesh. In a flash, a small fireball departed from one of the little enchantress'' hands, destroying it.

    Taking advantage of that brief moment when she lost her charge, some magic arrows hit her in the back, causing her to lose momentum.

    "[Translocation Damage]," activating her magic, she managed to contain the damage and return to charge toward her target.

    "You think you can get rid of me easily, right? Principality Observation, eliminate her!" The angel at the captain''s side charged a mighty blow with his weapon.

    "[Crystal Wall]." A crystal shield stood between the attack and the hooded sorcerer.

    The enemy angel slammed hard against the defensive wall, reducing it to a thousand shining pieces, but the backlash of the impact caused him to lose his balance for a few seconds, making it possible for Keno to go around it and get closer to its target.

    Here we go, let''s hope it works!

    Without losing a moment, the vampire activated one of her tricks up her sleeve "[Sand Field]".

    Particles of sand scattered across the battlefield. All of her opponents were immediately immobilized and blinded, as the forces slowly began to abandon them.

    Not only the spellcasters but also the archangel flame found themselves still in midair, unable to continue the fight.

    "Damn, what have you done?" Shouted the captain of the Sunlight Scripture.

    "Just a little magic of my invention." She said as a smile was forming behind her mask. "Don''t worry, I don''t have enough mana left to kill you all. I hope your soul will reach the afterlife in peace knowing it."

    A crystal spear appeared in midair, piercing the body of the man. His corpse fell to the ground without life. Keno took advantage of the confusion among the remaining enemies to lift the man and retreat to the nearby forest, to reach her companions.

    After a few minutes, the effects of the magic began to wear off. The agents of the Theocracy slowly recovered their sight and the only thing they saw was the bloodstain of their leader on the ground.

    Upper Earth Month, 7th Day, 22.30

    Cassius Severinus Rampogne was deeply annoyed. The situation was already so frustrating, and the woman did nothing to make things easier for him.

    "So, Faine, don''t you want to tell me how things went?"

    "You have read the reports, I have nothing else to say," she responded, without even giving him a look.

    That doesn''t make it any easier for me.

    "You know I''m trying to help you, right? Why don''t you confide in me, in memory of what happened between us?"

    These last words shook the woman, her gaze began to fall on him. "There has never been anything between us! Maybe in another life, but in this one we have never been anything more than companions."

    Cassius looked into her deep black eyes; they were as beautiful as the day he had first seen them.

    They had aged, both of them. It seemed a lifetime since he was an underling of hers in the Black Scripture. The young hero ready to do anything to defend humanity was by now a shriveled old man, and the woman he had fallen in love with had died many, many years ago.

    "Your position has already been in the balance for quite some time. This time I will not be able to stop the other Cardinals from taking action."

    "I will accept without discussing any decision the Council decides to take. I put my future back in the hands of the Gods." Faine paused for a moment. Cassius noticed that speaking seemed to be difficult for her, as each syllable was uttered with difficulty. "Now go! I wouldn''t want you to be late for your meeting."

    "I hope you don''t regret your choice." Having nothing more to say, he left Faine alone and headed for the meeting room.

    Maybe in another life, huh. He said to himself. Who knows, if things had gone differently maybe we could have been happy together. In a world without the Elven King, in a world without her.

    Memories of when he and the rest of the Black Scriptures had rescued Faine began to appear quickly before his eyes. He had seen that woman perform, still very young, extraordinary feats: defeating an adult dragon lord, easily overpowering a squadron of trolls, and humiliating the men and women who had entered the realm of heroes.

    Always ready to defend the weakest, compassionate like no other, more than once she had argued against the Cardinals of the time because she had left some demi-human children alive. In retrospect, she was a big hothead, had a cutting tongue like few others, insisted on drinking with her companions even if she could not handle alcohol at all, and was not capable of bluffing when we played cards. I miss her.

    But everything had changed since she was rescued from the capital of the elves. The air of camaraderie that had been established in the Black Scriptures had disappeared; no more meetings outside the missions, no more discussions about hopes and fears among the members. Only the mission existed. And Faine had never been the same again.

    He couldn''t help but wonder if avoiding childbirth at the time could change that. Abortion was usually an indifferent practice in the eyes of the Theocracy administration, but things changed dramatically when an out-of-the-ordinary person like a hero was involved, let alone a Godkin.

    The magic used to perform the operation belonged to the third tier and was safe enough for the first weeks of pregnancy, while the risk of losing both the woman and the baby rose the closer you got to the moment of birth.

    The Cardinals of the time had forbidden the termination of pregnancy to safeguard her safety, but Cassius was very unconvinced that the use of magic could be a danger to the life of a person as strong as Faine. In truth, he was pretty sure that the decision had been dictated more by curiosity to see what kind of child would be born from the union of a descendant of the Gods and that monster.

    It was not a choice that he felt he could condemn. The cards given to humanity compared to other races were few and it was not unusual to try to do everything to close the gap.

    Judging by the strength of the child, it had been a correct choice. Cassius had seen her fight a few times and, from the training he had witnessed, she was already at the level of a member of the Black Scripture.

    Although it was my duty to provide for her, I left most of her education in Nazaire''s hands. How can I call myself a Cardinal?

    The truth was, he didn''t know how to behave with the little girl. Cassius was aware that it wasn''t her fault that her mother was in that sorry state, but part of him couldn''t see her without feeling some anger. She was a lively little girl, especially considering everything she was going through, but the Cardinal always felt uncomfortable talking to her.

    It seemed silly to think about it, but she frightened him. It was not her superhuman strength or impressive skills the problem, but the intense way she looked at him, as if she were reading his soul.

    And her smile. It wasn''t the innocent smile he''d seen on countless children''s faces. It was a devilish smile, resembling a lake of blood. Just like her father''s.

    A shiver froze behind his back, the memory of the Elves King deeply ingrained in his soul.

    But now I have other duties to attend to.

    He entered the room where the Pontifex Maximus and the other Cardinals were waiting for him.

    "Well, now that Cassius has arrived, we can begin." Callisto Holden Elesio, Pontifex Maximus of the Theocracy, officially declared that the meeting had begun.

    "I would like to start with the bad news," he started. His old voice was full of vitality, like that of a man in his prime. "Clement, would you mind informing others of what you told me in your report?" He concluded, addressing the younger man in the room.

    Clement Bolvi Toga was the Cardinal of Light and former captain of the Sunlight Scripture. He had assumed his position at a young age, only forty-four, and Cassius was firmly convinced that he was the most eligible individual to become the next Pontifex.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "As you know, the Sunlight Scriptures were sent near the forest of Tob where our spies warned us a large goblin community was growing. Unfortunately, during the mission, they came across a demihumans sympathizer group. There weren''t many casualties but Captain Ceraste was captured and probably killed. The cleanup also failed. Some of the enemies managed to save most of the goblins before the fight began."

    "Are we talking about the same group that has interfered with our operations in recent years?" asked Adriano Monsid Dorkas, Cardinal of the wind. Short black hair framed an emotionless and stern face.

    "Everything suggests that. It seems that a masked sorcerer and an elf with a scar on his eye were present, as in the previous testimonies we have collected."

    A tall and incredibly thin woman, Joan Lafel Storgesel, Cardinal of Darkness, spoke up. "I can''t help but think that the Argland Council State is behind the actions of these adventurers. All the targets they saved have probably found asylum in that country."

    "What Joan says may be true. That nation has presented itself on the international level as our clear antithesis. Their actual military power is still unclear to us, but it is not unthinkable that they are gathering capable individuals for a future conflict with us."

    If the Slaine Theocracy preached the superiority of the human race above all else, the Argland Council State, on the other hand, was strongly convinced of the possibility of coexistence among all races.

    Cassius initially thought it was a stupid dream, without foundation in reality. But now that he felt Surshana''s touch approaching, he was beginning to feel that realizing their design for a world without conflict wouldn''t be too bad.

    "Nonetheless," the Pontifex Maximus resumed, "we absolutely cannot afford a conflict with a nation of unknown strength, especially now that our relations with the Kingdom of the Elves worsen day by day and the other human kingdoms still pay the losses suffered during the invasion of the Evil Gods. I remind you all that in less than forty years another "wave" could occur. We cannot be caught unprepared! I propose to try to keep relations with the Republic of Argland as cordial as possible."

    "Let me take care of it." Leviticus Zachary Valente, Cardinal of Fire, replied. He was a short, plump man with shoulder-length gray hair. "I will personally take care of selecting the best delegates for this diplomatic mission. It will also be a good opportunity to study their military force."

    "Excellent, if there are no objections, we''ll leave the job to you."

    All those present gave a nod of agreement.

    "As for the Sunlight Scripture, why don''t we promote the vice-captain and reinforce them with some of the most capable apprentices? As the next mission, we could send them to reinforce the Roble Holy Kingdom. We have received a request for help to patrol their borders from the most dangerous tribes of the Abelion Hills." Proposed Cassius.

    "It seems like a good idea. If I''m not mistaken, we had already sent some of our paladins as reinforcements in the past. Strengthening the bonds we have with them will bring many benefits in the long run." Rohelio Dogen Gelasius, Cardinal of Water, agreed with him. No sign of dissent came from the others.

    "Cassius, since you have taken the floor, I would say that the time has also come to address that question." Callisto urged him.

    Well, I knew it had to happen.

    "As you know, we sent the Black Scriptures to assassinate that warlord Centaur who was threatening the alliance of city-states." Started the Cardinal of Earth, trying to appear as aloof as possible.

    "Did the mission fail? Were there any victims?" Leviticus asked in a worried voice.

    "No, in fact, it was a complete success," Cassius reassured the man. "Years will pass until the different races of demihumans that inhabit the plains near the Karsanas City-State Alliance will be able to ally again."

    "So, what is the problem?"

    "Well, during the return mission, on the edge of the Baharut Empire, they accidentally came across a couple of elves. A mother and son who were probably trying to emigrate to safer areas."

    "I don''t see what''s strange about it. Every day tens of elves try to leave that disastrous kingdom."

    The Elf King ruled his kingdom with absolute power. In the past, it used to be said that in his nation revolutions were born in the morning to die in the evening but now its citizens had completely lost the desire to rebel. Many tried their luck by abandoning their homes and seeking their fortune elsewhere, but few were able to reach salvation in neighboring nations.

    "In this case, the boy had heterochromia."

    The other Cardinals immediately understood what it meant.

    "And how did Faine take it?" Adriano asked.

    "When the others managed to detach her from the boy there wasn''t much left. The mother slit her throat in pain. As soon as Loster saw the scene, he puked his guts as well. Fortunately, the situation occurred in the evening, and there were no witnesses."

    "Loster - the demihumans butcher - Ugolino vomited?" Joan asked in shock.

    "Yeah, he seems to have been having trouble chewing on solid foods since he got back."

    "It is not the first time that Faine has been carried away by her personal feelings. In the future, she could endanger the other members of her team." It was Leviticus who spoke, slightly shaken by the brutality of the story.

    "She''s a certain age now, isn''t she? Don''t you think it''s time to have her retire and have another of the two Godkins take her place as Captain?" Clement asked, his mind already projected on the future.

    "Yes, I think it''s time for her to take a well-deserved break." The Pontiff Maximus agreed.

    "And what do we want to do with her daughter? I don''t think continuing to leave her in the mother''s hands is a prudent choice. Now that I think about it, the other day I met that nurse of hers who begged me to make training less exhausting as the baby''s safety was in peril. I thought she was exaggerating, but I see that her fears were well-founded."

    "I agree with Rohelio. We cannot afford to lose what could prove to be a valuable future resource!"

    Cassius knew there was only one thing to do. "We just have to forbid Faine access to her daughter. I think it''s time for him to dedicate himself to her training. While we''re at it, we might as well relocate her to a better area of the Cathedral. I don''t know how much living amid underground tunnels can be good for growth."

    "If there are no objections, I would proceed with Cassius''s proposal."

    No one dared to speak.

    "I declare the session closed and may the Gods bless our actions!"

    Middle Earth Month, 1st Day, 8.00

    The morning light came timidly through the window of Antilene''s room. The girl felt a sweet warmth touch her face as she slowly opened her eyes, ready to start a new day.

    She looked around, still bewildered by the size of her new home. It had only been a few weeks since she had moved to that apartment located near the top of the Cathedral, and still had to get used to all the new comforts she had.

    As soon as she got up, there was a slow knock on her door. Before she even had the time to reply, two young women hastily entered the room; one opened the window near her bed and began to sweep and clean the dust accumulated during the night, while the other inspected the large closet near the door and chose the clothes that she considered most suitable for the day. After having finished, one of them took Antilene to the bathroom adjacent to her room to wash and dress her.

    The little girl still felt uncomfortable in her new situation. Before, she took care of the daily chores alone, or with Nazaire''s help. Now, on the other hand, she had a whole select team of waitresses who tended every little detail of her life. At first, she felt thrilled to be surrounded by so many people, but that feeling soon vanished.

    Every time she tried to talk to them, they just always answered with the same phrases repeated over and over again like: "Yes, my lady", "I''ll see to it right away, my lady", "it would be inconvenient if I talked to you, my lady." She didn''t care about being a great lady, she just wanted someone to talk to.

    Fortunately, Nazaire was still with her; she found the plump lady, like every morning, in the kitchen preparing something to eat, helped by three other attendants.

    "Oh, you woke up! Have a seat at the table, a long day awaits you!"

    The table was already set, full of food and drink. There was an embarrassment of choice between sweets, fruit juices, jams, jars of honey, and great varieties of vegetables.

    "I''m not very hungry. I think I''ll skip breakfast."

    "Nonsense, eat a slice of this blueberry pie I made this morning at least. Today is a special day! You need to feed yourself."

    "Okay, okay Auntie! But why is today a special day?" She couldn''t think of anything worth celebrating for.

    "Hehe, while you were sleeping Cardinal Cassius passed by to give me splendid news. It seems that later you will finally meet your new combat master."

    "New master? And mum?"

    "Oh, she''s very busy right now. Don''t worry about her."

    The half elf girl felt deeply guilty. She hadn''t thought of her mother for days and now she would have abandoned her for another teacher.

    After all the efforts she had made for her, after all the time she had spent trying to make her strong, was that how Antilene thanked her? Faine didn''t deserve a daughter like her.

    "Can we at least go see her? I wouldn''t want her to feel alone."

    "You think about giving your best today. I will try to organize a meeting for the next few days."

    "Um, ok." She answered with a not-too-convincing smile.

    As soon as she finished the slice of cake and drank orange juice, a guard entered the room and warned her that he would escort her to the place where the new teacher was waiting for her.

    As they headed to their destination, she tried to eliminate the silence by using those ice-breaking phrases Nazaire had taught her.

    "May I ask your name?"

    "I''m Roland, my lady!"

    "Oh, that''s a good name! I''m Antilene! What do you do in your life, Roland?"

    "I am part of the national body of defense, my lady!"

    "Um sure, sure. And do you like your job?"

    "I am proud to serve the Gods, my lady!"

    It hadn''t gone very well and she no longer knew what to ask for. Fortunately, the embarrassment only lasted a few more minutes. Roland took her to a large door, explaining that from that point on, only she was allowed to continue.

    "Then I shall take my leave. Farewell." The man walked away, without giving her a second glance.

    The half-elf timidly knocked on the door waiting for an answer. It opened wide and, after a few moments, a deep voice invited her inside.

    "Do not be afraid. You are safe here, in the treasury of the Gods!"

    It was truly a marvelous place; equipment of the highest quality was carefully arranged on ledges of worked marble. Her experience with weapons was limited to those she used in training, but she quickly realized that she was not in front of everyday objects.

    A series of unusual things was scattered throughout the room: some were in the form of toys or objects of everyday life but whose quality was much higher than those she was used to; others were books the contents of which tickled the child''s imagination, in the end there were some items of a strange shape, that she wasn''t able to recognize.

    In the center stood the figure who had let her in. He was wearing a long black tonic adorned with thin gold stripes. A hood was raised over his head and a scarlet mask from which only two white eyes could be seen was covering his face. A pair of gray gloves concealed his hands intent on carefully cleaning a big, black scythe.

    Antilene walked over silently, looking for something clever to say. But nothing occurred to her.

    "Don''t be shy, I won''t hurt you. Tell me your name!"

    "Antilene Heran Fouche, my lord!" She exclaimed with all the courage she had in her little body.

    "Oh, that''s a really beautiful name. I am Rufus. Nice to meet you." The voice was gentle and caring, resembling that of Nazaire. "You know, this is the first time that I have dealt with a young lady like you. Usually the people who come in here have more¡­ experience."

    "I-I''m sorry. I promise you I won''t cause any problems."

    "Ahahahahah, you have nothing to apologize for. I was just reflecting on the fact that even after living for so many years, new experiences can always happen. Here," he said, handing her the scythe he was cleaning, "this was your mother''s weapon. Why don''t you try it?"

    The girl hesitated for a moment before taking up the weapon. It was not very heavy, but its size made it uncomfortable to handle for a small person like her.

    Suddenly a strange feeling hit her, a series of images appeared in her mind as if someone was showing them straight into her brain. A skeletal figure activated a strange magic against an unknown opponent, a giant golden clock appeared behind him, and after a few seconds, he stood alone in a lifeless wasteland.

    "Certain death," she murmured in a low voice.

    "Oh, I see you''ve noticed the eight tier [Death] magic contained within it, but it''s not the only ability it has. We will have time to get to know them all."

    "Nono, I think it was something different. I saw a skeleton fight some dark figure and a golden watch appeared behind him. And after a few seconds, poof, there was nothing left but the one who had cast the magic."

    Rufus looked at her without saying anything, his eyes widening in amazement. [The Goal of All life is death]? How is that possible? He thought, still shocked by what he had heard.

    "Tell me, how did you know about that ability?"

    "I-I don''t know. I touched the scythe and those images materialized in my mind. I don''t know how I did it. I swear!"

    Could it be a talent? But how does it work? Does it only allow you to see the trump cards of past owners or even use them? Does it apply to all skills of the weapon user or only to some? Are there any requirements to be met? And what are the limits? A lot of questions began to cross his mind, diverting his attention from the girl who began to observe him with a bit of fear.

    "Is everything alright? I didn''t do something wrong, did I?"

    Rufus gently placed his hands on her shoulder, his voice assuming a fatherly tone.

    "Wrong? My dear, if what I think is true you have been blessed. I''ve never seen someone with your potential."

    His words filled Antilene with pride. Blessed? Her? She was special then; she wasn''t a failure! She would become the best in all of the Theocracy. She would kill her father. Mother would be proud of her. She would finally hug her and say that she loved her. Yes, things would have turned out for the best!

    Middle Earth Month, 1st Day, 20.30

    Sitting at the kitchen table, Antilene could not shake her excitement. It had been one of the best days of her life: Rufus had explained a lot of interesting things to her about the 6 Great Gods and their abilities, as well as sharing a lot of interesting stories and anecdotes about them. How did he know them?

    When she had asked him, he refused to answer her. Everything about that man was a mystery. He had also made her promises not to mention his existence with anyone. Antilene would have liked to share everything she had discovered today with Nazaire, but she absolutely did not intend to break the promise she had made with her new teacher.

    "So, it looks like you had a wonderful day. If you don''t stop moving in that chair you will fall to the ground like a little wingless wyvern." The caregiver warned her softly.

    "Hehe, you don''t have to worry because you have the future defender of humanity before you!"

    "And where does so much arrogance come from? Did something good happen during training?"

    "It''s a secret. I can''t reveal it. For the good of the nation!" Said the girl with heterochromia proudly.

    "I would never allow myself to jeopardize the security of the country. Well then, I would say that my little heroine deserves the best dinner in the world." The gentle lady handed her the plate she was preparing, containing a juicy slice of pork and sweet potatoes.

    Antilene was about to start eating when there was a knock on the door, a guard came in with a troubled face and took Nazaire aside. The child couldn''t hear what they were saying, but noticed that her housekeeper''s face took on a ghostly hue. After the man left, the older woman approached her.

    "Antilene, dear, there is an important thing I have to tell you."

    "What happened?"

    "Antilene, dear, it''s about your mother."

    "Mom? What happened? Did they hurt her during a mission?"

    "Antilene, your mother is dead!"

 Chap 3: Promise

    CHAPTER 3: Promise

    The shadow of a large tree shielded her skin from the sun while a gentle breeze blew, keeping the heat of the day away; the screeching of insects timidly tried to disturb that serenity; a woman much older than her snored softly, hugging her tenderly.

    She slowly opened her eyes, trying to avoid making any noise that might wake the woman as she tried to pull away from her grasp.

    Rising to her feet, she began to savor the fresh air that touched her face and to observe the great expanse of flowers and plants that presented itself to her sight. Before today, she had only a vague idea of their appearance from the books she had studied but now that she could see and touch them, she realized how evident the difference between what she had imagined and reality was.

    Her first outdoor experience, outside that oppressive Cathedral, turned out to be better than she had imagined. There was so much to discover and learn out there, the world was full of wonders to admire and experiences to try. She would go to great lengths to broaden her horizons and become a strong, wise, and compassionate person like the 6 Great Gods.

    "I see you''ve already got up." The other woman yawned loudly as she stood on her legs and approached her.

    "I wasn''t very sleepy. Sorry if I woke you up."

    "No, it''s you who must excuse me. We finally got out of that place as I promised you and fatigue took over. I know how much you cared about this day! "

    "Nono, that''s okay. Finally, my dream came true, thanks, mom!" She beamed back.

    Yeah. Her and her mom out, enjoying a day together. No other concern but the two of them. That was how it was supposed to be!

    "I got a little hungry. Why don''t we eat some of those pastries Nazaire made for us? I know you''re crazy about it." The woman''s friendly face filled her heart with warmth. As long as she could be with her, nothing would disturb her soul. No enemies too difficult to face, no difficulties too great to overcome. She didn''t want treasure or celebrity; she just wanted her to stay by her side forever. It wasn''t a selfish thing to ask, was it?

    "Yess, yes. I will devour a whole quintal of it!" Just the thought made her mouth water; thinking about it would have been the first time she ate with her. The thought made her immensely happy.

    "Hehe, I hope you will leave some to me too. Wait here while I go to get them." Her mother approached the tree where they were resting until a few moments before to pick up a basket carefully placed on the ground. She took one of the sweets that were inside and handed it to her daughter.

    She tried to take it to eat it but as soon as she had it in her hands, it slipped through her fingers and fell ruinously among the leaves of the lawn.

    "I-I''m sorry. I did not want to." A strong fear took hold of her. Why? Why was she afraid? There was nothing to fear. She looked up to see her mother''s reaction. To her relief, she continued to look at her with a calm expression on her face.

    "These are mistakes that happen. Here, take another one."

    She tried to grab a second one but it too fell to the ground like the first.

    The older woman''s expression remained unchanged as she continued to take delights from the basket to offer them to her. But each time the scene repeated itself.

    She grabbed a pastry but, as soon as she thought he had it firmly in her fingers, it slipped out of her grasp.

    "Hehe, you are really careless!"

    "It doesn''t matter, there are many others."

    "Come on, I''m sure you can do it."

    After five unsuccessful attempts, her frustration was at its limit. Antilene didn''t wait for another to be offered but pointed directly to the basket. She quickly snatched it from her mother''s hands but did not have time to feel satisfied with her undertaking, which comically slid to the ground, spilling all the contents to the ground. She felt tears begin to fall from her eyes. Why could she never do anything right?

    "I cannot believe it. No matter how hard I try, you continue to disappoint me." Her mother''s eyes now looked at her with the usual coldness that distinguished them; the smile gone from her face, replaced by an irritated expression.

    "Why do you force me to do this? Why do you want me to hurt you?"

    A kick hit her in the abdomen while she was still lying on the ground. Antilene felt her breath fail as saliva filled her mouth. She tried to get up but was thrown hard to the ground.

    She had to get up. She had to fight.

    "I train you every day to make you strong so that nobody takes advantage of your weakness! And what was it for? You continue to writhe in pain after just a few small strokes. Why don''t you want me to be proud of you?"

    The blows continued to get more violent as she slowly felt her strength abandon her. The green expanse was gone, replaced by the usual arena in which they trained.

    She wanted to scream and ask for help, but she knew no one would come. No one had ever done that.

    She just wished it would end, that she could finally rest in peace. She asked for nothing more.

    At one point the pain began to stop and something wet touched her cheeks. Tears.

    "Please, forgive me. Please Antilene, forgive me!" Her mother hugged her tightly as her face continued to sob. "Don''t let me vanish into darkness, please! I feel so alone!"

    Antilene. She had never called her by her name before. She knew it then. How wonderful.

    "You have to make him pay for what he did to me. For what he did to us. Promise me you''ll make him suffer. Promise me!" Screamed the woman with the most breath in her throat.

    She had such a sad face. Was it she who made her feel that way? If she disappeared, would she stop suffering so much?

    "I promise you." She could barely say as her eyes closed with fatigue.

    The darkness engulfed her and soon her sensations began to abandon her, only the emptiness remained.

    Middle Earth Month, 2nd day, 6.00

    A dream. It was just a dream. Yeah, how could it have been otherwise?

    Antilene awoke reluctantly from the bed. The day hadn''t started in the best way and she knew it wasn''t going to get any better.

    Her wish would come true today, she would finally go out into the open air.

    But it''s not what I imagined it would be. She thought with a note of melancholy.

    No maid would come that day to help her get dressed and washed, at her express request. She didn''t want to hear strangers clumsily trying to cheer her up.

    A long black dress had been placed in the wardrobe together with a hat, also black, to hide her ears as much as possible. She usually kept them hidden with her hair but evidently, the Cardinals had found it necessary to take a few more precautions.

    Maybe I should just take a blade and cut the tips. It would save me a lot of time in the future. But isn''t it possible that they will grow back later?

    The half-elf immediately dismissed that foolish thought and began to prepare.

    If she could, Antilene would have completely skipped that day; she had never been to a funeral and the expectation did not appeal to her even a little.

    Waiting for her in the kitchen was only Nazaire, also dressed completely in dark, intent on preparing something to eat. She had made her favorite pancakes, but for the first time in her life, Antilene didn''t feel happy at all at the prospect of eating them.

    The silence around reminded the half-elf of the time when it was just the two of them; it hadn''t been long since they ate in solitude underground, but it still seemed to go back to a previous life.

    "Here, eat calmly. There is no rush." Two large dark circles accompanied the face of her nurse. The little girl remembered that the night before her caregiver had been watching over her until she fell asleep. She had probably spent most of the night by her bed without sleep.

    "What would my life be like without Aunt Nazaire?" She didn''t dare to try to imagine it and began to eat slowly.

    As soon as they finished having breakfast, the two headed towards the streets of the capital, hand in hand.

    The ceremony would be held in a small private chapel located inside one of the numerous churches in the capital of the Theocracy.

    The morning sun had not risen yet, but the streets were already full of life: merchants opening their shops, guards patrolling, students chatting among themselves as they reached their classrooms.

    That crowd sent Antilene into enormous confusion, she squeezed her nurse''s hand even tighter while with the free one she was constantly making sure that her hat didn''t slip off her head.

    She observed with as much attention as possible everything around her trying to store in her head as many images as she could. She knew it would be a long time before another chance to visit the external world would present itself.

    The shop signs, the colors of the clothes, the cleanliness of the streets, every little trifle was valuable information for her.

    The noise that surrounded her was deafening, the half-elf was not at all used to all those people talking to each other, running from one direction to another, trying to attract the attention of possible new customers in their stores. A severe migraine began to throb in her head and suddenly the idea of cutting her ears no longer seemed so bad.

    Fortunately, their destination was not so far away and as soon as they reached the church, a dignified silence replaced the deafening din typical of the city tram-tram.

    There were not many people: Antilene only recognized Cassius among those present. He was sitting next to a small group of his peers all dressed like him on one of the benches in the chapel.

    As soon as she entered the room all eyes turned to her; she felt deeply uncomfortable, not used to all that attention, but tried not to notice it as she headed for her place.

    As she sat down, she began to hear some murmurs from the guests behind her.

    "I heard they found her hanged in her home."

    "Nono. She had been sick for a long time; it seems that in the end, she couldn''t stand the disease anymore."

    "You are both right, she was seriously ill and decided to kill herself first so as not to suffer."

    The Cardinals did not reveal to her how her mother had died the night before, only mentioning "serious complications" that had ended her life. She didn''t care much.

    Her mother was gone and the rest didn''t matter to her.

    Antilene noticed the absence of one person in particular. Rufus, she wondered, why didn''t he come? Wasn''t he mother''s teacher? She would ask him when she saw him again in the afternoon.

    It had been difficult but she had convinced Nazaire not to blow off her training. She didn''t feel like going through the day doing nothing.

    And they had to find out how her talent worked.

    The priest in charge of the funeral service arrived a few minutes later with Surshana''s psalms book in his hand.

    Sermons in the Theocracy usually lasted no more than thirty minutes. The rest of the ceremony was dedicated to the moments of sharing that the loved ones of the deceased intended to do in front of the guests.

    Cassius spoke on behalf of all the Cardinals, engaging in a long speech in which he described all the good that Faine had done for the nation, her qualities and defects, and some amusing anecdotes about their youth.

    After him, some of her ex-comrades began to tell the occasions in which she had saved their lives, some of the most exceptional battles they had seen her win, of the adventures they had experienced together.

    Antilene noted that no one mentioned her, not even indirectly. If a stranger had attended, he would never have thought that Faine had a daughter. She tried to find a story about her and her mother to share, but, strangely, she couldn''t think of anything.

    Finally, when everyone had finished speaking, the final moment arrived: the coffin in the center of the room was opened so that those present could give her the final greeting.

    She seemed so peaceful lying there as if all worries had abandoned her. Maybe death wasn''t that bad.

    Common sense dictated that when a daughter saw her mother''s lifeless body she would begin to cry, but her face remained unchanged as she looked at the woman''s corpse.

    There must have been something wrong with her if she could not be moved by the passing of the one who had brought her into the world. But no matter how hard she tried, her face kept the same apathetic expression.

    If only she had had a good memory with her to carry in her heart, perhaps her mind would have felt more at ease.

    Am I such a shameful daughter? Why can''t I cry? Why don''t I feel anything?

    As she hated herself, a silly idea began to take shape in her mind. Something that only a child could think of. Something stupid and meaningless, but that for Antilene was the only anchor of salvation.

    I don''t feel pain not because I didn''t care about her. But because I became strong not only in body, but also in spirit. Yeah¡­ It must be for this.

    The thought of having finally achieved her mother''s goal lifted her mood. Maybe she wasn''t a complete failure, after all.

    Look at me from up there, mom! You will be proud of me!

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    "Antilene." Whispered her auntie in her ear. The voice was slightly worried. "Why did you start smiling like this? They are all looking at you."

    She noticed some embarrassed looks turned toward her, she didn''t understand what she had done wrong but lowered her head and gaze as much as possible to avoid being scolded again.

    As they were about to leave, one of the men she had initially seen near Cassius approached her.

    He looked more youthful than his other companions and the symbol of Alah Alaf, the God of life, was embroidered on his clothes.

    "You must be little Antilene, right? I''m sorry for what happened to your mother. I didn''t know her too well but I''m sure she loved you a lot. Alah Alaf will take care of her soul."

    His words were probably meant to cheer her up, but the little girl found them empty and devoid of affection. A mechanical, almost inhuman gesture.

    "Who are you?"

    "I am Clement, one of the six Cardinals." The man introduced himself. "If there''s anything I can do for you, just tell me."

    The half-elf didn''t need to think about it for a second, she already knew what she wanted.

    "You have to kill him." Was her blunt retort.

    The older man was momentarily shocked by that statement so atypical for a girl of her age.

    "Kill who, child?"

    "My father. The king of the elves."

    "Killing the king of the elves would mean starting a war with all his people. And war is not something that you start with a light heart." Clement tried to explain, agitation present in his voice. "Although relations with the elves in recent times have cracked, they have been our allies for many years."

    "It doesn''t matter. If you will not kill him, I''ll take care of it myself as soon as I finish my training."

    The Cardinal wondered how it was possible that a little girl who barely reached his legs began to make him so uncomfortable.

    Rufus had told him and his colleagues that with her talent she had the potential to become the greatest power the Nation had ever seen since the time of the 6 Great Gods. Could that be causing him that unpleasant feeling? Or was it that grin a little while ago that upset him so much?

    "There is no need to be in a hurry. You are a very precious resource for the Theocracy, you will not lack time to take revenge. I promise you that I will do everything possible to satisfy your wish as soon as possible!"

    "All right. Now, with permission, it''s time for me to go home." She made a small bow and walked away with her nurse, leaving Clement still stunned in the middle of the room.

    Middle Earth Month, 2nd day, 16.00

    Antilene found her teacher in the treasury playing a sad melody on a strange wooden instrument, the shape of which vaguely reminded her of the number eight.

    He noticed her but continued undaunted with his exhibition, gently rubbing the strings with an elastic wooden stick.

    In her life, she rarely had the opportunity to listen to music other than the religious one that sometimes resounded in the Cathedral, yet she immediately realized that this was an extraordinary performance.

    The sounds alternated with strength and delicacy, creating a symphony that addressed the listener''s soul. It was as if the notes had taken shape and started putting on a private show just for her. Was it the work of some magic acting on her senses? Or was it all about the skill of her teacher?

    The half-elf only knew that she did not want it to end, for the first time since the beginning of the day she felt relaxed and in harmony with herself. She remained silent to watch the play with eyes full of admiration.

    When he finished, she gave him small applause to which the masked man replied with a sumptuous bow. If she could have seen behind his mask, she would also have noticed a slightly embarrassed smile.

    "I''m sorry I kept you waiting. I have the habit of taking this old friend back in hand every time a student of mine leaves this world." A note of sadness was present in his voice, unusual for his compound behavior.

    "Nono, it was beautiful! Um, I''d love to hear you play again one of these days. I''ve never seen that instrument, what''s its name?"

    "This? It''s a violin, a legacy of the 6 Great Gods." Rufus observed the music device with a look full of nostalgia "It was the favorite instrument of someone very dear to me who is no longer here. One day I hope to be able to play it as well as him."

    "Uh, I''m sure you''ll be able to do it very soon!" She tried to cheer him up awkwardly, but raising the spirits of others was not her specialty.

    "Why didn''t you come to attend Mom''s funeral today?" She postponed the talk on a subject she had been wondering about for many hours, anxious to receive an answer.

    "Behind this," he said, pointing to his mask, "there are features that could create chaos if revealed to the population. This is why I rarely leave this room and limit my interactions with others as much as possible. "

    "Can I see?" She asked with a pleading look, full of curiosity.

    "One day, when you are older and when I feel the right time has come."

    "Uff. All right." She replied with a slight snort. "Listen, Rufus, you have known my mother for a long time, haven''t you? What kind of person do you think she was?"

    "She was a very sweet woman once. Then, after the tragedy she suffered, she was never the same again. In recent years it had been getting worse and worse as if an invisible evil devoured her soul. I was her teacher, maybe I should have done more to help her. Another regret that I will have to carry with me."

    "Do you think if I hadn''t been here she would have been happier?" The voice of the half-elf remained the same as if that were the most natural thing in the world to ask for a child.

    Rufus found himself startled by that sudden question and quickly mulled over what was the most sensitive answer to give her. He admitted to himself that he was not very familiar with handling that type of problem.

    "No, I''m sure of that. Listen to me carefully, the pain your mother felt was not your fault. You don''t have to blame yourself, promise me?"

    "Promised." She was not entirely convinced by his words but did not want to make her teacher apprehensive.

    "Why don''t we start with the training? It''s time to try to see if I can perform that fantastic secret technique from the other time!" The girl assumed an air full of determination, ready to begin her practice. She needed to release the tension built up during the day and clear her mind from unhappy thoughts.

    "Yeah, it seems like a good idea to me. Let''s go."

    The two left the treasure room to head to the training chamber. It was very similar to the arena that Antilene used to train with her mother, only larger and better provided with fighting equipment and healing potions. The Black Scripture members used that place both to hone their skills and to experiment with new combinations of techniques that could be used on missions.

    Rufus, to test her talent, used the power of Surshana''s scythe, Charon''s Guidance, to summon a Spartiate, a middle-tier undead covered in good-quality armor and armed with a long spear. For most of the men who entered the realm of heroes, the undead would have proved to be a tough enemy, but the half-elf dodged his blows with extreme ease.

    Antilene was equipped only with light armor of modest quality, similar to that worn by the recruits of the Theocracy, and a blunt training sword. Rufus had imposed these handicaps on her to make the match more balanced but they had proved useless. The difference was too great and after a couple of effortlessly hits, the undead was already gone.

    "Master, master. See how good I was? " Antilene puffed out her chest, filled with pride at having passed the test so easily. It was the first time she had fought with someone other than her mother and she didn''t expect it to be that easy.

    Compared to the lightning-fast and unpredictable attacks she was used to, her opponents seemed to move in slow motion; even the power of the blows was mediocre: even if she was hit, she doubted that she would suffer any significant damage. But Rufus had explained to her, before starting the meeting, that that undead was comparable to a member of the Black Scripture.

    And she had defeated him with minimal effort. Was the difference between her and other humans so great?

    "Incredible. It seems an opponent like this is too little for your level. Your skills are superior to what I expected. Before proceeding further I''d say it''s time to check if you can really use [The Goal of All Life is Death]."

    He summoned a second Spartiate thanks to Charon''s Guidance and gave him the order to remain motionless. Then he passed the scythe to his pupil. "The other time you said that it was as if the weapon was talking to you, try to use the secret technique of Surshana in tandem with the magic [Death]."

    Antilene prayed with all her strength to be able to activate that secret weapon. With the scythe tightly in her hands, she concentrated on bringing up that strange clock she had seen in her mind.

    She succeeded on the first attempt: a yellow round shape materialized behind her and after only twelve seconds the Spartiate in front fell to the ground, lifeless.

    "So, this is the power of the gods!" It hadn''t been as difficult as she expected: she had instinctively used it, almost as if she had already done it dozens of times in the past.

    Rufus was left for a moment bewildered, incredulous that what he had witnessed was true. He then began congratulating her in an unusually enthusiastic tone of voice for him, listing numerous ways to take full advantage of her talent, plans for the future, and new experiments to conduct to see how far her skill could go.

    The half-elf was stunned by that river of countless words of which most of which she could not grasp the meaning of but was happy to have made her teacher so proud.

    "Incredible, Incredible. Nobody will be able to beat you now. Meeting you will mean certain death for anyone. Yes, it seems suitable as a title. Certain death. Zesshi Zetsumei!"

    Maybe that day hadn''t been so bad after all.

    Upper Water Month, 13th day, 17.00

    Keno felt out of place.

    Due to her particular condition, she had remained with the same physical appearance as when she was twelve, a slender and childish body enclosed Landfall; one of the most infamous vampires in the world and a member of a legendary group of heroes.

    Although few people could boast of her experience and skill, her small height and childlike features had always made it difficult to get the right respect. Over the years she had managed to overcome the feeling of always feeling uncomfortable, surrounded by people taller than her.

    Or at least that was when she was dealing with races that didn''t outweigh her much, like elves or humans. Her interlocutor this time, however, did not fit that description.

    The Argland Council State was a newly born nation, not even one hundred years old. Like many of its other neighbors, it had replaced one of the kingdoms destroyed following the invasion of the Evil Deities, but differed in the innovative government structure desired by the main architect of its creation: Tsaindorcus Vaision, Platinum Dragon Lord.

    Given the great diversity of different species that inhabited Argland, a parliamentary administration system had been established in which political decisions were taken by mutual agreement between the various representatives chosen by the population itself, thanks to a vote that took place every 5 years.

    Any citizen could run as a representative of his race once he reached what each species had considered the minimum age to be elected: for example, humans had set the minimum at 35, trolls at 50, elves at 300, and so on.

    Only one race of them enjoyed special privileges: the dragons numbered five, not one, in total representatives who had a permanent presence in the parliamentary body: Platinum Dragon Lord, Blue-Sky Dragon Lord, Diamond Dragon Lord, Obsidian Dragon, and Wyrm Dragon.

    It was with one of these five dragons that Keno was about to meet: Suveria Myronsilk, the Blue-Sky Dragon Lord. In front of his imposing figure, the girl felt like a mouse in front of a basilisk, waiting to be crushed with a single movement of the paw without having the possibility of escape.

    She knew, however, that it was just a silly, unfounded suggestion. Suveria had a composed and authoritative character, devoid of malice and a sense of superiority. In fact, he was particularly humble for his kind. It was no wonder that he was a great friend and confidant of Tsaindorcus and, after the latter''s disappearance, one of the staunchest supporters of the design he had begun.

    Two knights covered in thick armor stood guard in front of the large hall where the dragon was waiting for them. They were part of the elite body of the Argland Council State: the dragon knights. A squadron of twenty of their men was comparable to a team of adamantium-grade adventurers and the champion of the order was said to be comparable to a dragon in flesh and blood, although Keno was not entirely convinced of that.

    Suveria welcomed her with a warm tone, similar to that of a grandfather who sees his granddaughter again after a long time.

    "Oh Keno, or should I call you Evileye now? Please have a seat!" Compared to his fellows who loved collecting treasures of all kinds, the Blue-Sky Dragon Lord had more particular interests: the room was adorned with numerous plants, all of different species, which Suveria took care of personally. His body was covered in dull blue flakes and gave off a pleasant scent, similar to that of a well-tended garden.

    "Keno will do just fine, Your Excellency." She lowered her head slightly as a sign of respect as she sat in an armchair a few meters from the dragon.

    "Didn''t that elf come with you? If I recall correctly, he was called Logem. He is an interesting type, even if perhaps a little too serious."

    "No, your Excellency. We separated before reaching the capital. He was supposed to meet with some of his subordinates who didn''t follow us on the mission but asked me to send his regards to you. "

    Suveria seemed slightly disappointed by the news but didn''t give it much weight.

    "Speaking of your mission, I learned a couple of weeks ago from representative Gorkil that the goblins you rescued are now safely in his custody, waiting to find accommodation for them. On the other hand, I have received many complaints from other colleagues about your group''s habit of continuing to collect refugees in what should only be reconnaissance missions to investigate the movements of the Theocracy. "

    The little vampire knew those improvised rescues were frowned upon by some of the members of the Council, but she could not help but react when she was faced with helpless people in the face of danger.

    They were Riku''s ideals and she wanted to at least try to respect them. Keno did not hate the men of the Theocracy for their "cleansing" operations, rather she recognized that they were understandable from their point of view.

    Yet she wanted to believe that another way was possible. Who knows, maybe one day she might have avoided wearing that mask all the time and hiding; bloodsuckers like her were frowned upon by most sentient species.

    "I''m sorry I wreaked havoc on the council but at least we managed to deal a heavy blow to the Sunlight Scripture by killing their captain. Too bad he decided to refuse the resurrection or we could have tried to get valuable information from him."

    "There shouldn''t be many problems this time around. But I beg you and your group to be more discreet next time. If the Cardinals were to learn of Tsa''s disappearance, unpleasant implications could arise."

    Only the dragons on the Council and the old members of the thirteen heroes still alive were aware of the disappearance of the Platinum Dragon Lord - seven people in all. The news had not yet leaked, also thanks to Tsa''s old habit of being locked up for most of the time in the flying fortress of Eryuentiu, now well guarded by Rigrit. But the upper echelons of the Theocracy wouldn''t take long to sniff out the bluff.

    "We will try to avoid unnecessary battles, even if I can''t promise you anything. But tell me, is the news rumored in the city about the arrival of a delegation from the Theocracy true?" Keno had spent the last three days in an inn not far from the city center before being received by Suveria and had overheard various worried discussions on the subject.

    The dragon watched her with his large green eyes as he slowly scratched his throat, then ventured into a weary sigh.

    "I''m afraid it''s true. Officially the motivation for the visit is the beginning of the establishment of peaceful dialogue and the stipulation of diplomatic agreements between nations for the achievement of a stable and lasting peace. But I would be ready to put my foot on the fire that these beautiful words conceal much fewer noble motives. On the other hand, refusing such honest intentions would have led to the growth of the distrust that other human nations already have towards us."

    "I imagine you have already devised measures to prevent sensitive news from being leaked."

    "In last week''s session, it was decided that it would be up to the human representative Tinkel to take care of their living room with clear instructions on what he could show them. We hope that the large presence of demihumans pushes them to move more cautiously than usual, not that I and the others expect this to be enough, but it should at least slow down their movements. Meanwhile, Tinkel also received the task of preparing an embassy to be sent to the Theocracy. They are not the only ones who know how this game works."

    Keno was not able to calm down completely but decided to have faith in the competence of the Argland ruling class, she was just a sorceress who did nothing but fights and study magic and had not developed an acute political attitude.

    Although I should try to make up for this lack of mine; now that I am the leader of the new group, I have to be able to do more than just fight. Maybe Logem should have taken command. She thought.

    From the original group, there were now only her, Logem, and Rigrit. The latter, however, tended to limit her travel as much as possible, effectively leaving her and Logem alone at the helm of the recruits they had gathered over the years.

    But the elf in recent times tended to be more and more distant, focused on achieving the goal for which he originally joined the 13 heroes: to find someone strong enough to kill his father. The old leader seemed like the right person but he was dead before Logem could realize his ambition. According to what he had told her, even the dragons currently sitting in the council had no hope of beating him.

    "I hope things go well. Now, tell me, why did you summon me?"

    Suveria drew the attention of one of the two guards present at the entrance by raising his voice slightly.

    "Pordsky, could you kindly go and get those documents that are in the third room of the corridor on the right?"

    The knight made a sign to indicate that he had received the order and headed for another wing of the building that housed them. He returned after a few minutes with a bag containing some papers.

    "We suspect that the Theocracy is preparing a war against the kingdom of the elves. Their relations have deteriorated for many years and there have been some skirmishes on the border. We would like you and your group to investigate the situation and provide us with a detailed report. The bag contains some maps to help you navigate the immense forests of Evasha that cover the kingdom of the elves. Pay particular attention to some beasts that seem to be particularly dangerous."

    "Received. I will arrange to form a suitable team for the assignment. I will try to send you news as soon as possible."

    "I''m sure you won''t disappoint me. I hope we will meet again soon, next time I will offer you and your companions some tea. I''m growing new plants from the Minotaur''s kingdom; they say the blend they produce is delicious!" The dragon had a good-natured smile on his face, a sign of the genuineness of his statement.

    "I can''t wait to taste it. Now I offer you my regards, Lord Suveria!"

    Keno took her leave with a bow and headed for the exit of the building while she was already starting to think about how to organize the preparations for the mission.

 Chap 4: Birthday gift

    CAP 4: BIRTHDAY GIFT

    Middle Wind Month, 15th day, 7.00

    He did not recognize where he was.

    A great migraine rumbled in his head, his body ached so much that he struggled to make the slightest effort, his vision was still clouded with pain and it took him a few seconds to focus on the images that were placed in front of his eyes.

    He was lying on a bed carved in wood on a particularly comfortable mattress, different from the low-quality and hard stone he was used to. The room he was in was bare: only a small drawer positioned next to him and a bookcase full of jumbled paperwork gave a little color inside.

    As soon as he became fully conscious of himself, he noticed the bandages that enveloped his chest, and his last memories began to become clearer.

    "I remember that arrow that hit me and then nothing more. What happened after? Where am I? And Rey? Is she fine? I have to look for her."

    He tried to get up but the pain was still too great. Trying to fully lift the upper part of his body he found himself back attached to the bed, out of breath.

    "Come on, come on. I cannot stand still without doing anything. I have to find Rey."

    Appealing to all his inner energy, he strived to use a martial art to at least try to get out of bed. He managed to set foot on the floor but his determination had to collide with the harsh reality: he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes with no more energy to move.

    He was about to scream for help when a man walked through the door holding a bowl that gave off a tempting scent.

    "You shouldn''t move in your conditions. It is already a miracle that you are still alive!"

    Noticing his face, he realized that his benefactor was an elf like him, probably of a similar age to his. White hair gathered in a pigtail framed a face with a single red eye busy scrutinizing him as if he could discover every hidden detail with just a glance.

    But his most obvious feature was the long scar that started from the center of his forehead and reached a few centimeters from the right side of the lip, passing through the missing eye socket.

    The stranger placed the meal he had brought him in the small drawer and helped him get back on the bed with extreme ease.

    "I can''t stay here. I have to find Rey!" He didn''t even thank him, too worried to even remember his manners.

    "If Rey is the little girl who was with you, you don''t have to worry. Unlike you, she wasn''t hurt and now she is resting in the next room."

    A great feeling of relief dispelled all the anxiety that had accumulated in the past seconds. Only the shame of not even thanking that mysterious elf remained.

    "Sorry, you''ve done so much for us and I haven''t even thanked you. I have no words to describe my gratitude. If I can do something to repay my debt, all you have to do is ask."

    "It does not matter. Now eat or you will faint again, but from hunger this time."

    He began to eat what had been prepared for him by the mysterious stranger: a leg of chicken browned in a hot broth of a mixture of vegetables. He hadn''t bitten into something so good in weeks and after having finished, he felt his strength slowly begin to return.

    "I''m Fredem anyway. Pleased to meet you!"

    "Sorry, but I''d rather avoid revealing my name to strangers."

    "Even more mysterious." Fredem thought. In other circumstances, he would have been irritated by his interlocutor''s terse replies, but the thankfulness for the rescue outweighed any other emotion he would normally have felt.

    "Could you tell me what happened? I remember we were waiting for the smuggler I made contact with; but in his place I found an ambush by the soldiers of the Theocracy."

    Since the war between the elven kingdom and the Slane Theocracy started, escaping the country had become even more difficult: some individuals had begun to exploit people''s desperation by offering themselves as guides to traverse the forest and reach a safe nation like the Baharut Empire; behind a hefty fee, of course.

    Fredem did not have great faith in their work but, with the war turning more and more against them, his options had been reduced to the bone.

    "Most of those smugglers, as you call them, are in the pay of the Theocracy. They procure easy prey that can be resold in slave markets. I guess you spotted the trap and tried to get to safety, but one of the pursuers nearly punctured your lung with an arrow. Frankly, it is a miracle that you are still alive. If I hadn''t passed nearby, you would now be dead and the girl would have ended up being a maid for some rich merchant, if not worse."

    "And the pursuers? What happened to them? Isn''t there a possibility that they are still looking for us?" The fear of ending up on display as an animal in the theocracy markets began to take over; if he had been alone, he would have preferred to cut his throat rather than be captured.

    But he had a duty to do: protect his daughter at any cost.

    "You have nothing to fear. In the conditions in which they find themselves they will hardly be able to do anything."

    Fredem was amazed by the implications of that statement. The Theocracy had one of the most dangerous armies in the world: every single man received training aimed at the full exploitation of his potential, the command line was free of any form of nepotism and the internal organization was a perfect mechanism of efficiency without defects; probably their soldiers were in better condition than some of the wealthiest elves in the capital.

    The comparison with the disorganized and lacking in leadership troops of the elves was merciless; were it not for the natural defenses that surrounded their kingdom and for the methodical and slow pace with which they were advancing, Fredem was certain that the Slaine soldiers would already have reached the point of besieging the capital.

    That the stranger had managed to get rid alone, judging by the absence of companions in the shelter, of one of their entire team showed how exceptional and different he was from the common villagers who made up a large part of their nation.

    "What will happen to my daughter and me now? I would like to believe that you helped us out of your good heart, but given the times that are happening, I find it hard to imagine that it is so simple."

    The other stared at him with that single red eye of his for a few seconds, then made a remark that Fredem knew would come soon.

    "So that little girl is your daughter. I guess she took the eye color from her mother. Or am I wrong?"

    Fredem''s eyes were a banal black, like hundreds of other elves. But Ruri instead sported two different irises: one blue and one white. In most cases, this could only mean one thing.

    "Mock me if you want. I don''t care what people think. I raised her and her siblings as if they were my own children. It is I who first saw them walk, who taught them to read and talk, who read them bedtime stories. And I was the one who was close to them when their mother, my beloved Verte, decided to end it all. Before she swallowed that poison, I promised her I''d make sure they would be safe. And I failed, only Rey is left alive now."

    Thinking back to the last few years brought back feelings that he thought he had long ago repressed and that now needed to pull out: a mixture of pain and regret for not being able to save all of them.

    The king did not limit himself to scattering his seed with as many women as possible to generate a disproportionate number of heirs but also imposed on them deadly tests to develop their potential.

    Before the war began, he uncontrollably threw his offspring into the jaws of the beasts of the forest; this had given rise to unpleasant complications since, by increasing the amount of meat at their disposal, the most ferocious ones had begun to survive and reproduce much more easily than the others.

    In recent times, however, he had decided to use the soldiers of the theocracy as guinea pigs for his experiments; experiments which in most cases resulted in complete failure. Rey''s brothers had suffered the same fate, without him being able to do anything to prevent it. This prompted Fredem to bet everything and seek salvation in another land.

    "I understand." His savior did not give much weight to his words, as if he had heard a story similar to his so many times that he was completely desensitized." Tell me, what was your occupation before all of this?"

    "I was a captain of the guard at the royal palace, I served about two hundred years before leaving that place."

    "Oh, this is interesting!" For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, he showed a hint of emotion. He continued to run his finger slowly over the scar as if this helped him think.

    After a minute that seemed interminable, he spoke again: "Listen to me carefully, this is my proposal. I have some properties in the territory of the Argland Council State. I can find suitable accommodation for your daughter on one of my farms. She will have to work hard and will not live like a princess but will be fed, educated, and treated with all respect and care. But in return, you will become mine."

    "How do I know that what you are saying is true?"

    "You cannot. My word will have to suffice for you. Some of my men can use [Message] magic; as soon as the child is settled, I will make sure that you can contact her once to check the situation. However, if you prefer, you can try your luck on your own. I have heard that the king''s bastards have become luxury goods not only in the theocracy."

    Fredem sifted through his remaining options and realized that the chances of finding something better were really slim.

    "I understand. As long as Rey is safe, I will follow your orders without question."

    "Perfect. So how about starting now?" The elf with the scar approached the bookcase in the room and pulled out three packets of paper from inside which he handed to Fredem along with a strange golden pen that he pulled out of his pants.

    "On one of these packages, you will have to write any information you can think of about the king. Not only the skills you''ve seen him use but all the observations you''ve made over the years in his service: his habits, what irritates him and what makes him in a good mood, his tics, his way of speaking. You mustn''t overlook even the smallest detail.

    After you have finished, you will have to copy the exact content on the other two, word by word. When you have recovered, you will head 50 km west from here. I''ll give you a map to help you find the way. There you will find a hidden village in the wood; get in touch with a woman who calls herself Agravaine.

    You''ll deliver one of these packages to her, I will keep the other two, and will put yourself at her service: take orders from her as if they were mine. One last thing: the ink of this pen has been enchanted with a particular third-tier magic that makes it invisible sometime after it has been used on a piece of paper. Don''t worry: Agravaine knows the magic to make it visible again. Everything''s clear?"

    Fredem did his best to memorize the number of instructions he had received, still a little shaken by the awakening and the pain of the wound.

    "You want to kill him, right? You want to kill the king!"

    The number of times he''d seen someone try to assassinate the king over the years couldn''t be counted, but the result had always remained the same.

    "Let me clarify. I don''t just want to kill him. I want to see him on the ground pleading and desperate, as he screams in terror hoping someone will help him! Only then will I be satisfied."

    Although his face continued to remain calm, the scar began to throb as if it had a will of its own, independent from that of the man.

    "What makes you think you can do it? The king is invincible. Nobody can beat him."

    "Believe me when I tell you that in this world there are beings even scarier than him, and I will be able to find one of them. Even if it had to take a thousand years; even if I had to offer my soul to a demon; even if I had to get down on my knees to lick the feet of the Cardinals of the Theocracy; even if I have to sacrifice every man, woman, and child in this nation, I will eventually be able to achieve my goal."

    His hate was not that of an ordinary man, but more akin to that of an angry slave who, after years of mistreatment, decides to rebel against his master.

    "What will happen once you manage to take him out?"

    "I do not care. What happens after I kill him does not concern me. There is a concrete possibility that you all will become the dogs of the Theocracy, so I ask you one last time: are you ready to give me all of yourself? "

    There was no person in the world that the former captain hated more than his old king and nothing would have made him happier than seeing him lying on the ground bleeding like a pig, but he had to admit to himself that their ruler was the only hope they had of being able to win the war with the Theocracy.

    On one hand, the salvation of his people; on the other the possibility of avenging his Verte and ensuring a peaceful future for his daughter. He was amazed at how easy the choice was.

    "I''m with you. We are already the king''s slaves, it would only be a matter of changing masters. And then with his death, there is tiny, faint hope of mending relations with the humans of the Theocracy. After all, this mess started when that worm decided to satisfy his cravings with that human woman."

    His benefactor showed genuine curiosity at these last words.

    "It is not the first time that I have heard of rudeness done by the king to a very important person of the Theocracy but the information I have accumulated over the years has turned out to be fragmented and confused. But you were there when it happened, weren''t you? Please, tell me everything you know."

    Fredem clearly remembered the events that had led to the outbreak of that bloody war; the disgust of some of the scenes he had witnessed was still present in his mind as he had tried over the years to forget them.

    "It''s not a pleasant story. Let''s see, it all started about one hundred and forty years ago. At the time, I had just been promoted to captain of the palace guard.

    Every day I watched disgusting shows but I pushed myself to support my family. There weren''t many alternatives and, foolishly, I thought that working on the palace would lessen the chance of Verte being targeted by the king again.

    It was there that I met that woman for the first time. Faine, she was called. She was the bodyguard of a Cardinal who had come on a diplomatic visit. But I don''t think she was a normal person, she had to hold some important position within the Theocracy since the other members of the delegation sometimes seemed to respect her more than her superior.

    She was very kind; I guess she knew how to use some healing magic because many times I saw her dressing the wounds of some of the king''s concubines. Sometimes I exchanged a few words with her and she seemed genuinely interested in my family and my children, in particular; she even gave me some colored stones to give them as a gift from her saying that nothing made her happier than thinking of a child''s smiling face.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    And she was strong, strong like few others. While she was visiting, a hunt was organized which ended in an attack by a pack of hungry Ankyloursi. When the wild beasts attack us, usually the king takes care of them only when he wants to; many of my old companions could have been saved over the years if only he had been less careless.

    But that time there was no victim; Faine got rid of them with impressive speed without making any effort. I believe it was at that moment that our beloved ruler developed some interest in her. Sorry, could I have some water? My throat is dry."

    The elf, completely immersed in the story, left the room for a moment, returning with a small glass filled to the brim with water that he handed in his hands.

    "Please, continue" He said, after realizing that Fredem quenched his thirst.

    "Yup. Then, when the king decided that he would make her his, he decided not to take half measures. He quickly exterminated the other men who were in the delegation and tried to possess her but this time it was not as easy as for his other victims. Faine tried desperately to resist but was completely useless against the evocation of the king."

    "The Behemoth. I''ve heard of it; it seems to be invincible."

    "Yes, I don''t think there is anything stronger than that hideous being. Anyway, after the battle, he broke her arms and legs; and well, you can imagine what the king did. Her screams echoed throughout the building, some nights I can still hear them."

    Fredem was visibly shaken as he recalled those tragic events. His fingers trembled, in terror, as if he could hear those screams again.

    "She remained our prisoner for a few months; I brought her food sometimes and she was in a sorry state. We might as well have not tied her; it was as if her mind had taken refuge somewhere else to escape the pain. After a while, a special body of the Theocracy arrived to free her. I and all the other guards didn''t do much to stop them, quite the contrary. We were sure she was pregnant and we didn''t want to condemn that future baby to the same fate as his brothers and sisters."

    "Did you say she was pregnant?" His interlocutor exclaimed with a note of surprise. That news must have shocked him deeply since by now Fredem had concluded that he hardly let himself be carried away by his emotions for matters that didn''t regard the king.

    "Yes, in the last few weeks the signs of pregnancy were evident. I don''t think we were wrong. Even the king was convinced of it."

    The elf began to run his fingers over his scar again, only this time much faster, a vaguely familiar grin began to appear on his face.

    This could be the news I''ve been waiting for. He thought. Let''s see, if the fact happened one hundred and forty years ago, the child would hardly be a teenager now. Half-elves usually tend to inherit the longevity of pure blood. The mother was most likely one of those infamous Godkins.

    If the child inherited the powers of both parents, what might he be able to do? Accursed Cardinals, keeping such a weapon hidden! Calm down, calm down Logem, it might even turn out to be nothing. Maybe he was never born, or he died in childhood, or he didn''t show any particular gifts.

    I have to investigate. But where do I find a suitable human to infiltrate the upper echelons of the Theocracy? I need someone unattached, with the skills to climb up the steps of the Black Scripture, totally devoted to me. Eh, easier said than done, it will take me some time to find the right person.

    "Is everything fine? You haven''t said anything for a few minutes." Fredem asked worriedly.

    "Yup. Yes, I''m fine. I have to be honest, saving you turned out to be more useful than expected. Make sure you also write down this story you told me in those envelopes. Now rest a little, we have a lot of work to do!"

    I will have to act calmly and coolly. Who knows what kind of monster I might find myself in front of?

    Lower wind month, 4th day, 17.00

    Calm. I can''t afford to make mistakes or it will all go wrong. It takes maximum precision.

    Antilene had all the muscles of her body stiffened, the operation she was about to perform required concentration, a single mistake would have been fatal.

    After all this work, I can''t afford to make a mistake. Concentrate Antilene, concentrate!

    She had spent all morning and most of the afternoon trying to make the perfect cake for her birthday.

    After several not exactly brilliant attempts, she had managed to prepare a cream cake that vaguely resembled those found in all the patisseries of the Slane Theocracy; only the final touch was missing: to use the icing to form the word "Happy Birthday" on the surface of the cake.

    To do this she was using a new fashion tool recently introduced in the world of Theocracy''s cuisine: the body was formed by a sort of triangular-shaped bag whose tip ended in the decorative nozzle from which the icing came out. To have precise writing you had to apply the right pressure so as not to overflow too much icing and ruin the lines of the letters.

    In the end, the result was more than satisfactory and the half-elf admired her creation with satisfaction.

    "I doubt it''s as good as those Aunt Nazaire made, but I hope it''s at least edible." Since her old caregiver passed away, the quality of her diet had deteriorated considerably, the cooks who had succeeded had turned out to be almost all unsatisfactory for her tastes and it had been a couple of years that the half-elf had decided to provide for herself to the kitchen.

    At first, her ability with food was found to be very lacking but her obstinacy had led to a constant improvement and by now the stomach aches were almost completely gone.

    She took a knife from the cupboard and cut a small slice for a taste, to her surprise the flavor turned out to be better than she had imagined.

    "Maybe next time I should cook the dough a few seconds longer but the taste is not bad at all. I have to congratulate myself. Now, I have to find someone to share it with, I certainly can''t eat it all by myself."

    As she pondered with whom she could share her creation, there was a knock on the door. Opening it, she found herself in front of the body of a middle-aged man with a still muscular physique, gray, thick mustaches that would have attracted all the attention of anyone who observed his face.

    Ah, the cardinal of the earth. What was his name? Mezel? Mosel? If only they didn''t change so often.

    She tried to come up with the name of the man in front of her but she just got a lot of confusion, so she decided to shoot a name at random, hoping for the best outcome.

    "Ah Cardinal Morel, please take a seat."

    The man looked at her astonished for a few moments, as many in that place seemed to be assailed by terror every time he spoke to her. What a pity, the defenders of humanity who shivered like frightened chickens in front of a girl of just fourteen years old. In human years, that is.

    "It''s Merel, Lady Zesshi!"

    "Excuse me, you are new and I have not yet memorized your name."

    "In truth, I have been holding this position for two years now; but don''t worry, I just dropped by to bring you the report of the month."

    "Have you finally killed my father?"

    It had been many years now since the previous pontifex, that Clement she had met at her mother''s funeral, had started the war against the kingdom of the elves and the results were nowhere near satisfactory for her. Continuing at this rate, she would have to personally assassinate the king.

    "I''m afraid not. But you will notice, as you read those documents, that we have made important progress. It''s only a matter of time before your wish is granted!"

    "Okay, okay. I''ll calmly read them later. Now, are you sure you don''t want to go in? I made a cream cake which, I''m not saying this to brag, didn''t turn out bad at all!" She tried to persuade the Cardinal by showing her friendliest smile but the man, strangely, began to get agitated even more than before. Now even someone less observant would have noticed the shaking of his hands.

    "Nono, I would not like to take advantage of your hospitality. And I must necessarily reduce the sugars."

    Antilene doubted that a slice of cake would bring any problems to such a well-trained body but did not want to investigate further.

    "Ok, don''t worry. But can I ask you to tell any of the Black Scripture members in the cathedral if they feel like going up here to get a piece of cake? You know, I''d like some company."

    "Sure, sure. Although many of them are very busy at the moment. But I''ll make sure they at least get the news. Now, with permission, I have binding commitments that await me."

    After he left, the girl began to carefully study the documents that had been given to her. The war was always advancing in their favor but not much progress had been made in recent months, the situation remaining essentially unchanged.

    The information gathered on the surrounding kingdoms was instead more interesting: in recent years the Re-Estize Kingdom had begun to present an ever-greater increase in corruption and internal divisions that had undermined its stability; on the contrary, the Baharut Empire, although still not entirely devoid of struggles between the emperor and the nobility, seemed to be heading towards an opposite path to its neighbor.

    There were also summaries of the reconnaissance operations carried out by the Windflower Scripture such as the current struggle between Minotaur''s kingdom and the Demihumans'' Commonwealth; and the subdivision of the clans present on the Abelion Hills.

    The report concluded with the more detailed part, concerning the Argland Council State. Officially, a treaty of peace and cooperation had been officially signed between the two nations while both the citizens of the Theocracy and those of Argland continued to hate each other cordially.

    The respective embassies worked tirelessly to calm the mood and prevent the outbreak of a new conflict. But in the shadows, the special units of both states continued to operate undercover to expand their influence.

    The Theocracy Topside also had begun to suspect that Platinum Dragon Lord had abandoned the country completely and taken refuge permanently in the old capital of the Eight Greed Kings, given his total absence from politics. Still, it was only a remote possibility and they couldn''t afford to act recklessly and incur his wrath.

    In any case, there were many suspicious that their adversary had formed an information network even in the current kingdom of the elves and had compiled a list of those who were probably its undercover agents to be captured or, if there were no alternatives, to eliminate at any cost.

    Not that she had that chance in her current situation.

    By the time she finished memorizing that data, it was evening and no one had arrived yet.

    It seems they were too busy to waste time here. It''s my fault, I can''t expect them to spend time with me rather than think about their duties.

    The girl looked at the cake still completely intact on the kitchen table and thought it would be a shame to make it go bad. She took a roll from the archive of her room containing a tier zero magic suitable for storing food at low temperatures, not before having cut a slice that was carefully placed in a white box.

    Before the day is over, I should come by and offer him a slice. For sure I will find him in the treasury.

    Her intuition proved correct as the lights in the treasure room were still on.

    The masked man was bent over a small wooden desk, intent on writing something that seemed very important, judging by the attention he paid to it, on a thick tome bound in manticore skin. Despite being absorbed in his work, he immediately noticed her walking through the large door; over the years, Antilene had resigned herself to the possibility of taking her teacher by surprise to play a joke on him.

    "Oh Antilene, what did you come here for? I thought this was your monthly day off. Or was I so focused on my work that I didn''t notice the passage of time?" He asked her as he continued to stare at the pages filling them with ink.

    "No, I just came to bring you a little present. But don''t tell me you''re still writing about the life of that old Holocaust Scripture captain who died a few days ago."

    Whenever someone important within the Theocracy left this world, Rufus began writing an abridged biography of their life. His personal library now contained innumerable stories of the most important exploits not only of Cardinals and influential members of the Scriptures but also judges, economists, writers¡­ Almost five hundred and fifty years of history were enclosed there and the half-elf had read nearly all of them. Only the one dedicated to a certain person had she not yet browsed, postponing it to a date yet to be determined.

    "No, I finished that job. Now I''m dedicating myself to a magical researcher who died this morning: his work was instrumental in making scrolls containing fourth-tier magic."

    The achievement of that discovery had placed the Theocracy in clear advantage over the other surrounding nations since, at least according to their information, the latter still had problems producing rolls of the third tier.

    "Now, to what do I owe this particularly generous thought of yours? Is it some special occasion?"

    "Um, actually today would be my birthday. I thought about celebrating together if you like."

    Now that she said it aloud, she felt a little embarrassed; having disturbed her master for something so futile showed that, after all, she was still a child.

    "Oh, forgive me but it slipped my mind. Sometimes I seem to lose my conception of time in this place. Of course, I''d like to celebrate with you."

    He put his pen and book on a shelf on the desk and then took the box that her pupil held out to him; when he opened it, he was a little surprised to see its contents.

    "Oh, a piece of cake. Don''t tell me this is one of your usual tricks for seeing my face."

    The half-elf''s face took on a guilty expression, if it had been possible the word "busted" would have appeared on her forehead.

    Rufus had proved reluctant to take off his mask to reveal his features, even after countless attempts by the girl to reveal the secret, but he thought that perhaps it was the right time to put an end to that farce.

    "I suppose it''s time for you to know the truth, after all, you are the only one who hasn''t seen my face yet among the Black Scriptures. Consider it as a birthday present. But you must promise me to remain calm and to keep this secret until death!"

    "I promise you, master!"

    A strong excitement to finally be able to see the true appearance of her teacher began to take possession of her; it still did not seem true that she would finally be able to satisfy that desire to know that had been brewing for a long time.

    When the man took off his mask and lowered the hood of his robe, a putrid face peeped out; rotten skin, almost entirely absent, left most of the bones of a hairless skull exposed. The empty eye sockets glowed with blinding white; probably the mask he usually wore was built to give the illusion that he was equipped with a pair of pupils of the same color.

    "I knew it!" Antilene exclaimed. "You are Surshana, right? This explains many things."

    Undead had an instinctive hatred for the living and, although she thought it was not entirely impossible that there was someone out there who went against that trend, the clues she had accumulated over the years all led to a single conclusion: Rufus was Surshana. That was why he knew so much about his abilities and knew so many stories about the Gods.

    It also explained why all the upper echelons of the Theocracy who were aware of his existence showed so much respect for him and how he had lived for so long. And how he managed not to eat and sleep. There was honestly no other explanation.

    "I''m afraid your hopes must be broken. I am not Surshana but a direct creation of his. To make things easier for you to understand, you might think of me as a son, even if that''s not entirely correct. I am usually also appointed as his first disciple."

    The truth was not as surprising as she had expected but she was satisfied nonetheless; and then, even though he wasn''t quite Surshana, Rufus was still the closest thing to a god she''d ever seen. Being his favorite pupil was as if she were also the disciple of a divinity.

    "It does not matter. You are still extraordinary! The son of God! I am even more proud to be your student now! Although I guess this slice of cake was not the best gift."

    If his body could have blushed, Rufus would have had to look away in embarrassment. Fortunately, his condition had some advantages.

    "The goddess Egarda used to say that nothing was more important than a gift that came from the heart. So even if it is impossible for me to eat this royal of yours, know that I still appreciate it very much!"

    "You have known them. The six Great Gods, I mean. How were they?"

    The undead was seized with a strong nostalgia at the thought of his old masters; once again he blessed his condition, knowing that otherwise, he would have burst into a cry of tears.

    "They were perfect. Strong. Beautiful. Compassionate. Intelligent.

    Alah Alaf with his incredible sense of justice and love for the law, was responsible for the first written law code of the Theocracy, did you know?

    Imirduo with his overwhelming passion for art and the creation of new things. You already know that it is to him that we owe the architectural style used for the buildings of the Theocracy.

    Lagusa, so impetuous and passionate. She was a force of nature; as soon as she put something in her head there was no way to stop her. But she was so devoted to her people that she would gladly have given her life to save even the humblest of peasants.

    Egarda''s kindness and sweetness knew no bounds, I don''t think I''ve ever seen her without a word of comfort for those she loved.

    Nekole with his carefree character, nothing could disturb him. He was the soul of the group and always knew how to get everyone back in a good mood.

    And finally, Surshana; humans were afraid of him because of his appearance, but he didn''t care. I''m sure he didn''t even think twice about sacrificing himself for the salvation of the Theocracy from the conquest of the Eight Greed Kings. He was my creator and I loved him like a son loves his father!

    In my eyes they were flawless. Even if they had any, I would never have noticed them."

    When he had finished speaking, Antilene found nothing to say. Every word seemed disrespectful to him and she hoped her silence would suffice as a sign of respect for her master''s speech.

    Realizing that his pupil didn''t say a word, Rufus decided that the time had come to cheer the air with some news he had in store for her; he went to one of the archives in the room and pulled out two scrolls.

    "I wanted to wait for tomorrow to tell you but while you are here, I would say I can anticipate this good news. I managed to convince the Cardinals that the time had come to entrust you with an assignment outside the Cathedral to gain experience on the field. Look here." He showed the girl a map depicting the territory of the Theocracy, bringing her attention to the mountains to the south.

    "The inhabitants of some villages on the border mysteriously disappeared a couple of weeks ago; we sent a reconnaissance troop but it did not return. We''ve set up a small team with some Black Scripture members to see what''s going on, and I want you to be a part of it."

    "So, I can''t go kill my father?" Antilene was very disappointed; she hoped she would finally be given the chance to carry out her mother''s revenge but instead, it was just a boring mission that probably only involved some demihumans who had grown brave and decided to attack the Theocracy.

    "Not yet. I know you are thrilled to take him out, but the elven king is a formidable opponent. Sending you now would be foolish and reckless. For now, think about accomplishing this mission successfully, and then, perhaps, we can talk about it again."

    "Uff, alright, I understand. I will do my best! Listen, Rufus, after this mission do you think you can convince the Cardinals to stop that special training that they make me do?"

    In recent years, a method had been devised from the upper echelons of the Theocracy to eliminate the arrogance of some of the Black Scripture recruits: a rather simple system as it consisted only of a simulated battle to the death between her and the newcomer.

    So far, they had all ended up with his opponent lying on the ground bleeding and full of terror towards her. She didn''t particularly like it: fights always ended up being one-sided and boring; in addition, she believed that the feeling of fear towards her persisted for a long time. Being feared wasn''t very pleasant.

    "We have already talked about it. I know that it is not a job that satisfies you particularly but knowing how to recognize the danger and not underestimate the enemy are essential qualities that greatly increase the possibility of survival. In a certain sense, it is as if the chances of them dying on a mission are diminished; it is a selfless gesture to be proud of! It also has advantages for your training as it allows you to observe different fighting styles. Remember that no one is invincible, not even you!"

    The half-elf felt ashamed for having put her personal feelings before the life of her companions; she realized that still had a lot to learn about how the world worked.

    "I''m sorry. I will take my role more seriously in the future!"

    "Do not worry. Resuming the discussion, the mission will begin in three days. We will take the opportunity to review some notions on combat. Before leaving, you will be given a scroll containing the magic [Message]; if the situation becomes dangerous, do not hesitate to use it. I will come to rescue you immediately. Among the team members, there is a spellcaster capable of using teleportation magic but it is always better to have a few more options. Your safety is more important than the mission. Is everything clear?"

    Antilene did not need to have it repeated twice, she doubted that there was someone stronger than her, except true dragon lords, but the world was large and unknown dangers lurked in the shadows. Especially if that story they told her about the waves was true.

    "I understand. I will complete the mission smoothly and you will be proud of me!"

    She would return triumphant and then head to the capital of the kingdom of the elves. Just a little longer and her dream would come true.

 Chap 5: Adventure

    Cap 5: Adventure

    Lower wind month, 7th day, 6.30

    Antilene awaited with trepidation the beginning of the mission in the courtyard of the Cathedral of darkness. The night before, the goddess of water had blessed the lands of the theocracy with heavy rains that had persisted for the duration of all her sleep. The streets were still wet and a modest humidity enveloped the area.

    No one has arrived yet.

    The half-elf had turned up well in advance of the scheduled time for the appointment indicated by the Cardinals. The frenzy for her first official operation with Black Scriptures had caused her to get out of bed earlier than usual to double-check that all the equipment she had prepared was still as she had left it, more than once. As if some piece could come to life and drift away while she wasn''t paying attention to it.

    She wanted everything to be perfect so as not to disfigure in front of her older companions: the possibility of making a bad impression in front of them had accompanied the girl ever since she learned of her new position; it would have been ridiculous if the so-called secret weapon of humanity had presented herself neglected and with a degree of preparation not close to perfection.

    Now she waited in silence, while in her mind she went over all the indications that Rufus had given her in the previous days: their task was to go to a village called Forkel to investigate the strange events that had hit him in recent weeks, to identify any possible anomaly and, if possible, eliminate it.

    Everything has to be perfectly prepared. No errors. No distractions.

    While reflecting on a possible plan of action, she continued to caress Charon''s Guidance gently, almost as if it was a cute pet and not a lethal weapon. It was a habit she had taken from her teacher, who tended, at times, to take care of the legacies of the Six Great Gods with more care than human beings. Ever since she had discovered his true nature, that habit, which until recently seemed to her only a sign of his master eccentricity, now appeared to her the most natural thing in the world.

    The obsidian scythe created a pleasing contrast against the immaculate white decorated with gold plates of her armor.

    It was the sacred protection that belonged to Nekole, the god of the wind. Like all the other most precious relics left to the Theocracy, it was forged of a yet unknown material, and was the highest form of defense which belonged to the Scriptures.

    Making not one, but two of the nation''s holiest objects part of her permanent equipment showed how faithfully the Cardinals had believed in her abilities; a privilege rarely granted even to the most capable Godkins: only her mother and a few other warriors had enjoyed the same confidence throughout Slane''s long history.

    In reality, that armor also provided her with an additional advantage thanks to her talent: the use of Einherjar, an exclusive skill of the Valkyrie class, and Nekole''s secret weapon, which allowed its user to create a construct with slightly fewer fighting capabilities than the original to be exploited in battle.

    But what only she and her teacher knew was that starting from the knowledge of one that belonged to one of the gods, she herself managed to acquire a simpler version of the same class, the Valkyrie.

    Although most likely weaker than the one that belonged to the god of the wind, it still allowed her to have access to additional use of Einherjar, making the most difficult battles, in fact, a three-on-one fight. Only if her opponent had overwhelming superiority would he have a real chance against her. And even then, she could have used Surshana''s secret weapon to end the fight.

    In short, the chances that someone could beat her, even if not equal to zero, were still very low.

    Though it wouldn''t hurt, just once, to feel the blood boiling from battle.

    Deep in her heart, there was a little hope that someone would be able to let her know about defeat; it was a stupid and dangerous thought, which could have jeopardized the very safeguard of the Theocracy, she realized. However, she could not silence it.

    Those who reached the top of the mountain could not help but look down to notice the others desperately trying to reach the same height; no matter how much she held out her hand to help them climb, in most cases, the distance was so large that it was completely useless. And therefore, Antilene was forced to contemplate the view alone from that altitude with the desire that one day she would find someone to share it with.

    Bah, that''s just a bunch of nonsense!

    Meanwhile, she saw Cardinal Merel (she had finally managed to memorize his name) approach her, followed by four figures.

    Antilene knew who they were since she had spent the last two days interacting with them as much as possible to establish a mutual relationship of trust, essential in the most difficult missions. Even if the reduced timing had not led to great results. She had gathered some brief information about their abilities and their lives, but nothing more.

    A woman with long red hair, dressed in a black tunic was the first to speak to her.

    "Lady Zesshi, I see you arrived before all of us! We should really learn from your diligence!"

    Her small eyes, also black, were turned to the ground as a sign of respect as she spoke to her. Her name was Rosalie Tancredi and she was an arcane caster specializing in earth and ice magic. Unlike the other individuals present, she was not from the Theocracy, but from the Baharut Empire.

    There she had become an adventurer of the highest degree, adamantium, at the early age of 27. She had decided to join their ranks after her comrades had opted to retire from the profession, preferring the more comfortable life in the employ of a High Marshal of the Empire.

    At first, she had accepted a position as an assistant for some famous wizard of the empire but had later abandoned it because she was disgusted by his obsessions with some sort of Abyss. After long wandering, she found it more tempting to join Black Scripture to hone her magical abilities.

    The training fight with the half-elf had made her realize how much only a big toad was in a small pond and since then she had dedicated herself to the study of magic with as much dedication as possible.

    "Nono, I just got here. There is no need to show all these reverences to me. I''m a member of the team like all of you!"

    The respect others showed her more than pleasing made her uncomfortable. Counting the actual years, she was by far the oldest of them all, but her experience paled in comparison to that of her peers. But now the right opportunity to show others that she was an effective part of the group showed itself.

    "Your modesty sets you apart from us mere mortals. With you by our side, I am sure that this mission will end even before it starts!"

    It was a man with short brown hair and deep blue eyes who spoke. He had the mark of a few wrinkles on his face, but the well-trained body and the vitality that oozed from his gestures showed that he was far from reaching the age of retirement.

    Buvesez Isteni was his name and he was one of the Black Scripture members with whom Antilene was less familiar, as he had not taken part in her special training. As far as she knew he was a Divine Caster who specialized in support spells and one of the key members of their small team, as he was able to use teleportation magic.

    "I would say it''s time to stop the formalities. Now if you would kindly give me your attention, I will summarize the details of the mission. "

    Cardinal Merel called attention to himself; at the sound of his voice, all those present began to listen to him in a religious silence, a sign of the great authority held by the man.

    "First let me give you the magic items to conceal your features."

    The Black Scripture missions were carried out in the utmost secrecy, only a few within the Theocracy were certain of their existence, and as many measures as possible were taken to avoid any leaks. One of these was the use of small masks enchanted with illusory magic that significantly altered the appearance of the wearer.

    After giving one to each of them, the prelate resumed his speech.

    "As you know, some villages on the border have been the scene of mysterious events, the details of which are still unknown. Your job is to investigate starting with Forkel, the closest to your current location. Kapitel, we entrust the command of the mission to you."

    Kapitel Hazeia was a man with blond hair that formed a funny bob. Particularly capable and cunning ranger; he was also the head of one of the oldest Slane families whose family tree could even be traced back to the time of the Six Great Gods.

    In one of his history lessons, Rufus had explained to Antilene that from the foundation of the Theocracy no generation of that lineage had ever shied away from holding particularly important positions.

    "Received. We will accomplish the mission without making the slightest mistake."

    "We know our trust is well placed. The maps we have given you show the suggested stopping points for your trip, do not forget to use them."

    Scriptural missions generally required long walks to be accomplished in the shortest feasible time, as far away from population centers as possible. To make travel less burdensome, special stations for rest were set up, disguised as common inns. They were usually run by old retired members of the scriptures, who received generous tax relief from the state in exchange for the service rendered, to further maintain secrecy.

    At the time the system had been implemented in the territory of the Theocracy almost to perfection, and the Supreme Council had begun to implement it in some neighboring countries as well.

    "Can I ask a question?"

    A woman with long blond hair politely raised her hand to satisfy her curiosity.

    She carried a long-pointed spear on her back just a little smaller than her, and the ornate armor she wore enhanced the toned and muscular figure of her body. Her name was Campeao Sollius and she was the best paladin champion of the Theocracy.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Bright green eyes, a color reminiscent of emeralds, and a motherly smile caused anyone who observed her nostalgia for simpler times. Antilene couldn''t help but see her old nurse again when meeting her. Perhaps that was why it was instinctive for the half-elf to trust the older woman.

    "Sure Campeao, don''t pay compliments." The cardinal replied cordially as he smoothed his thick mustache with his fingers.

    "If we run into an enemy who has taken hostages, what will be our priority? Rescue the prisoners or take down the monster? Usually, the protocol tends towards the second option but in this case, citizens of the Theocracy themselves are involved."

    Indeed, such an incident had not occurred in their internal territories for several decades, and many of the procedures had not been updated over time.

    The half-elf remembered a case when she was still a child in which a group of arachnoids had kidnapped some members of a commercial convoy traveling to the main trading cities. When the Black Scriptures spotted them, the monsters used the still-living bodies of the prey locked up in their cocoons as a shield.

    The captain of the time, her mother, did not hesitate in cutting cleanly both arachnids and merchants. In retrospect, that had been one of the few times Faine had shared one of her adventures with her daughter. Perhaps that was why it had remained so embossed to her.

    "Um, obviously the preferable solution would be to eliminate the enemy without endangering the civilians. But I realize this could be problematic; therefore, I am sorry to say, the neutralization of the danger takes precedence over the salvation of any survivors. It should not be said that your safety has priority in the event that you encounter an enemy beyond your means. Even if I find it hard to believe that this is possible."

    It was evident that his latest statement was dictated by the immense confidence the old man had in the half-elf''s abilities. Antilene felt slightly embarrassed when she noticed that the others had started sneaking glances at her, but she tried not to let any emotion show as if what the Cardinal said was the most natural thing in the world.

    "If there are no other questions, I would say it is time to set out. The road ahead is long and we can''t waste any more time."

    Kapitel focused the attention of his comrades on himself; being the first to take the initiative emphasized his position as leader to the others. The assent he received from the Black Scripture members was the tacit response that they accepted his position as team leader.

    "May the gods absolve your actions." Cardinal Merel blessed them as he watched the group leave the Cathedral.

    The first day of the journey was quite monotonous and lacking in significant events.

    Antilene tried to start some conversation with the other members of the group, but the answers received were mostly monosyllabic; she wondered if it was normal for the Black Scriptures to stay focused all the time on the mission or if it was her presence that made them uncomfortable.

    The second day, on the other hand, was more noteworthy.

    The more deserted streets they took were devoid of large numbers of monsters; but, while crossing a particularly dense clearing, they encountered a scattered group of orcs who foolishly tried to ambush them.

    Kapitel, however, had noticed their intentions from meters away and had warned the small team to prepare for combat.

    Even before the attackers had time to make the slightest move, the half-elf made a long leap that took her behind the enemy lines, where she got rid of three of them at the same time in a few seconds; their blunt arrows were repelled smoothly from the armor as her scythe cut off their heads as easily as a troll crushes a helpless child.

    So simple. It''s like cutting paper.

    Her companions were no less capable: Rosalie froze the arms and legs of part of their vanguard making them fall to the ground then, thanks to the magic of the fourth tier [Judgment of the earth], impaled the surviving orcs with spikes rock produced by the minerals contained in the soil; the survivors suffered the judgment of Buvesez and his divine magic.

    The leader of the enemy group, an ogre with bigger features than normal, tried to hit Campeao with the big iron club he wielded as a weapon; but his arms were severed by the paladin''s sword before the monster had the time to realize what was happening.

    Going mad with the pain, he tried to escape to get to safety but Kapitel quickly cut his throat with the short sword he carried with him.

    In all, the battle lasted only two minutes.

    "They weren''t really anything special. I thought they would entertain us at least a little." Campeao exclaimed as she cleaned up some bloodstains that had landed on her face.

    "A delusion. I''ll have to wait for another opportunity to be able to show you the fantastic new magic of my invention." Rosalie looked particularly annoyed and irritated, different from the calm that usually distinguished her.

    "Well, there is nothing surprising. In these areas, there are only a few leathery insects that still do not understand who these lands belong to. I only regret that Lady Zesshi had to get dirty with their disgusting insides. Seeing their filth stain the equipment of the gods is a sad sight!"

    Buvesez''s words pointed out to Antilene some bits of meat that had remained stuck to her right back. The older man handed her a small cloth, pulled out of a pocket of his long green dress, which she used to clean up.

    "T-Thanks. Sorry for my carelessness!"

    "Hahaha, there is no need to worry. It is completely natural to get dirty when you are on the battlefield."

    "We have to apologize for letting you take the field. If we had been faster, you wouldn''t have had to make the slightest move. I promise you that next time you won''t have to bother with such insignificant matters!"

    The words of the other two women made her slightly embarrassed. She thanked the gods that the helmet covered her cheeks, which were colored with a lively blush.

    "Nono, I''m always happy to help. Don''t hesitate to use me, please!"

    Antilene didn''t want them to treat her as a decorative tinsel to put in a glass dome and show off in front of guests. She was part of the team, why didn''t they understand that?

    "I would say it''s time to stop these trifles and get back on the road. If we want to get to the Traveler''s Refuge before night falls, we can''t waste time. While we are moving, you will have all the time you want to chat!"

    Kapitel warned them harshly as he began to return to the road. He didn''t even wait for an answer from them before setting off again.

    "Don''t be too angry with him. He may seem stern, but that''s only because he was used to doing everything perfectly from an early age." Campeao whispered in her ear as they began to walk towards their destination.

    "Have you known him for a long time?" The half-elf asked, always in a low tone of voice, so as not to be noticed by the leader.

    "Actually no, only for a few years. But when you have so many adventures together it is almost natural to learn every detail of the life of your companions. But you will know better than me, even if you are short, you are the oldest here. Who knows how many fantastic stories you have to tell."

    Antilene realized that she had very few interesting things to share, most of her days were spent either in the apartment or with Rufus in the treasure room. Lately, she had taken advantage of some special permission to be able to wander around the capital in the evening but was always accompanied by a special guard who did not leave her alone for a moment.

    In fact, she found herself thinking that much of her life was rather monotonous.

    "This is the first time I''ve come out of Silksuntecks. I don''t have much to say."

    The paladin''s expression darkened; realizing her lack of tact, she tried to fix the situation.

    "I didn''t think the stories about you were true; please forgive my rudeness, Lady Zesshi."

    The half-elf saw that minimum of complicity that she thought had established slip away from her hands, the prospect of returning to that embarrassing silence of before troubled her more than she would ever admit.

    "Please." This time her voice boomed with a vigorous force so that everyone could hear it. "Tell me some of your exploits! I''d love to hear one of them!"

    Campeao and Rosalie looked at each other for a moment, astonished, totally unable to articulate the slightest word; Buvesez tried to initiate a profound speech that could impress the girl, but the only sounds that came out of her mouth were stunted words. "Here ... Yes ... There was that time ..."; even Kapitel found himself baffled for a moment, unable to understand what to do.

    In the end, it was Rosalie who initiated the speech. "So, let''s see. There was that time we had to eliminate that big sea snake that was said to live in a pond located in the territories of the lizard men. Do you remember?"

    "Ugh, don''t make me remember that bad place! Hours and hours waiting in a squalid swamp, with infernal humidity and legions of tiny bugs attracted to my skin like Cardinal Merel is attracted to mustache oil."

    The cleric''s expression took on a slightly disgusted air as his mind remembered the unpleasant sensations his body had had to undergo in the past.

    "And the sea serpent? Did you get rid of it in the end? Was it strong?" Antilene asked.

    "No, there was no such thing. Probably some of those lizardmen had spread the word around to avoid unwanted visitors. A great waste of time!" The ranger answered her as he continued to guide them along the path they had taken.

    "Yet Kapitel, I would not hesitate twice to relive that experience again. It''s not every day you see a super-elite like you with uncombed hair!" Campeao teased him with an arrogant smile, while she ruffled her hair to try to imitate the look her companion had back then.

    "Very funny. Yet I seem to remember that the one who complained about the heat was not me. Rosalie, help me, was it the captain who did it? Or someone else?"

    "Yes, there was someone who could not help disturbing that silence with his ravings. And, strangely, it wasn''t Buvesez."

    "This last comment was definitely too much! But yes, I also remember a vulgar woman intent on complaining like the great penitent before Alah Alaf!"

    "All I was doing was externalizing the emotions that all of you were trying hard to keep at bay. You should thank me instead of criticizing!"

    "So, Miss Campeao is the pain in the ass of the group?" The half-elf asked, tilting her head slightly to the right. The glittering tinsel of his helmet shone like the morning sun giving her small body an air of sacredness.

    Laughter began to spread among them, first timidly, then with more and more intense until it exploded into a whirlwind of sweet sounds.

    Antilene felt great happiness caressing her chest as she saw her companions begin to relax and joke with her.

    The rest of the journey was a continuous crescendo; the stories of the Black Scriptures were fascinating and varied: they ranged from encounters with mythological beasts to tales of espionage, visits to exotic lands with enchanted landscapes, or desolate places smelling of death.

    They were so immersed in reminiscences that the five did not even realize they had arrived at the inn where they would spend the night.

    Lower Wind Month, 8th day, 21.00

    What a silence!

    Rufus could not help but notice the calm that permeated his private room located inside the treasury of the Gods.

    "How long has it been without talking to someone? Antilene now comes here even on her days of rest. Speaking of her, I hope everything is going well."

    Just a week ago, he would have found the possibility that he might miss the company of a human ridiculous; but now here he was, alone, hoping that at any moment a small white and black speck exuberantly opened the large door of the room and began to jump around every corner, bombarding him with questions of all kinds.

    "Hey Rufus, what is this glittering tinsel?"

    "Master, I cannot understand this passage. Could you help me?"

    "I heard that in the main square they are putting on a show in honor of the goddess Lagusa. Why don''t we go together?"

    The first few times he had had to deal with that wide mouth he had been completely blown away: usually, his students alternated awe with a blatant fear of being the target of some curse.

    But little Antilene was one of the biggest challenges he had to face not only because of her skills but also because of her personal history and the scars she carried.

    So young, but already so much pain.

    "Father, I wonder how you would judge my work. Helping to raise a child was a challenge that I have never faced before and I still believe that I am not the best person. Not to mention the Theocracy, with each passing day the dangers only increase. I can''t stop thinking that will come a moment I''ll let you down. I''m so lost! I only ask that you give me a sign, nothing else!"

    As he expressed his emotions aloud, he carefully observed the surroundings. What would he give for a little hint that his creator was listening to him.

    No matter how stupid it might be, how insignificant, how trivial. He would have gladly sacrificed his arms and legs for just a little hope that his pleas would not get lost in the oppressive silence of the Cathedral.

    Is this your way to test me? How I would like to live up to your expectations!

    He knew that Surshana would return someday. Even among the Gods, he was special. The battle against the Eight Greed Kings had surely forced him to retire to regain his strength, when the time came, he would return triumphantly to lead them to a new golden age. If it wasn''t like that; if it wasn''t like that¡­ No, he didn''t even have to think about it! His faith was stronger than anyone else''s!

    Right?

    Live!

    The last order of his parent continued to be engraved in his mind as if a skilled sculptor had modeled it in his bones to preserve it forever.

    Live!

    Why had he been so cruel? Didn''t he realize that life without him was a constant pain? He would have gladly embraced death if that could have made them meet again.

    What a contradiction! For God-forged creatures like him, nothing was more painful than being away from their maker; at the same time, his nature required him to obey his orders, even if they involved torture for his soul.

    And he had done it. For more than four hundred long years he had holed up in that mausoleum, avoiding contact with the outside world as much as possible.

    Live!

    Even though he was left completely alone.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

 Chap 6: Mask

    CAP 6

    MASK

    ???

    The dawn light penetrated from the impressive windows of the Cathedral, adorned with sacred images depicting the amazing deeds of the gods. The bright colors of the decorations reflected like a kaleidoscopic prism the symmetrical figures formed by the encounter of the sun''s rays with the windows on the sides of the room, giving the latter the air of an enchanted dream created by the mind of a bored jinn.

    A fiery rainbow came to life like a seed that sprouted after years of precious care from a loving farmer, giving its splendor indiscriminately to anyone who wanted to receive its embrace.

    In the center, an immense parallelepiped-shaped altar, with the table resting on a quadrangular box open on each side and consisting of four supports supporting a roof positioned in the middle of the transept, was covered by the dome of the ancient basilica; it had been carved in lime and marble by the expert hands of an ancient craftsman whose art was now almost entirely lost in the Theocracy; an object of continuous imitations, very few comparable to such great mastery, which attempted to emulate a beauty that was not grasped by those who dwelt in the realm of men.

    Precious stones such as rubies, diamonds, crystals, and emeralds fit into perfect fragments in the shape of small cubes applied to the solid surface of the surrounding walls: a different scene was depicted on both sides.

    On the left one, a weeping man was lying in an act of supplication to Alah Alaf, the god of life. The god watched him in consternation as he stripped himself of all his earthly possessions until he was completely naked before his eyes in search of mercy.

    On the right, the goddess Ragusa was surrounded by infernal flames intent on consuming a horde of desperate demihumans. A frightened crowd rejoiced at the sight of the terrible end that had befallen their tormentors.

    Opposite of it was a throne carved out of oak, on the back of which represented the descent on the mortal plane of six divine beings. Above it, in a halo of golden stuccoes surrounded by angelic creatures, there was an alabaster back window depicting a skeletal figure holding a pitch-black scythe, made entirely of limestone. His every little detail had been hollowed out with the most obsessive care.

    A cloak delicately covered his body, the bones clearly visible from the folds of his dress. Paleness and shape were so accurate that it gave the feeling that it was a real human corpse, and not a mere imitation, being worshiped in that place.

    At the base of the statue was inscribed a warning phrase to all the faithful "Remember him, because he will not forget you."

    For citizens of Theocracy, experts and non of the Holy Scriptures, the memory of one''s own mortality was a continuous mantra repeated from an early age. Only by realizing the smallness of their life would they be encouraged to seek a way to achieve otherworldly immortality. If individuals, with their limitations, were not able to achieve great results, then they had the duty to unite to build a paradise oasis for all humanity. Only then, when the time came to reap their souls, would Surshana be satisfied.

    Prostrating on her knees in front of that terrible representation, a woman with long dark hair repeated in a low voice, in a solemn tone, a sumptuous prayer.

    "At that time the future disciples were frightened and confused. Fear reigned supreme in the realm of humans. Devoured like beasts and enslaved, they had lost all prospects. Beings with their mouths sewn up and their hands tied, only death could bring relief to their suffering. Until you arrived, or Powerful, or Magnificent, or Merciful and saved them. You brought the light where there was darkness. You took hope where there was only despair. In your honor, sumptuous temples were erected to try to celebrate, in vain, your greatness. The teachings you gave us were imprinted on our minds so that no one would forget them. Your words, water that nourishes the earth; your actions, charity for the poor. Your descendants sing because you have given them a voice. Your descendants weep because you have given them tears. Your descendants perform works in your honor, seeking your approval and your love."

    She wore a long gray velvet gown with red and indigo squiggles. A youthful face held the same pleading expression as she continued her litany.

    "May the gods bless our deeds. May they give us their wisdom to face the difficulties of life. We abandon ourselves to you to find serenity."

    How long had this been going on? By now she had lost count of the hours but, since she had started the afternoon of the previous day, she was certain that she had been in that position for at least half a day. Her stomach was starting to grumble demanding the right nourishment for its body. Her knees were red from the constant effort and she could hear them begging to be relieved of that burdensome assignment.

    She gritted her teeth. No matter how exhausting the effort was, only through sacrifice would the gods hear her plea.

    Surshana, besides, was the most demanding of the six. The absolute self-denial of the adept was the only way he would have had the slightest chance of being heard.

    "May the light of your blessing shine upon my offspring. Your servant is ready for anything as long as she is happy. If you want my life, go ahead and take it. If you want my soul, do what you want with it. If you want my happiness, may the smile never again appear on my lips."

    What she had recited was verse 25.17 of the third book of the scriptures of the God of life.

    It might have seemed strange to a person fasting the religious rites of the Theocracy to declaim the sacred texts of Alah Alaf in front of what was a performance in honor of the God of Death.

    But in reality, the cults dedicated to the two deities were closely related to each other, more than they were to those of the other gods.

    Speaking the writings of the light in this case was not seen as a sign of disrespect, but as a common religious practice for Slane''s doctrine.

    Using light to appease the darkness as a sign of blessing.

    Using the darkness to blind the light and cast a curse.

    In truth, over the centuries many had realized that the concrete value of these practices was very little, and especially in the neighboring kingdoms they had been almost completely lost, replaced by the more practical buying and selling of potions and healing spells to strengthen the faith of the common people in the works of the gods.

    But for some devotees, showing their faith was far more important than receiving a few earthly benefits, not because they were attracted by mere economic or material calculation but because of a sincere love for the gods.

    "I see that you are making an effort to request Surshana''s blessing."

    A mysterious figure approached her; it had slipped like a ghost among the pews of the church, able to move without creating slightest noise. There was only one person able to get behind the woman without her noticing.

    "Why are you here, master? Aren''t you afraid that some pilgrims will visit this place and see your presence?"

    The Cathedral of Darkness always boasted a large number of visitors, no matter the year, month, day, or hour. At any time, it would have been perfectly normal to find at least a couple of people praying or meditating.

    "Under normal conditions, you would be right. But we have temporarily closed the visits, pointing to urgent restoration work as an excuse. There is currently no danger of anyone noticing my presence. Not too many at least. But why don''t you get up and let''s talk face to face, like in the old days?"

    The woman struggled up from her supine position to look her interlocutor straight in the eye. Or at least those white tips he passed off as irises positioned on the top of his mask. But she knew very well what he was hiding. Not that it mattered.

    "Who told you I was in this place?"

    "It was Cassius. He told me he was very worried about you."

    So why didn''t he come himself?

    "Why should he be worried? There is nothing strange in seeing a new mother praying for the health and well-being of her daughter. I''m not the first and I certainly won''t be the last to do it."

    "What you say is true. But it is also true that usually, the auspicious ceremony for newborns lasts only a couple of hours at the most. Three in the most exceptional cases. You will agree with me that it is strange that you survive half the day!"

    Two or twelve hours. What a difference could it ever make? Hadn''t they taught her absolute self-denial towards the divine since she was a child? Why was it now a problem?

    "You should be with your daughter a little longer. Young children need their parents. They relieved you of your duties to give you a chance to spend time with her. You should take advantage of it."

    "My daughter is with her nanny now. She is in good hands. Now if you have nothing more to tell me, I would ask you to leave me alone! I expect to finish the third book before evening."

    Her teacher shrugged slightly in defeat. He remained motionless for a few seconds, without saying a word, while he continued to observe her.

    That silence began to irritate the woman, if he had something to say why didn''t he just say it? They had known each other for years, but still treated her like a naive girl who knew nothing of the outside world. But what did he know, locked away for years in his ivory tower? How many years had he not left the capital? Too many to count.

    "Faine, I received the answer to your request from the supreme council of the Theocracy."

    Are those old Cardinals too scared to tell me the answer in person and have they sent a spokesperson close to me to sweeten the medicine?

    "And what is the response?"

    She already knew the answer.

    "Negative. They believe it is too risky to attempt assassination against the elven king."

    How could something so obvious cause her so much pain? From the beginning, she had not placed the slightest hope in seeing her thirst for revenge indulged. Yet, she still felt the world collapse on her. As if the only point of support on a bottomless ravine had been stripped away. Her heart skipped a beat.

    "Did they carefully read the report I filled out? I don''t deny that Decem Hougan is a dangerous opponent, but with the help of the rest of the Black Scripture and Miko Princess, I am sure there is a good chance of taking him out. Give me an opportunity to get close to him without being protected by that horrible creature of his and I''m sure I can cut off his head even before he realizes it. One chance, I ask no more! After years of faithful and impeccable service, I ask only for this! One chance! Nothing more! Please, Rufus."

    It wasn''t going to be easy. From their brief confrontation, she realized how terrible Decem was. Her estimates put him roughly on the level of a True Dragon Lord. Mostly thanks to that Behemoth he used as a summon. But without it as his shield, there was a little hope that she could kill him. With a good diversion and a well-thought-out plan, the odds weren''t hopeless.

    What else could she do? Leave him unpunished after what he had done to her? Keep that monster walking the earth and allow him to fulfill his wishes with whomever he wanted? What if one day it got to her too? Would blood stop him from his search for the perfect heir? Nono, she couldn''t allow it. She had to protect her. It was her duty. If something had happened to her, she would never have forgiven herself.

    If Antilene had suffered her same fate, she would never have forgiven herself.

    "Faine, Faine please listen to what you say. Sending all the Black Scriptures and Miko Princesses against a single enemy, whose abilities are still not entirely clear. What if they lose? If the king managed to eliminate you all, what would happen? Not only would we lose our best soldiers, but much of the sacred equipment and the Crowns of Wisdom would end up in the hands of our enemy.

    No, it''s too risky. But even assuming you manage to kill him, can you guarantee that we won''t suffer any losses? That our military might remain unchanged? I don''t need to remind you of the very serious losses we suffered only a few decades ago. The other human kingdoms are still being rebuilt and lack the necessary resources to provide adequate support.

    We fall short on firepower and barely have enough to defend ourselves. And that lousy overgrown lizard just waits for a moment of weakness to overwhelm us. He says he wants coexistence between races but I know that this is only his hypocrisy, the only thing he wants is to restore the reign of his crazy father."

    Wrath was beginning to seep out of his words.

    "Ridiculous! He can''t stand seeing humans achieve greatness. I can already imagine seeing him gloating as our citizens succumb! Disgusting! Revolting! Nauseating!"

    Unexpectedly, a nefarious aura began to emanate from her master. Usually, he was the portrait of calm and composure but there was only one individual in the world capable of making him lose his mind, even if for a few moments.

    Faine did not know the story in detail but it concerned a serious betrayal that had been perpetrated against the teacher of Rufus, the protector of the Theocracy, more than three hundred years earlier by the son of the Dragon Emperor. That event had taken the name of "Great Betrayal" and was considered one of the darkest pages in Slane''s history.

    The undead looked towards the statue of his parent in search of lost serenity.

    It didn''t take him long to come to his senses and calmly resume the speech.

    "Now that we also have this Republic of Argland hassle to think about, our moves will have to be pondered much more calmly. Believe me when I tell you that it pains me to see your goal not being accomplished, but at the moment we have no alternative. If not even you could do anything against the elven monarch, I doubt that there is anyone in our entire sacred nation who can change that."

    No, there is someone. Someone is there.

    "And what are you going to do? Leave him free to build up strength for years to come so that one day he can knock on our door and destroy us? You know when that piece of shit wants something, there''s absolutely no problem getting it. Is this what you want? Answer me!"

    She wanted to remain calm, impassive. An iron mask. Don''t let any emotion show through. Just as they had taught her. But why was it so difficult?

    "It is since he appeared in the Evansha forest that that man - no that being - has not moved from his territory. Even if he decides to pay us a visit, we would be ready to receive it. Don''t worry about it. I will not allow anyone in the world to harm this country. Believe me!"

    Faine knew very well that what he said was true, as long as Rufus was present, he would fight to the last for the welfare of the Theocracy. Nobody loved that country more than he did. Nobody. Not even her.

    "Why don''t you join this hypothetical team too? The two of us together will have high hopes of winning. Me and you, teacher and pupil fighting together to free the world from a disgusting evil. Like an epic story from the past!"

    With him at her side, she was sure that nothing was beyond their reach. If he joined her, revenge would no longer seem like a pipe dream.

    "It is absolutely out of the question. You know very well that I can''t move from here; in case Surshana returns someone must be present to receive him."

    Liar. You know very well he won''t come back.

    "And besides, these are not decisions that are up to me. The Superior Council exists for a reason. I know you believe that my authority goes beyond that of everyone but there is a system that must be respected to prevent the advent of a tyrant. They are the foundations that make up the order of our state; respecting them is not only a sacred duty but a way to preserve our stability."

    Liar. Liar. Cardinals, Pontifex, and department heads kiss the land where you walk. If you were made of flesh, they would bottle the waste of your body to venerate them as sacred relics.

    "And besides, I''m not as strong as you think. My presence would change things very little."

    Liar. Liar. Liar. Why don''t you tell me the truth? Don''t I deserve that either?

    "You are afraid."

    She would have expected a terrible reaction, her tutor losing his temper at that grave insolence, the slightest sign of anger expected from an insulted human being. Screams, shouts, reproaches. Anything that reminded her he was alive.

    Not a sound, not a moan. The silence was worse than any action she had imagined he could take.

    And what was that oppressive sensation that she felt enveloping her body? No one was watching them, she was sure. It was just the two of them, no one else was present. The statue was the closest thing to a human being in that place. But it was nothing more than a successful decoration. A superfine and incredibly redefined work, of course. But only that. So why did she have the unpleasant impression that it was looking at them - even worse - judging them.

    "Go home, Faine. Your daughter is waiting for you."

    Nothing else. He didn''t even look at her as he walked away to return to his room - his prison.

    An undead who is afraid of death. It almost seems like a silly story for children.

    When she returned to her private apartments, only a mild-looking old woman was waiting for her.

    As soon as she saw her, the elderly lowered her head as a sign of respect; she was quick to inform Faine of how she had looked after the house during the day.

    "Lady Faine, welcome back. Do you want to see how the little girl is?"

    "No, not yet Perpetua. Tell me, did things go well in my absence? There weren''t any problems, right?"

    The old woman did not hesitate to reply:"She has been a little angel all day. There has been some crying, but it is normal for children of her age. Oh, you will notice it especially when her first teeth begin to grow."

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    "Uh uh, I understand."

    "Do you want to eat now? I made dinner in advance and now it''s a little cold. Seared veal with celery and carrots. Could take the opportunity to take a bath while I warm it up."

    "Yes, a regenerating bath is just what I need after the fatigue accumulated these days."

    While her housekeeper positioned herself in the kitchen to complete the preparations, Faine headed into a large and luxurious bathroom reserved for her personal use.

    She quickly filled the tub with water which he heated with a roll containing a tier 0 spell suitable for changing the temperature of the water. The woman scattered some regenerating salts that she had received as a gift from one of the Cardinals and immersed her body; in a few moments, the fatigue and dirt that had accumulated the previous day quickly faded away.

    It took a moment to relax, I''m so tired.

    Faine began to relax her muscles and let the atmosphere of calm take care of her in its warm embrace. The eyes began to close, invoking the proper rest it had been denied in the last few hours.

    "My dear, I see that you have decided to make yourself beautiful for me, what an honor. I will be happy to accompany you in the next hours of pleasure."

    Her pupils snapped open. There was no one. She was alone. Took a deep breath as she looked around. Only a few bubbles that came out shyly from the tub kept her company.

    "You really think you can escape me? How cute. But you know I''m here with you. I will always be here with you."

    Her mind kept playing tricks on her. Just silence.

    Calm down Faine, calm down. Don''t let it control your life. You are safe here. None can harm you. It''s all gone. There is no one here. You are not a scared girl. You are the strongest human in the Theocracy. The descendant of the gods. Next time you will show it to him. This was just a bad accident, a complication on the path of your life. Take a deep breath. Here it is. Much better.

    Unpleasant memories began to surface, part of her wanted to bury them in the deepest part of her mind; but another, louder and more powerful, continued to make them relive that horrible day. Every action, every move, and counter, every possible tactic were analyzed in search of a winning strategy.

    How many times have I seen that fight in my mind now? That abomination of earth and rock was faster than me but leaning slightly to the left before launching an attack, could this be a way to predict his blows? Judging by its speed, I have about 0.001 seconds to react properly. So little. I could never do it alone but with the help of Tasl and Verte I could find an opening.

    But he stood still. Why was he standing still? Does summoning that creature prevent him from performing any more spells? It would make sense given how powerful it was, usually, summons are weaker than summoners; but not that. How come? What is its secret? Perhaps there is some weakness that can be exploited. But if it were not so, if I were so weak as to have requested nothing more than a simple creature like so many others he has at his disposal?

    Maybe Rufus is right, we know so little about him. How can he be so strong? If only we had a way to beat him. I doubt the upper floors will decide to use the Downfall of Castle and Country blindly against him. No, it takes someone of overwhelming strength to annihilate him. Someone ... someone ... but who?"

    "Lady Faine, I''m sorry to disturb you. But dinner is ready."

    Perpetua''s call brought her back to reality; she had been soaked enough and the skin on her hands was starting to show signs of wrinkling from too much time spent in the water. Her stomach also begged for mercy, so she decided to get ready without delay with a velvet dressing gown that her maid had prepared for her.

    The dinner was of few words: Perpetua was not a woman with an easy chat and Faine did not want to engage in a passionate discussion with her, indeed with no one else, that evening.

    "Was the dinner to your liking?" Perpetua asked as she cleared the table.

    "Yes, it was as good as ever. Now, if you don''t mind, I''d like to go to sleep. I''m very tired."

    It was true, she was now over twenty-four hours awake, a good sleep would only have helped her.

    "The bedroom is ready, why don''t you go and see it before going to bed?"

    "Yes, I think I will."

    Placed in a room adjacent to hers was a small oval-shaped mahogany crib, similar to the shape of a nest.

    Inside, a small plump little creature slept blissfully; Faine remained for a few minutes in the dark in the room to observe her. Stroked her gently with her fingers as she listened to her breath punctuated by the beating of her heart.

    Don''t worry, my baby. Mom is here. As long as we are together, we can face everything.

    Faine scanned the girl''s face with her touch, the first hair starting to grow, the soft stuffed cheeks, and the pointed nose until she reached the point of touching her pointed ears. She hesitated. Retracted her arm. There was a knock on the door of the room. It was Perpetua.

    "Lady Faine, I''m sorry to disturb you. But the Pontifex''s delegate brought an important letter for you. He said to give it to you urgently because you had been waiting for it for a long time."

    "Do not worry. Give it to me as well."

    The younger woman quickly read the contents of the letter; a burst of satisfaction began to manifest itself.

    "Is this good news?"

    "Yes, at least they have listened to this request even if we will have to wait a few more years before starting with the training. Go and rest, tomorrow will be another long day."

    "As you like. With permission, I retreat to my rooms. Good night."

    Faine was left alone with her daughter, the future began to become clearer in her head.

    I know it''s going to be tough, but trust mom. You will become stronger than anyone else. Believe me, if it were possible, I would avoid doing it. But it is the only way to keep you safe. I will not let anyone harm you. You will probably hate me for it. But that''s okay. That''s okay. Sweet dreams, little Antilene.

    "Lady Zesshi, please this way."

    Rosalie showed her the way while an intelligent-looking little man made her and her companions sit inside the dining room. The Traveler''s Refuge was one of the many rest stations that were located within the territory of the Theocracy. It consisted of a space on the edge of the road on which three buildings stood: in the center, the one serving as a tavern and hotel for travelers, on the left a stable for the rest of the horses and mounts, on the right a building containing the lodgings for the guards.

    The symbol of the nation was posted at the entrance, a 7-branched candelabra surrounded by a laurel wreath.

    The scene that presented itself was quite different from what Antilene had imagined. Usually, taverns like this were a meeting place for colorful and noisy personalities, she would have expected to be greeted by an infernal din and the unsheathed laughter of customers, numerous waiters who wandered around the tables, fun and goliardic caused by bizarre and out of the ordinary game''s norm. Instead, all she saw was a few tables set and an oppressive desolation.

    In addition to the man who had accompanied the group, there was a second man, bigger and fatter than the first, along with three dejected-looking elves who were waiting to receive orders, careful not to make the slightest noise.

    "Mr. Marzius, it is a pleasure to see that you are in excellent shape. I hope our arrival will not disturb your business."

    Kapitel turned to the most imposing man, probably the owner of the place, with extreme familiarity. It was evident that there had been some past between the two, in fact, now that she looked at him better in the face, Antilene had the impression that he had already seen him. Could it have been one of her training companions? It wasn''t entirely unlikely.

    "Oh Kapitel, no disturbances. We received a message containing news of your arrival and we have prepared accordingly. As you can see, we too have closed the business to external travelers and only the bare minimum of staff remained with us, even my wife and children have been stationed in the nearest city to spend the night; naturally, our most capable guards now guard the boundaries of this small property to guarantee you absolute tranquility. But no more chatter, I see that Buvesez, Rosalie, and Campeao are with you too. What a joy to see you again after such a long time. And there is someone else too. "

    Marzius noticed the figure covered by her higher colleagues only after a few moments.

    But it didn''t take him long to recognize the armor she was wearing and the scythe her hands were holding.

    His face began to take on a strange color, and his confident and affable bearing began to falter little by little.

    "Lady Zetsumei. Then she was the distinguished personality who mentioned communication. What a great honor to have you with us. Hey, you!" He said to his collaborator and the three slaves. "Show all possible honors, one of the most important people in the country is here, we mustn''t make the slightest mistake. Did we understand each other?"

    The others began to move their heads up and down hastily as a sign of respect. The elves in particular showed particular concern at those last words, droplets of sweat began to descend from their foreheads. They were two women and a boy not much older than her.

    They wore discarded clothing but still in acceptable condition, and there were not many signs of abuse on their bodies. There were probably others of their kind who were faring worse. Not that she cared much.

    "Thank you very much, but the treatment reserved for all guests will be sufficient. Um, have we met somewhere before? Your face is not entirely new to me."

    The innkeeper seemed reassured by those words; the agitation began slowly to disappear.

    "Yes, yes. Amazingly, your grace remembers me after all these years. At least twenty have passed. At the time I was an arrogant kid and your grooming has greatly benefited my attitude. I still remember the words you said to me: if you are no longer humble you will die at the first opportunity. A piece of advice that I have always carried in my heart and, as you can see, it has helped me to withdraw to a peaceful life in old age."

    Twenty years ago, I was just a brat. I must have said something I had heard or read somewhere and repeated like a parrot just to sound wiser. But now this old man talks about it as if it changed his life. Is it true or is it just a clumsy attempt to get into my good graces?

    "Uh, I''m glad my words of the time were received with so much enthusiasm. It''s always nice to see a former Black Scripture member survive the dangerous life of the profession."

    "Now why don''t you sit down? I will prepare you a dinner fit for a king. I swear by the name of my house. "

    The man made them sit at a large table set with shiny silver cutlery.

    The dishes did not disappoint expectations. Pork shank with apricots was served as a first course accompanied by fresh seasonal vegetables. Cheeses made from cow''s milk and sweet jams accompanied the main course leaving a wide range of choices among the diners. Antilene opted for a piece of meat accompanied by a slice of gruyere with a semi-salty flavor.

    And as for dessert, she was served sweet bread in the shape of a dove, prepared with flour, eggs, honey, and almonds. The half-elf had never tasted anything like it, and found the delicate taste neither sour nor strong, a sweet surprise for her taste buds.

    Drinks included some apricot or pear fruit juices or, as an alcoholic alternative, a red wine from a famous grape plantation in the Kingdom of Re-Estize.

    Antilene took advantage of a moment of distraction from the others to sip a glass but found its sour and dry taste unpleasant, which instead did not seem to bother the other people present.

    But no one exaggerated; it seemed that moderation was an indispensable quality to be special agents of the Theocracy, which made sense. It was not possible to know for sure when they could be attacked, and while it would take the best of glasses to affect their highly resilient bodies, being caught unprepared could prove to be a fatal mistake.

    Finally, Marzius brought a pitcher containing steaming coffee, giving off a light roasted scent.

    "So, can I know what mission this is? Or is it top secret?"

    "It seems that a demihumans raid has caused some problems on the southern border. We were the only ones not engaged in another mission so they sent us to investigate." Buvesez replied as he sipped slowly from his hot cup, careful not to burn his tongue.

    "And they send Black Scripture members for simple demihumans? It seems strange."

    "I think there is something more sinister underneath. Some divination spells were used and the villages were completely deserted. No signs of a struggle, no blood on the streets. As if the inhabitants had disappeared at any moment without anyone noticing."

    Campeao looked worried. "There is a possibility that some Zurrernorn adept is involved. The prospect of dealing with those exalted does not excite me at all."

    Zurrernorn was a death cult that had made headlines in recent decades. Its members were all dangerous necromancers whose main objective was the study of spells for the summoning of powerful undead. Their activities were mainly recorded in the territories of the Baharuth Empire and the Kingdom of Re-Estize.

    But some hypotheses that had been made traced their origin to the territories of the Theocracy, in an ancient heresy of the church of Surshana. In any case, dealing with them would have been problematic.

    "We should be there by lunchtime tomorrow, and then we will be able to find out with our own eyes. If it comes to those death worshipers it shouldn''t be a problem, I ran into a lot of them during my adventuring days and they never caused me any problems."

    "I doubt you had anything to do with any of the executives. It is said that mastery in the use of fourth-tier magic is at least required to enter that circle. They are not opponents that we can afford to underestimate." Kapitel warned her.

    Fourth tier. Antilene thought. Nothing special, then. How boring.

    As she listened wearily to the speeches of her companions, she realized that the young elf continued to observe her insistently, thinking that he was not noticed.

    Did he realize my mixed blood? How is it possible? The amulet should hide my features. I''ll have to investigate the matter later.

    After having finished dinner, they were guided in their rooms: one for Kapitel and Buvesez, the other for the three women.

    Connected to the inn, a small spa room had been built, suitable for cleaning up. To take advantage of it, they decided to split up into two different groups based on sex so that the one not engaged with the thermae could guard the sacred equipment.

    Antilene felt slightly uncomfortable sharing a bath with someone else. The half-elf was used to normally undertaking the activity in complete privacy, meaning she was now unsure as to how she should behave.

    "There is nothing to be embarrassed about, we are all women here. Relax and enjoy this moment. Who knows how soon we will be able to experience a similar one?" Campeao encouraged her, having noticed the embarrassed expression on her countenance.

    The pool was not of considerable size, but it was large enough to allow all three to float comfortably, lulled by the boiling vapors of the thermal water.

    The half-elf decided to put her anxieties aside and let the sweet sensation caress her travel-tired muscles; slowly she felt the accumulated physical pressure decrease and her vigor return.

    "I didn''t think I could stretch out so much in the presence of other people, but I have to admit my fears were unfounded."

    "It''s a nice feeling, right? We should do it more often, even if unfortunately, our profession grants us very few opportunities like this during the missions."

    "This is, as you know, my first mission outside. I hope I haven''t caused too much trouble with my experience."

    The two older women looked at her for a moment in amazement, then started a rhythmic chuckle.

    "I never thought that the little girl who used my bottom to mop the floor could have such a, how to say, normal side. You look like an ordinary girl when you talk, I could almost forget what you are capable of, Lady Zesshi."

    "It is proof that people are much more than they appear. You and I should know Rosalie well, after everything we''ve seen."

    "What do you mean by this?" Antilene asked.

    "Um, it''s not easy to explain." The paladin pondered calmly in search of the right words to express her idea. "It''s just that a lot of times people tend to get boxed into the roles they fill. Especially when you work in a team like us. I believe that repetition of fixed patterns helps to relieve tension in the most difficult situations. It gives a sense of security needed when in unfamiliar territories and situations. Take Buvesez and Kapitel for example, the former looks like a pompous arrogant while the latter barely gets a word out when it comes to non-mission matters. Yet I have seen our beloved priest heal more than one person without asking for anything in return while our foreman melts like a marshmallow when he sees his beloved baby."

    Imagining the breadwinner of the Hazeia family engaging in facial stunts and other ridiculous gestures to entertain his child put her in an oddly good mood. There was something hilarious about the image that she couldn''t quite explain.

    "What you say is very true. After all, you too have a hidden side that you rarely show to others." Rosalie intervened.

    "For real? Which?"

    "You must know that when our dear paladin was courting her current husband, she ventured into an indefinite number of love verses to conquer him. Honestly, I find it hard to understand if you loved that man more or declaim poetry. Even if it worked in the end, given how solid your union is. "

    The blond-haired woman began to turn scarlet, and not because of the high temperature.

    "Eh, I guess you are right. Ah, to be young again and to walk the streets of Silksuntecks without worries, that would be great!"

    "Can''t you spend much time with your husband anymore?"

    "A couple of years ago he was assigned to Ashendust Scripture and between my work and his, the time to see us is no longer what it used to be."

    Antilene recalled that the Ashendust Scriptures had the task of protecting one of the sacred sites located outside the Theocracy, whose coordinates had remained secret even to her.

    It dated back to ancient times, prior to those of the 6 Great Gods when humanity had very little prospect of survival. Their task might have seemed trivial, requiring only constant vigilance, but it was extremely important to its function as the ultimate lifeline.

    "Not that we''re complaining. We both love this country more than anything else in the world. We would gladly give our lives to defend it. Being able to see us more rarely than other married couples is a small price to pay if it means that all the other families of the Theocracy will be able to live in peace!"

    It was not the first that the half-elf heard so emphatically declare such a powerful feeling for an immaterial entity like her own country. Not that her experiences with love were so profound but it was not difficult for her to imagine a deep affection for someone dear like her mother, Nazaire or Rufus. But your own country? How could anyone love something so large and abstract?

    "Rosalie, you come from the Empire, right? Why did you decide to join the scriptures, if I may ask you? "

    "I''ve lived most of my life there, that''s true. But my parents were originally merchants of the Theocracy, and since I was a child, they spoke to me with nostalgia about this place. When I found myself without a place to belong, the citizens of this nation welcomed me as if I had always been part of their community. I have visited many human countries but none preach love and respect for one''s fellow man like this. They gave me an ideal and a dream to fight for, and this is enough for me."

    "Yeah, it doesn''t matter how much blood we have to shed. If one day we will be able to free the world from all the horrors that threaten humanity, I would be ready to sacrifice myself even a hundred times, if necessary. And I''m sure this applies to every member of the Scripture. It does not matter the rank or the skill. Don''t you think so too, Lady Zesshi?"

    She was confused. Could she share the words of her companions? Was their dream of a luxuriant garden for humanity also hers? For as long as she could remember, only one goal had been fossilized in her soul: to kill her father. Nothing else mattered. But once she did it? What would happen next? It was a frightening prospect to face, which she decided to leave for her future self.

    "Yes, I believe too. It would be wonderful to one day see a paradise on earth for everyone."

    If she couldn''t fully believe the ideals of the Theocracy, she could at least believe those of the people she loved. That was enough for the moment. That was enough.

    After a few more minutes spent chatting about this and that, they decided it was time to make room for the two men. As they dried up, they changed into nightwear that Marzius had provided them to go to Kapitel and Buvesez''s room, where their gear had been momentarily cramped.

    When only the three remained, Antilene decided it was time to satisfy her curiosity and to talk to the elf boy who had stared at her during dinner. She tried to make an excuse to sneak into the kitchen where she was sure she would find her target doing some night work. The half-elf did not want to alarm the others with suspicions that were probably unfounded.

    "I''m sorry, but we have a strict order not to lose sight of you even for a second. If you want to go to the dining room, let Campeao or I at least accompany you." The arcane caster explained to her.

    "I''ll let you do a tracking spell on me so you can know for sure where I am. It won''t take long, just a few minutes." The half-elf tried to bargain with her senior to have a bit of freedom.

    "So be it, but it will only last ten minutes. If at the end you have not returned yet. I will take it as a sign that you are in danger and need help."

    And if I was in danger, could you help me?

    "Perfect. Let''s proceed."

    She found him in the lounge where they had dined only a few hours earlier, sweeping the floor with an old disused broom. Neither Marzius nor his assistant nor the other two elves appeared to be with him.

    Antilene found it strange that no one was watching him, but she justified it with the presence of the guards who watched outside the estate.

    "Hey!" She approached him nonchalantly. He was about ten centimeters taller than her, but his bent bearing and his head perpetually lowered in defeat made that difference imperceptible.

    "Uh, my lady, can I do something for you? Your every wish is an order for me."

    He immediately stopped attending to his chores to show her the sincerest devotion. The half-elf was now used to that obsequious behavior and decided not to pay much attention to it.

    "You''re alone? Where did the two women who were with you go?"

    "When night falls their job is to keep the men who are not on duty company. The master tends to get angry if they skip their duties."

    "I understand. I guess one of them is with Marzius then."

    "Actually, I think the owner prefers the proximity of his assistant to warm up in the evening."

    When he realized the last words he had said, he began to panic and try his hand at an endless sea of excuses.

    "Please pretend I''ve never said anything like that. I implore you or there will be serious trouble for me."

    "Do not worry. I have no interest in these matters."

    It was true. What or who the others carried in their nuptial bed was not a topic that particularly interested her. Indeed, not at all.

    "May I ask why you came looking for me? Can I do something for you?"

    "Yes, I want to know why you were watching me during the earlier dinner. Be honest, or I might get very angry. Killing you would be like cutting an apple to me. So, you better not play jokes."

    The elf was stunned by that accusation, that a little girl smaller than him had threatened him with extreme ease as if it were completely normal for her to blow his head off. A shiver ran down his spine. He felt the breath of death caress his neck.

    "It''s just that I was amazed to see such a young girl being part of such a dangerous group. Something in you reminds me of my sister, even if I''m not sure what."

    "Your sister? Are you saying I look like an elf?"

    "Nono, I would never allow myself to offend you with such inferences. Forgive me. Please forgive me!"

    He''s begging me on his knees. What a pathetic sight. Show some courage at least.

    "It doesn''t matter. Get up."

    Her interlocutor struggled to his feet, and for the first time, she noticed the color of his eyes. The variation between the irises was barely noticeable. But there was.

    "Are you one of the king''s sons?"

    "That bastard is not my father. He sent me to die like a dog. If the soldiers of the Theocracy had not noticed that my heart was still beating, now my corpse would be next to those of countless others. Although I wonder if it would''ve been better than this."

    "Would you like to see him dead?"

    "I would gladly give my life to see him on the ground lifeless."

    From the beginning of the conversation, he had finally shown a minimum of fighting spirit. Maybe he wasn''t as hopeless as she thought.

    "I understand. If it can console you, know that one day I will kill him. Goodbye."

    "Wait up."

    He called her as he was about to return to his companions.

    "What do you want?"

    "I listened to you. Now please, listen to me."

    "Speak out."

    "Kill me. I can''t live like this anymore."

    "No."

    If he had wanted to kill himself, he could very well have done it himself. It was not her job to bring relief to suffering souls.

    "Aren''t we going to pity you a bit? Look how I am reduced. Watch me! Do you think these scars on my arms were self-inflicted? I am no longer a man, but just a beast!"

    Try as she might, Antilene could feel no pity for the plight of the elves. How many years had they accepted his father''s tyranny?

    When the war had begun, they could have taken advantage of it to join the Theocracy and be able to get rid of that king they so much said they detested. Instead, they had decided to fight for him. They couldn''t complain about their fate now.

    "If you are so unhappy with your life, fight to make it better. Don''t wait for someone to come down from heaven to solve your problems. It does not work like this. Humans are weak but they unite to make up for their shortcomings. True, the strong prevail over the weak. But it does not mean the latter have to accept their fate passively. I hope that one day you will be able to find peace."

    She left him there alone as she walked away in silence.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

 Chap 7: Madness in the village

    CAP 7

    Madness in the village

    Lower Wind Month, 8th day, 10.00

    The desolation in the village of Forkel was more depressing than Antilene could have imagined.

    Not a specific lament or any sound that could announce any desired human activity was recorded among the small marble houses in the street, from which she and her group had entered the small hamlet.

    The roads were completely abandoned; not a single person wandered there. But the strange thing was the numerous objects of daily use such as bags, toys, and work tools left without care in the desolate paths.

    Some cattle carts were still attached to poles at the ends of the streets, and the remains of decomposed bones showed the sad end that the poor animals had endured, watchfully waiting for their masters.

    Even the fields intended for agriculture, normally teeming with life, were reduced to an empty soundproof bottle.

    Not a sound. Not just any testimony of human activity. I almost miss my maids'' clumsy chatter of circumstance.

    The half-elf found herself looking nostalgically at what once she considered only an unpleasant nuisance. Never she would have thought of looking with nostalgia at those interactions that until a few days before had been a source of constant embarrassment.

    It had been only a few hours since they had left the Traveler''s Refuge but, luckily for them, the destination was not very far. They managed to arrive before the sun could reach the middle of its journey.

    "Not even the smallest ant goes through these parts. Do you think a trap is waiting for us?" Rosalie had been moving her eyes for more than ten minutes without stopping in search of the smallest trace to follow, but without obtaining any concrete result.

    "When I was in the army during the campaign against the elves, I have more than once come across some ambushes. Enemies usually tend to let opponents fall into a false sense of security and then catch them when they are most vulnerable. But everything here stinks from more than ten kilometers away. If there really were some pitfalls, there are two cases: either our preys are incapable or this place hides some secret that goes beyond common sense. In any case, there is something strange here. The houses were left open and abandoned as if there had been a general evacuation, but despite this, there are no signs of unexpected chaos. On the contrary, I invite you to look at your feet."

    After his exhaustive explanation, the Hazeia householder pointed his finger to draw their attention to the ground they walked on. "The traces that remain show that the inhabitants have quietly moved away from the place, not letting fear take over. Yet, many of their assets have been abandoned. Why?"

    "This is all very strange; it is as if at some point they have decided to abandon everything and take nothing with them. I understand toys and other amenities, but why abandon the animals as well if they had no danger at their heels?"

    Buvesez sought an answer of assent among his companions to cram his doubts, but without finding satisfaction with his request.

    Antilene squeezed her mind to the point of unbelievable, as being able to find an answer to that apparently inscrutable enigma would have earned her points in the eyes of her fellow companions. Unfortunately, the only thing she could guess was her lack of ability to put together the pieces of an intricate puzzle.

    I should practice more with the logic exercises. Absolutely one of the things to review with Rufus after this mission is over.

    "Well, we just arrived. Why don''t we take a closer look? It is useless to make assumptions before having a clear picture of the complete puzzle." Campeao proposed, starting first to take one of the abandoned avenues.

    The group began to move in search of any clue, being careful not to leave even the tiniest particle of dust aside.

    Antilene began to inspect the empty houses in search of possible traces, but found only the same scene that repeated itself endlessly before her eyes: empty rooms with household items left alone as sentinels awaiting the return of a ruler than ever will come back; dishes with scraps of food whose stench spread in the air with a deadly insistence that made the half-elf grateful for the protection from unpleasant odors that her helmet granted her.

    The only living things still present were rodents and insects that had made those ghostly places their new realm, a hymn to dirt and disgust.

    What a smell! It feels like being in a stable, not that I''ve ever been there.

    An overwhelming feeling began to surround her, there was something deeply wrong; someone or something had used that place as a theater for his macabre experiments, how else to explain the total absence of all the inhabitants?

    Perhaps some obscene ritual had blossomed in that place and those poor people had been the unsuspecting victims; the possibility that the members of Zurrernorn were the architects of that sad project grew stronger and stronger in her mind.

    No mercy for the perpetrators of this disaster.

    While observing yet another abandoned kitchen, a sheet of paper caught the girl''s attention. Above it, some figures had been drawn with almost unrecognizable shapes, but which evidently had to represent a happy family given the writing "Me, Mom, Dad" that had been awkwardly affixed to them.

    She looked at it meticulously, as if it could have hidden the keystone to unlocking the enigma of that place but, obviously, nothing of the kind was hidden in those senseless scribbles whose structure at best recalled the project of a drunken architect.

    Antilene continued to look at it. She turned it front and back, and greedily inspected every corner. Still nothing.

    Why couldn''t she stop?

    "What''s so interesting about that waste paper, since you are looking at it so obsessively, Lady Zesshi?" Campeao asked, sneaking up behind her.

    The paladin had begun tidying up the clutter of that house, perhaps to make their investigation easier, or perhaps just to restore dignity to what had once been a warm home.

    "Nothing. It''s just garbage!" The half-elf placed it where she had found it with nonchalance and then quickly left the building.

    After not having obtained anything useful, the five decided to go to the village square, the center of trade.

    Normally that place would be teeming with life, between people busy earning their daily bread with the fruit of their labor and passersby interested in finding a way to make the day payoff. Casual workers, security guards, improvised merchants: there was room for everyone at the large table of occasions offered by the thriving economy of the Theocracy.

    But even this time their expectations were disappointed, an inkling the little group had felt too frequently in the last few days. The stands were on display with all the merchandise still intact, or at least the remains of what were once products suitable for sale, but nothing useful or interesting caught their attention.

    "Even here there is nothing but junk. Are we sure it''s nothing more than a stupid joke organized by some jokey prankster?"

    Rosalie began to wander among the stalls in the vain hope that some hidden treasure was left at their mercy, so that they could be grabbed without delay. The mage doubted anyone could claim them. But all she managed to find were dishes that had by now gone bad and some magical object not even remotely comparable to the ones they brought with them.

    However, they decided to stock up on some tier-zero potions and rolls in case they might prove useful in the future.

    "I would say that nothing of our interest remains here. Why don''t we take the opportunity to have lunch and choose our next direction?" Kapitel proposed.

    "It seems like a good idea. In fact, I''m starting to feel stomach cramps from hunger."

    It had been more than six hours since they had breakfasted at the Traveler''s Refuge, and by now Antilene was starting to be hungry. Thinking back to the place they had left made her wonder what the boy she had argued with the night before was going to do. But that thought only lasted a quick moment, and then dissipated like a soft breath in the wind before her attention returned to their task again.

    On the main road, they found a small shabby inn, also obviously devoid of any human activity, inside which they set up temporarily to be able to eat in comfort.

    Before leaving, Marzius had prepared some provisions for them that included rye bread with finely cut slices of roast veal inside, aged cow cheese, and an assortment of seasonal fruit, that the group quickly devoured. Once satisfied with the meal, they did not hesitate to quickly return to focus on the mission.

    "Well then. Let''s consider what our options are."

    Kapitel took out of his bag a small map showing the whole southern area of the Theocracy.

    "Now we are here!" He said pointing with a finger at a small dot where the city of Forkel was located. "In all, there are three other villages we have to go to. To the east is that of Thrush: of all, it is the smallest and most insignificant. I doubt we will find anything other than what we found in this place. So, I would say to leave it for last, just in case we don''t find anything that can help us in our work for others."

    "What about the other two?" Campeao asked as she looked carefully at the map before her eyes.

    The emerald irises quickly scanned the lines drawn on the piece of paper. Even if the strong woman didn''t give that impression, her mind was trained to quickly judge the lines that demarcated the territories.

    "To the west is Darelf, it''s a village similar to Forkel. According to the information provided to us by Cardinal Merel, it was the place where the first rescue team had been sent. The one who has never returned."

    Buvesez put his hand on his chin, his fingers ran between the hint of fuzz that began to appear as if that futile gesture hid a secret and ancestral method, known only to him, to reflect more deeply. "Could there be some powerful undead involved? Maybe a vampire or an elder lich. Those abominations are proficient in the use of magic. It could be an explanation as to why there are no signs of a possible battle left."

    A mere elder lich or any bloodsucker would have little means at their disposal to cause this disaster. Antilene thought. Her teacher had profoundly instructed her on the abilities that the most insidious monsters could show off, and considered it unlikely that there was one of those creatures to engineer that incident. It must be something else. But in none of my lessons have we studied anything like this.

    The ranger began to look around bored, the lack of concrete tracks to follow was starting to irritate him, and his composure began to waver like a pierced amphora, gradually losing the water it contains.

    "Surshana knows if that''s true. It is certainly a hypothesis that we cannot discard a priori. But I think there is something even more terrible behind it all. Unfortunately for us."

    Antilene couldn''t help but feel a hint of excitement. It was wrong to hope for the appearance of a formidable enemy, she realized. But in order to grow as a warrior she needed opponents of her own ability, or the danger of being trapped forever in a situation of immovability would have manifested itself.

    "And what about the last stage? Where is it?" The half-elf asked, stretching bored as she rocked in the chair.

    "South. It is not a real suburb but a small frontier fortress called Ferrum Castrum."

    To make their borders safer, it was not uncommon to find in the territory of the Theocracy some fortified camps that acted as a shield against the races of demihumans who lived in territories far from their reach. Usually, the men stationed there were veterans of the war against the elves or other military operations conducted by Slane, and were more than capable of holding off any enemy that did not cross the ordinary territory.

    But not this time. If they hadn''t even had time to leave a message, evidently the danger they had faced was more formidable than what was normally expected.

    "What do you think is the best move to do now, Kapitel?"

    "If there is no objection, I would say we will have to head to Darelf first to see if there are any survivors left, even if I honestly doubt that is the case. But hoping costs nothing, right? Once we are done there, we will be able to focus our attention on the fort."

    "I think it''s a good idea." Rosalie said, as she cleaned the dust accumulated from her tunic after staying for too long in that decadent place.

    "Let''s get out of this inn quickly. I''m starting to get bored and can''t wait to finish this mission."

    "So, if you all agree, I would say we can go on a journey. From here it will take at most a couple of hours before arriving. Come on, we have no time to waste."

    Everyone present gave a sign of agreement to show that they accepted his decision.

    Antilene began to set out with her companions, unaware of what would happen shortly thereafter.

    A hooded figure wandered around the uninhabited field, surrounded by large walls that would make even the most cowardly of goblins feel safe.

    But the man knew very well that there was something dangerous lurking between those parts, or at least there had been in the past days.

    The evil aura that permeated the air would have been perceptible even by the most incapable of necromancers, let alone for a master in the dark arts like him.

    A handful of skeletons, covered with cuirasses adorned with a coat of arms depicting a seven-pointed candlestick, rummaged through the ruins of the place in a desperate search for any object that could have proved propaedeutic for their purposes, but to no avail.

    He sighed. They had been there for days but not even the slightest sign of the spiral of death was visible from that place. Yet the chief was sure it was there. The possibility of realizing the dream of their cult was finger-friendly now, he said. But now, Radest was beginning to fear that it was just a vain hope that was waiting to be crushed as a poor sick man is devoured by a starving ogre.

    Could it be that Lord Kunivela was wrong? Nono, what am I thinking? If he is certain that the spiral of death has occurred here, then it must be so. A layman cannot afford to question the teachings of a sage.

    He ordered one of the undead to inspect a rundown tent that had belonged to one of the local soldiers. Perhaps the very one who was now following his orders.

    He had lost count of how many times he had given that command, but there wasn''t much more he could do. Like the intricate mechanism of a well-oiled machine in perpetual motion, the undead reiterated its patrol. It had been instructed to continue with the search until he found something that might prove useful to their plans.

    Certainly, Radest had no intention of contradicting his leader''s orders. Not out of fear, which would have been totally justified given the frightening powers he possessed, but out of respect. Respect for the man, if he could speak of a man, who had taught him everything and saved him from a monotonous life in the service of false gods. A blessing for his immortal soul that could now rise to the achievement of a preparatory purpose for humanity.

    Still nothing. Ugh, I hope something happens to break this monotony. It''s starting to be annoying to stay here without anything interesting to do.

    Radest stretched his shoulders; feeling the weight of his bones getting heavier and heavier. He began to wriggle his legs in strange movements to keep his muscles from atrophying from the lack of exercise.

    A nice, warm bath would be delightful now. I''m starting to smell bad.

    "Hey Radest, I see you''re keeping yourself busy."

    A woman wearing a long dark robe that completely covered her body approached him.

    Unlike him, she did not wear a hood that almost completely concealed her face, making her silky white hair clearly visible, gathered in a braid that fell gracefully on her right shoulder.

    The small frizzes that began to appear uncertainty on the sides of his nose showed without restraint the withering of what was once a natural freshness.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Etysh, what are you doing here? I thought we were forbidden to leave the positions assigned to us."

    His companion looked at him seriously, unusual for a free-spirited person like her; even the timbre of her voice, as she punctuated every single syllable with precision, began to become heavier than usual.

    "Precisely for this reason I came to warn you. It seems we have visitors."

    Nothing unexpected. It was natural that the Theocracy would send more men after that handful of soldiers who had visited them a few days before. He just didn''t expect them to arrive so soon. In any case, it would be just a nuisance that would take at most a few minutes to avert. A stone in the shoe to be removed without too much trouble.

    "Nothing to be worried about. They will be as incompetent as those of the last time. Just other puppets to reinforce our ranks."

    He watched one of his "puppets" move with a total lack of harmony next to them. It was hard to believe that he was once one of the so-called elite soldiers of the strongest human nation. But after all, in front of the executives, even the creme de la creme of the Theocracy was just a frightened brat in front of an imposing dragon.

    Radest ordered him to bow down at his feet. Not for any real use, as he just wanted to forcefully assert his supremacy over those he considered inferior beings. Seeing the once brave soldier humiliate himself gave him pleasant amusement.

    "It seems that this time they sent more than just common soldiers. The chief observed their movements with the magic of divination and believes they are members of the secret Black Scriptures. Their equipment is different from that of the common militia. They could turn out to be very, very dangerous. He forced us to pay the utmost attention." Etysh looked worried and Radest couldn''t help but wonder if her fears were justified.

    Of course, the legends of the Black Scripture exploits had reached his ears as well. But it was common to inflate the news to make their special units scarier than they were in reality. A simple preventive tactic adopted by many nations around the world.

    And then, even if all the stories were true? No one was stronger than their leader. He was ready to put his hand on the fire that not even that famous bagatto of the Baharut Empire was comparable to him. In the worst case that he had to intervene himself, the matter would be over even before it had time to begin.

    "Do we know where they are heading at the moment?"

    "We think that for now, their destination is Darelf. Yalen, Gali, and Worthington were finishing up their searches and were alerted right away. It seems that to avoid any nasty surprises the boss decided to send his two puppies through teleportation magic to provide them with support."

    The "puppies" his companion referred to were some of the scariest creatures that walked the land. Even for someone like him, accustomed to the sight of hellish creatures, their presence was a source of natural terror. Their participation made the outcome of the battle a foregone conclusion.

    He admitted to himself that it caused him a little displeasure. A minimum of movement would not only do him good after the indolence of the last few days, but it would also break the unbearable boredom that gripped him. Well, not that there was anything to be done.

    "It looks like we won''t have to bother too much. I admit I''m a bit disappointed, but that''s okay. We have a task to complete."

    "Are you sure?"

    Etysh continued to show a veiled feeling of discomfort. An absolutely pitiful sight for one of the twelve performers of the Zurrernorn cult.

    "What are you so worried about? Even assuming that they manage to defeat the executives in Darelf they should then enter this fort, where 4 other executives and our leader await them. Frankly, I think it''s a desperate undertaking."

    The hypothesis that someone could break through their defenses so easily was unthinkable. No human being could have done it. No one.

    "I can''t exactly explain why, but I have a bad feeling. As if we had caused something that had to be kept hidden to show itself. I know, I know. They are stupid paranoia without any foundation. Despite that, I can''t stop feeling a shiver in my backbones. Like a scythe around my neck waiting for every little movement of mine, ready to reap its harvest."

    Seeing his partner in that condition had the effect of deeply strangling Radest, who began to wonder if perhaps he was not taking the situation too lightly. After all, Etysh was the most capable of their circle and the second in command of the organization.

    What if her fears were not groundless? They still had time to escape and retreat. Yet, they were so close to achieving their goal. He felt that only a little more time was needed. One single step and their names would go down in history.

    "Don''t let this superstitious nonsense take control of your mind. We have nothing to fear. Despite what the common folk may think of us, we are not mindless fanatics. We are researchers. We are pioneers. One day all of humanity will be grateful to us for our efforts to defeat death."

    Etysh took a little circular pendant engraved with the sign of Zurrernorn, a symbol of her position. The woman ran it slowly through her fingers as she began to sing a baby lullaby.

    Radest remained silent listening to her sing. It was not the first time he had seen her perform for no apparent reason. After so many years together, the man had begun to understand that it was an instinctive reflex that the woman made every time she felt disturbed about something. Even his undead slaves seemed to be captivated by the melody for a fleeting moment, before resuming their assignments.

    "I just wanted to see him one last time before I died, that''s all." The woman said. The suave motif came to an abrupt halt, remaining unfinished.

    Radest continued not to utter any lemma.

    "Do you really believe that we are close to achieving our goal? Tell me, Radest. Are you ready to swear that soon we will be able to resurrect anyone? That we will no longer have to fear Surshana? Because I see we''ve been here for days and we couldn''t get a spider out of the hole."

    No, it wasn''t true. Just confirming that a second spiral of death had occurred in this remote place was an extraordinary result for their research.

    "Yes, I''m sure"

    Why do I have the impression of deceiving you?

    "I just hope you''re right."

    Etysh returned to her post, while Radest resumed ordering his undead servants.

    There was nothing else he could do.

    <hr>

    "Be careful, we don''t know what might be hiding around here."

    The village of Darelf at first glance presented a scenario identical to that of Forkel.

    Deserted streets, goods of various kinds left in bulk, and complete absence of any form of life other than mice or cockroaches.

    Yet Antilene knew that something was different, she felt the blood boiling for the impending battle.

    Calm and cool. Repeat like a mantra: I am a servant of the Six, I am the sword that exercises impurities. Eternal glory for the faithful who abnegate themselves to the cause.

    Verse five, chapter 3, of the second book of the adepts of the earth thundered in her head. The half-elf finally understood why she had to study the words of the scriptures so diligently: there was power in those letters, a power that worked on body and spirit.

    Good, my baby. A perfect soldier.

    What would her mother feel seeing her now? Satisfaction? Respect?

    "I hear some noise in the distance, maybe there are survivors."

    The ranger led his group until they reached what appeared to be the main street of the suburb. An uncomfortable air spread through the neighborhood; the scent of death tickled the nostrils like a shrewd lover caressing the most intimate areas of his partner.

    "I don''t like this place, there is something wrong here," Buvesez said, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

    "Stay focused, old man. I don''t want to be the one to save your backside if things get tough."

    Four small will-o''-the-wisps burned incessantly behind Rosalie, a sign that she had decided to fully prepare for battle. Each of them granted her small bonuses to cast her spells: the one on the right end reduced mana consumption by 2%, the one on the left end increased the offensive potential of her spells by 3%, of the two remaining ones increased the resistance against the spells of her opponents, while the latter increased the likelihood of additional effects occurring.

    "Look over there!" Campeao attracted attention by pointing to what looked like a patch of dust that was approaching quickly.

    After a few fractions of a second, the beings that made it up became more visible: zombies and skeletons began to hit the members of the Black Scripture as a tsunami crashed on the rocks.

    The paladin was the first to react. Forcefully planting the muscles of her legs on the ground, she quickly swung her broadsword in an arc of about one hundred and thirty degrees that easily broke the joints of some of the skeletons who had first started the assault.

    The extreme ease with which she handled the colossal weapon was a testament to the hours the woman spent training to handle it. Like all Black Scripture armaments, it was a relic passed down from generation to generation by the Gods, which on that particular occasion proved particularly effective, as it increased the damage inflicted against undead and evil creatures.

    Rosalie decided to cast the spell of fourth tier [Ice Prison] to test the abilities of the enemies. A frozen cage about seven meters high rose between the rear, trapping them quickly in frostbite. The rotten flesh of the zombies began to crumble from the low temperatures as the numb air began to spread among the undeads. After a few seconds, a substantial portion of their number had been reduced to dust.

    Antilene began to rotate Charon''s Guidance with graceful mastery. Her swaths wreaked havoc on opponents who could not help but suffer the blows of her weapon.

    She sliced their decomposed bodies like marzipan, the remains of which began to accumulate at her feet.

    Surshana''s legacy became an extension of her arm, the white of the armor combined with the black of the scythe created a small two-tone vortex that began to suck the ever-smaller number of zombies and skeletons into its coils.

    They are really weak. If their numbers weren''t that high, we''d be done in seconds.

    "Fuck. Fuck. Have you noticed their clothes?"

    Buvesez cursed aloud as he threw bolts of light at the horde, creating small shining shows of colors. He seemed shaken by something.

    "Yes. Some of these undead wear armor with the crest of the Theocracy."

    "Many, on the other hand, dress in simple cloth clothes. Could they be the missing inhabitants?"

    Campeao cut off the head of the last remaining zombie.

    The five were now alone, surrounded by corpses turned to the ground that slowly began to disappear.

    "If it''s really about the citizens we were looking for, that''s a big deal. I don''t know of any spell that can turn so many people into undead. The matter is starting to get dangerous."

    "Someone was maneuvering them or it''s not clear how they all came together against a single target. Kapitel, see if you can find anything."

    The ranger activated one of his skills in search of any maneuvers in the shadows. After a few seconds, he had his answer.

    "There," he said, pointing to a two-story building a few meters away. "I hear the sound of some footsteps."

    "I''ll take care of it."

    Antilene leaped quickly towards the indicated place using all her strength. A small crater was formed by the impact of its thrust, raising a modest fuss.

    She busted into force from one of the windows of the structure, smashing it to a thousand bits on the floor.

    "What the hell¡­"

    A hooded figure was surprised by the unexpected visit. The half-elf saw him try to cast some spells, but she was so fast that the man didn''t have the chance to finish his move. Her scythe penetrated with force and speed into his right collarbone. A surgical puncture dug into his flesh; small drops of blood began to flow gently from his circulatory system.

    "Argh ..."

    The mysterious man spat out a mixture of blood, mucus, and vomit, while his body collapsed to the ground in pain. Antilene had reduced the pressure of the blow to the minimum possible to avoid unwanted deaths, but the result was still more than enough to crush the fighting spirit of her new victim.

    "Speak, who are you? Tell me everything you know!"

    She placed her toe on his torso to hold him still. It was difficult to control the amount of strength to avoid shattering his internal organs.

    Remember he is not like you. Pieces of glass that can shatter with the slightest contact. I have to be delicate. I think he''s more resilient than normal humans, but I still can''t afford to kill him unintentionally. Not without having extracted all possible information from him, at least.

    "You''re crazy if you think I''ll tell you anything you want. You can burn in hell for what ... Cough ... cough ... I can''t breathe ... "

    A little extra push shouldn''t be a problem. Just a little bit.

    The toe of her shoe got heavier. The man felt the bones begin to crumble like plaster, his lungs contracted to make it a titanic undertaking to breathe.

    "Do you want to talk now?"

    "Do you think it takes so little to break me? Damn asshole, you don''t know what to expect. You will all be dead soon! Gali and Yale are coming with the tools of your end! There is no escape, Surshana is waiting for you ... "

    "Shut up."

    She gave him what from her point of view was a light slap, a barely hinted caress but which was enough to stun him since he had finished rambling nonsense.

    And now? All I can do is bring him back with me and wait for him to wake up. Well, it will be a perfect opportunity to hone my torture techniques. I''ll have to ask Buvesez to keep him awake for a while, I can''t risk him falling to the ground like a salami again. Ugh, next time I have to be careful to not be bothered by stupid words.

    Antilene began to search the stunned body. Only a few days ago she would have found it awkward to touch the most private areas of another human being. Yet, her fingers moved firmly as she inspected every little hole.

    Nothing but a funny circular locket and a handful of common items. Off, I was hoping for more sumptuous loot.

    Having made sure that nothing precious deserved her time, she loaded the unconscious man on her shoulders, ready to carry him to the square where the others were waiting for her.

    Before she could make the slightest move, a [Message] came from Rosalie.

    "Lady Zesshi, quick! I don''t know how long we will be able to keep them!"

    An unusual concern transpired from the voice of the enchantress. She was usually composed and calm, but now she expressed squeeze and anguish.

    What is happening? Better check it out.

    Poking her head out of the remains of the window, an unexpected sight unfolded before her gaze.

    Campeao and Kapitel were trying to keep two creatures with a Mephistopheles-like appearance at bay.

    More than two meters tall, the monsters were protected by thick armor as black as night. They wielded a crinkled sword in one hand, while the other arm was equipped with a shield that covered approximately ? of their imposing physique.

    A helmet decorated with a multitude of sharp thorns covered a face that was falling apart, two slits for eyes emitting a scarlet glow that gave off a thirst for violence that could only be gratified with the clamor of battle.

    Wait, they are¡­

    The half-elf had no difficulty recognizing those nightmare creatures. Too many times her guardian had instilled in her the characteristics and abilities of the most dangerous monsters that populated the planet.

    I''m willing to bet it''s Death Knights.

    Death Knight. Just hearing that name would have chilled even the bravest adventurer''s blood. Bringers of death and doom, they were a bane of realms due to their zombie-making prowess. Their victims became in turn Death Squires, capable in turn of creating other weaker undead from the unfortunate who fell under their blades.

    A disease that spreads without end and without restraint.

    But the danger of those atrocities did not stop at the speed with which they reproduced their infernal offspring.

    Their skills in battle were out of the ordinary. In particular, their almost impenetrable defenses made them a bad obstacle to overcome even for the most experienced group.

    And there were two of these creatures in front of them. And as if that weren''t enough, they weren''t alone.

    An infestation of hounds, vultures, and other undead beasts had surrounded Buvesez and Rosalie, who continued to cast spells to keep them at bay. And as troubles never came by itself, a handful of other spellcasters kept bombarding them with low-middle ranking incantations.

    Two hooded figures, probably the accomplices of his prisoner and commanding officers, had positioned themselves in the rear a few meters away from the Death Knights.

    Those two are probably the ones behind this crap. Ok, let''s do it.

    The ligaments of her body expanded to the extreme, she burst like a meteor into the area where the clash was taking place.

    "What?"

    "What the heck is going on?"

    "Lady Zesshi!"

    "At long last!"

    "Behind me!"

    Campeao and Kapitel retreated behind her, ready in their combat gear. The skirmish hadn''t even lasted for a minute but the wounds they sported showed how arduous it had been. The ranger in particular was bleeding profusely from his right arm due to a cut inflicted by his opponent''s weapon.

    "Be careful Lady Zesshi, don''t let your guard down in front of these monsters."

    The paladin''s warning spread like an echo in her ears. Antilene concentrated all the muscles of her body. She would not allow the undead to twist a single hair of her companions.

    "Go help Buvesez and Rosalie, I''ll take care of it here."

    The half-elf threw the body of the prisoner carelessly into the arms of the paladin, who grabbed him without having yet cleared the situation.

    "But¡­"

    "Go!"

    The order erupted in the incandescent roar of conflict. Kapitel and Campeao began to support the two spellcasters who were keeping the undead host at bay.

    Antilene scrutinized the two cruelties above her. Their hellish breath spread through the air; their stinking smell would have driven even a poor man without a sense of smell to madness.

    "Did they leave a little boy alone? Are they crazy?"

    "It doesn''t matter. The Death Knights are going to get rid of them all regardless of their numbers!"

    The two cultists began to confabulate with each other, giving her very little attention.

    They are underestimating me, thinking they already have victory in hand. Let''s check if their pride is justified!

    The first to move was the opponent on her left. He raised the blade to deliver a forceful blow.

    Antilene''s arm muffled the impact effortlessly.

    Weak.

    The knight, looking at the half-elf with hatred, began to strain his skeletal bones to increase the pressure. The red of its cavities glowed with dazzling intensity. He pushed. And he pushed even harder. But it was completely useless.

    His double moved his shield forward to try to overwhelm her, but Antilene saw the blow coming and, raising Charon''s Guidance, used the central point of the scythe to stop the mad rush.

    Boring.

    "Hey, hey! How does he keep two of those things stuck at the same time?"

    "I don''t know, I don''t know! But he is still now. Let''s not let him breathe!"

    Magical arrows of bones headed towards the half-elf''s armor, crashing into the reinforced chest. A sensation similar to the itch of a mosquito tickled her chest.

    "Hey, it''s rude to interrupt someone who is fighting. Didn''t they teach you good manners when you were little?"

    They continued to storm her with their entire repertoire of spells. Black flames, corrosive acid, rivers of deconsecrated water. Not even a scratch. Even the armor had retained its immaculate whiteness.

    The two executives were left speechless. Their spells had no effect, and to add insult to injury, that miniature soldier kept holding the two Death Knights at bay with mocking nonchalance.

    How is that possible? It makes no sense.

    "Do not worry. In a few seconds, I will pay attention to you too. There is no need to be in a hurry."

    He is a monster.

    Their legs began to emit a slight tremble.

    He is not human.

    A desire to escape started to take shape. To run away. The two men felt there was nothing to be done. It didn''t matter if retiring meant facing their leader''s judgment. The prospect was far better than staying in a losing battle.

    "Let''s finish it here."

    Antilene leaped into the air causing her opponents to lose their balance for a moment, resulting in them wasting a few seconds to try to recover a stable position.

    "Let''s start with the one on the left."

    Charon''s Guidance issued its judgment.

    First shot. A meticulous cut started from the skull up to the right patella, drawing a thin precise string.

    Second shot. The central point of the scythe insinuated itself with military rigor into an uncovered joint of the armor.

    Third shot. No. There was no need for that.

    The surviving Death Knight attempted to sink the serrated sword into her arm. A deadly hook hit him in the ribs, making him fly for a few meters until he crashed into one of the houses in the area.

    He tried to get up. Charon''s Guidance had already severed his head with diabolical professionalism.

    And now let''s go and claim the coveted trophy.

    The two men started running. They dashed and ran, aware that their life was hanging by a thread. They felt the god of death invite them to take part in the sumptuous banquet he had prepared specially to enjoy their company.

    "Who the hell was that?"

    "I don''t know, but we have to notify the boss immediately."

    "Send him a message!"

    "Yeah, yeah. I''m doing it!"

    "How the heck did he destroy them with that scythe? And with extreme ease, too!"

    Death Knights, like all undeads, had an innate resistance to slashing weapon damage. If that little guy had managed to eliminate them without breaking a sweat, it meant that the difference in strength was abysmal, as ridiculous as it seemed to think so.

    "Is he chasing us?"

    "No, I don''t see anyone. Hey! Hey! Gali, Gali! Where are you?"

    Yale looked around in despair. His partner was by his side until a few seconds ago. And now ... and now there was no one.

    "Damn, damn, damn!"

    He resumed his flight. Wasting time was not a viable alternative.

    "Forgive me Gali, Worthington. I can''t die here. Not now."

    Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. I have to escape.

    He was about to reach the exit of the village. Once out of there he could have lost his tracks in the woods that passed up to the fort of Ferrum Castrum. Reunited with Lord Kunivela and the other executives, they could have studied a counterattack. Yes, he could do it. He could do it.

    "Are you going somewhere?"

    He couldn''t do it.

    Before his eyes, a silhouette clad in snow-white armor rested on a small stone elevation on one side of the road. The bright decorations were kissed by the afternoon sunlight, framing his features in a dazzling and majestic aura.

    Now I understand. It is not a monster. It''s an angel. What a fool I have been.

    "Your accomplices are in the hands of my companions. You can give up now if you want. Or, if you prefer, I can use the hard way."

    The Zurrernorn cultist was left with a goofy face, contemplating his options. He actually realized that options was a generous term. There was only one thing left to do.

    "I give up."

    The little knight approached him making small hops. A childish image made even more grotesque when compared with the demonstration of power he had made just a few minutes ago.

    "Splendid! Now come with me. We have a lot to discuss."

    Yale swallowed. For the first time in years, he prayed with all his heart that the Gods would be kind to him.

 Chap 8: Plague

    Cap 8

    PLAGUE

    "Soon! Hurry up! Flee!"

    A Bearman clad in thick silver plate armor bellowed directions to a desperate crowd, as he tried with all his might to stop chaos from spreading through the streets of the capital.

    "Don''t panic. We will protect you with all our might! Come on! Come on!"

    A young man was desperately trying to make his way through the ranks of the infernal crush. His legs were slowed by blisters formed after an exhausting walk that made every small step a feat worthy of being celebrated in the songs of the minstrels. Hesitating and panting, he devoted all the few energies of his body to squeeze through the thick physiques of the demihumans who were thronging the streets of Draton. Shelling like a mollusk, his thoughts were dominated by a single, strong emotion.

    I''m scared! I''m scared! I''m scared!

    A roar of loathing thundered across the firmament with the explosive force of a hundred incandescent suns.

    "Filth of the Dragon Emperor! Filth of the Dragon Emperor! Die! Die! Die!"

    Those who were once the rulers of the world, guardians of power and ancestral knowledge, now had to deal with the newcomers in the food chain. Despite their titanic features, they looked like docile little lambs compared to the eight figures that now besieged the jewel of the dragon empire.

    "There is no time to lose! Go this way!"

    I don''t want to die! I don''t want to die!

    The boy continued to trudge while desperately expanding all his forces to secure a place as far away from that disaster as possible.

    Kaboom!

    An explosion crept into his eardrums like the shattering charge of an army of heavy cavalry.

    A few tens of kilometers from his position, two gigantic corpses had fallen on the splendid buildings that adorned the city center like a shining diamond. What was once a beaming example of glitter and wealth had now given way to crumbling debris.

    The markets, until a few hours before the central scene of social life and culture, carefully guarded the lifeless bodies of the innocents captured in the conflict.

    The guards of the city militia were imposing an iron discipline to make the evacuation as safe as possible, or at least tried to, in the last attempt not to give in to hopelessness. Most of their numbers were currently employed for battle against the invaders.

    An army covered in precious materials and armed with the most modern and priceless equipment in the world. A coalition of all races: trolls, hobgoblins, elves, humans, demihumans, insectoids, dwarfs, heteromorphs, giants, dragons, and countless other species whose number was comparable to the number of grains of sand in the desert. The last defense against a ruthless subjugation that had upset the balance of the planet in just a handful of months.

    After only a few minutes, what stood with honor and pride as the last hope against the invaders was reduced to a hodgepodge of a few survivors, who tried with the last remnants of their strength to recover what could be saved.

    "We''re almost at the eastern gate! One last effort! Courage!"

    A lizardman bellowed words of encouragement to the confused crowd. His breath had taken on the intensity of a brass trumpet.

    A second roar.

    "Oh no!"

    Krash!

    A fire meteor struck a few hundred meters away from their position causing a frightening shock wave. Most of the inhabitants, who until a few moments before had clung to the faint hope of the possibility of escaping from that horror, were now reduced to blackish ash that spread in the atmosphere.

    The boy had barely escaped, using the more imposing bodies of the other desperate men as a shield. Despite this, he had been forcefully thrown tens of meters against what was once a craft shop.

    His body, already normally debilitated from his condition, was a concert of distress. Every fiber of his being begged him to let go and close his eyes, in order to finally be able to grasp that longed-for rest.

    I can''t die now! I can do it; I can do it!

    He got up. Breathing had become a challenge for his lungs. The nauseating stench of scattered corpses entered his nostrils with unwanted force.

    "Coff, coff, coff!"

    An aroma somewhere between rotten eggs and spoiled fish, with a hint of that flatulence reminiscent of cabbage left to rot for more than two months, made him wish he had a blade with which to cut his nose so he could say goodbye to the sense of smell.

    He took a few steps before collapsing to the ground. His eyes met the lifeless gaze of a Foxman knight who watched him in wonder. She seemed to be asking him for what cruel twist of fate it was possible that she had ended up in that terrible status.

    Am I about to end up the same way too? Is this my destiny?

    The boy continued to stare into those dull eyes devoid of any spark for an answer to his inquiries. Anything would have been fine. Even the deafening noise of the crowd, that rumbled along its path until a few minutes ago, had been replaced by an oppressive silence.

    Is the battle already over? I don''t see anyone anymore.

    Kroop!

    A drop of a strange liquid caressed his cheek.

    What the hell is that?

    Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop! Kroop!

    A torrent of something vaguely like water began to descend upon the earth. In the beginning, dripping with minimal intensity and then, with a daring impetus, pouring over him and the surrounding area.

    This is¡­ this is blood!

    He raised his eyes to the sky and saw him: cloaked in a reddish light, similar to that of the sundown. A fencer had gracefully and skillfully impaled the body of one of his foes.

    A dragon covered in jade-colored scales had begun to ooze opaque fluids profusely from its wounded chest. A cry of pain echoed in the celestial vault; combined with what seemed to be vicious and inappropriate laughter, it gave the impression that a capricious deity was making fun of him, mocking him for his struggles.

    Frost covered the soul of the boy, who gathered his last ounce of strength to avoid that excruciating cascade of suffering.

    The aggressor used the dragon''s body as a table for his diabolical experiments, to satisfy his reprobate curiosity: internal organs and body parts began to be scattered randomly around the town, just like a child unwillingly gets rid of a plaything that by now he''s fed up with.

    Veins and blood vessels decorated the neighborhood with a glowing red that had begun to take on the shine of a sparkling ruby.

    A remnant of a colossal paw nearly reduced it to a shapeless lump of jelly. The misshapen and incomplete image of what was once part of a coherent whole, joined by the river of viscera that accompanied it, revolted him beyond belief.

    Despite his resistance, he had to stop for a moment to vomit.

    How disgusting! I cannot handle it anymore! I cannot handle it anymore!

    The boy felt he had reached his limit. Nothing mattered anymore. Yeah. Oblivion didn''t seem so bad now. At least he wouldn''t suffer anymore. At least he would stop being scared and his tribulations would finally end.

    Yes, it''s perfect like this! I''m so tired!

    "Boy, you''re still alive! Incredible! It''s a miracle!"

    An unknown voice brought him back to reality. A man cloaked in a white coat was standing next to him, listening to his pulse.

    "Can you walk? No, I guess not. Wait, I''ll spread a healing potion on you to restore some of your lost vitality."

    A greenish light covered his body making him regain his stamina little by little. He felt invigorated, even if in part he still had an unpleasant feeling of debilitation that persistently endured in his bones.

    "We have to get away from here quickly. Come on, come with me!"

    The stranger led him in a different direction than they had been heading before.

    "Wait, where are we going? I thought the east gate was the safest way out."

    "It was completely razed to the ground! One of the invaders hurled a handful of ice giants into that area. It''s all completely blocked by their dead bodies."

    "And where are we going, then? I thought the tusk district had been overrun by enemy armies. Those horrifying golems were bringing death to every man, woman, and child they could spot."

    "A few kilometers from here there is an underground underpass that hasn''t been used for many years. It''s not very safe but right now it''s our only chance of salvation. Careful!"

    A flame awoke a few steps from the street they had taken. Fiery sparks began to explode violently as the air became increasingly thin.

    "Damn! OK, let''s go. We will have to deviate for a few minutes but there is no other solution. Try to keep up. I know it''s hard but don''t panic. We can do it!"

    The pair began to sneak into one of the narrowest alleys, with barely enough room to walk freely.

    "Who are you? And why did you help me?"

    Talking in this situation was far from the savviest thing to do. But it was the only way to avoid thinking about the cries of misery and anguish that echoed through the streets with a disturbing naturalness.

    "My name is Kunivela. I was a medic caring for troops wounded in battle."

    "And why are you here now, shouldn''t you be assisting the soldiers who are fighting?"

    "Fighting? My boy, the fight, if it can be called a fight, lasted a few minutes at most. Not only are those eight kings so strong that they can afford to play tag with a Dragon Lord without breaking a sweat. But their subordinates are also beasts of the worst kind.

    Do you know how large our army was? Two hundred thousand heavy infantry, one hundred and fifty thousand armored horsemen, plus another hundred thousand including members of races that could not be assigned to a specific division such as bug riders, thunder giants, or bloody manticores.

    All with years of experience in the empire, all equipped with the best weapons and magical items. Do you know how long they lasted? A couple of minutes after the start of the battle ninety percent of the army had been annihilated, the remainder either fled or lined up alongside the dragon lords for a last, frantic attempt. But I''m convinced it''s only a matter of minutes before this metropolis is burned to ashes. We had no hope from the start. We should have given up."

    Give up. They both knew that the old rulers would never agree to lick the boots of new majesties. Since the old emperor had died, and the prince had decided to abandon his kingdom and his position, the realm had undergone a slow and progressive decline. The remaining Dragon Lords had clung to a stale idea of greatness that was destined, inexorably, to wither.

    If when the war began, they had all decided to work together to concentrate on a single attack, perhaps things could have gone differently. But, in their egotism, they had thought it impossible that there could ever be beings capable of challenging their dominance. Until their numbers dwindled, little by little, while their rivals were still at full strength.

    And now it was up to them to pay the price for their pride.

    "How much¡­ how much further is it? I feel my legs starting to give out again!"

    "Not much yet. See that structure over there?" Kunivela said, pointing to a half-destroyed building in the distance. "It''s the city''s water station. We will use it to descend into the sewers and reach the tunnel we are looking for. And¡­ what the fuck is that?"

    An insect-like aberration darted through the skies of the capital: its impressive size was made even more frightening by the incalculable number of slimy legs that moved with ramshackle movements on the sides of its body. Its eyes glowed a deep cobalt blue, glistening with a blinding light while its carapace was coated in an oily substance, dripping an unknown, stinking fluid.

    In his hands, he held a stick made entirely of bone decorated at the tip with a human cranium.

    Stopping in a plaza where some confused survivors had gathered, he stuck his creepy cane into the ground: a swarm of locusts, beetles, moths, flies, and other insects began to spread among what would soon become their meal.

    The unfortunate didn''t even have time to process what was happening, before seeing their flesh slowly devoured to the bone by that pestilential horde. They didn''t suffer, at least not too much, as they were quickly consumed by those little creatures. Their remains seemed to have finally found serenity.

    "Enough, enough, enough! I cannot handle it anymore! Maybe we''ll have to kill ourselves before some other hellish being captures us"

    Slap.

    "Don''t be silly, if we keep going down these back paths, we''ll be able to avoid it. This is not the time to let yourself get down!"

    "How can you be so optimistic? Can''t you see that everyone is dying?"

    "If I weren''t as optimistic as you say, I would have no hope of surviving. Now, if you want to come with me, fine. Otherwise, I can very well continue alone."

    The boy realized he had no other choice, and resumed his frantic run together with the medic.

    "Here we are. See? We almost made it."

    After a few minutes that had seemed endless, the two had reached the doors of the hydraulic station. Little was left of the upper part of the building, but the door was miraculously still intact.

    "Come on, help me push!"

    With a bit of effort, they managed to throw open the door and enter the main hall.

    "Okay, if we move to the right, we should find the entrance!"

    By now they had almost made it, they nearly found access to the sewers without problems when¡­

    Boom!

    Another explosion.

    A girder from the station collapsed on top of them.

    Kunivela found his companion''s lower body completely crushed by the piece of refined timber.

    The boy tried to pull him out of there, but his strength was insufficient to save him. He tried and tried again, but to no avail.

    "Everything will collapse here soon. Go on without me! You will find the tunnel after walking about five hundred meters. Good luck! Make sure you do it!"

    "But¡­"

    "Go!"

    Without looking back, he descended the iron stairs that led to the underground channels.

    Sorrow for abandoning his benefactor began to consume him, but he could not find a viable solution to get him out of that bad situation without risking ending up crushed too.

    Compared to those on the surface, the smells of garbage and waste seemed almost a relief. The echoes of the battle were muffled by the marble-brick division of the sewer; although not completely gone, the boy''s hearing could finally have a moment of relief.

    The dirty water from the sewers reached below his knees; normally he would have been disgusted by it, but now he was totally indifferent to it.

    That must be the tunnel I was looking for.

    After a few hundred paces a small cave dug into the gravel rose into view.

    It was barely wide enough for a person of average height like him, so he decided to crawl across it on his legs to move more easily.

    He lost count of the time it took him to get out of there. Step by step he felt more and more terrified that everything would collapse on him at any instant.

    He came out on a small abandoned field, not far from the base of a knoll.

    Searching for a waypoint to pinpoint his current location, the boy came across a small hill. After having climbed most of it, he was able to observe the city of Draton. Or what remained of it.

    What was once the nidus of civilization, home to more than ten million people, now looked like an old abandoned ruin whose ravages had covered what was once a glittering majesty.

    The passage of time had left its mark in a fraction of what it normally would have taken.

    A coincidence, nothing more, nothing less. That''s the only reason I saved myself while everyone else perished.

    As he got as far away from that place as possible, only one thought rumbled in his head.

    I will not die. I will defeat death and surpass the gods. Never again will I be a frightened lamb like today. Never again!

    The Dragon''s Empire came to an end.

    A new dawn rose on the horizon.

    Lower Wind Month, 8th day, 17.00

    "So, what do we do with these captives?"

    In all, Antilene and her group had captured twenty cultists, three of whom had been identified as superiors of the organization. Of these three, only one was still conscious at the time and able to answer their questions.

    "I sent a message to the nearest city guard. They''ll be here in a couple of hours with a support troop to pick up these fanatics. Then the inquisitors will take care of extorting all the information we need from them." Buvesez reported as he continued to tie up some of the still-stunned bodies.

    "We cannot afford to wait that long. Knowing their accomplices are at the fort we absolutely cannot let them escape." Kapitel continued to pass a healing potion on his wounded arm. Even if the blood had stopped flowing and the pain was almost completely gone, he still felt a stiffness in his muscles due to the cut received by the Death Knight.

    "For now, let''s get all the information we can from this still-awake executive." Antilene pointed to poor Yale, who in response began to take on a yellowish tint. "Once we have more clarity on the situation, we will be able to establish how to proceed."

    "Ok, bald head. Are you going to cooperate or should we use more persuasive arguments?" Campeao aimed her sword at the neck of the cultist of Zurrernorn who stood for a moment puzzled to determine what was the most prudent action move to make.

    But as the half-elf approached him, all his machinations were replaced by a more serene resignation.

    "I''ll talk, I''ll talk! Tell me what you want to know."

    "Good," Rosalie said as she inspected the confiscated equipment. "Why don''t you start by explaining what kind of magic you used to turn so many people undead? I don''t think you bothered killing them one by one and then using their bodies as summoning materials."

    "It wasn''t us. When we arrived in this bad place all the inhabitants of the place were already reduced to that condition. We just controlled them with domination spells."

    "So, you''re saying that you just took advantage of a situation caused by someone else?" Antilene asked. The possibility that there was another mastermind behind that matter further complicated things. As if they weren''t already having a headache at the moment.

    "Yup. That''s it! The only people we killed were those troopers from the rescue team. I swear!"

    "And rest assured that you will pay for that crime!" Kapitel was starting to lose his temper at the absurdity of the situation, but kept his composure to avoid cutting into what he considered human crap.

    "But if all this isn''t your doing," he continued, "then whose is it? You don''t want to tell me that you just happened to be in these areas by coincidence."

    "That''s what we''re trying to find out," Yale replied. "Our leader received a report of strange happenings from one of our infiltrators a few weeks ago. He rounded up all the executives available at the moment and brought us here."

    "What caught his attention so much? What is it in particular that he hopes to accomplish?" Buvesez questioned him in a flat, calm tone of voice.

    "I can''t tell you that."

    "Did you suddenly become brave? If you think we''re just going to kill you, you''re very wrong. We''re spoiled for choice to find the perfect way to make you spit it out!" The paladin''s blade began to tickle his neck, while Campeao''s expression took on a mocking and self-confident air.

    "No, I meant no disrespect. When I say I can''t tell you, it''s because I''m really unable to. Each higher-ranking member of the cult is imprinted with magic programmed to activate if they share sensitive information with strangers. The moment I start apprising you of everything I know, my head will explode like a firework. I assure you, it would not be a good show."

    "What do you say Buvesez, Rosalie? Do you think he''s conveying the truth?"

    "Um. We also use similar spells to protect our operatives'' valuable data." The divine caster mused aloud.

    "However," Rosalie interjected, "we also can''t discount the possibility that it''s just a well-crafted lie to buy time."

    "Are you lying to us? Or can we trust you?" Antilene scrutinized the necromancer with her heterochromatic gazes.

    Yale began to sweat even more profusely: now reduced to a pool of shame, even more bodily juice begged to be expelled.

    "Nono, my lady. May the gods strike me now if I dare deceive you."

    "I believe him. He should know by now that they have no hope against me. And my Inquisitor skills make me aware when a non-believer tries to deceive me. I doubt he''s a staunch follower of the 6 Great Gods, am I right?"

    She gave the man a sweet smile to make him feel at ease, but their prisoner began to fidget even more flamboyantly, unashamed of the pitiful show he was performing.

    "Yes, my lady! Absolutely, my lady! I am only your humble slave, ready to do anything to fulfill your wishes. If I could take off these fictitious chains that prevent me from uttering a word, I would do it immediately to satisfy your requests. Just don''t hurt me, please!"

    I show them some kindness and it seems I''m taking them to the gallows for execution. Bah, at least the results come anyway.

    "Is it feasible to remove this spell now, anyway?"

    "Hmm, for sure I could try. But it will still be a few hours before I figure out how it works, and neutralizing it will take even longer."

    Buvesez shrugged in defeat. If they wanted to strike Zurrernorn in the heart, they didn''t have to waste even the slightest moment.

    "In short, we have nothing in our hands. What a bothersome situation! If we depart now, we may be at the fort before dark, but the question remains of what to do with these men we have captured."

    "While reinforcements are arriving, we certainly can''t leave them here alone."

    "I have an idea!" exclaimed the half-elf. "We break their arms and legs so they can''t move."

    "It''s an alternative that could work, but we always run the risk that they have some means of healing themselves even if they are immobilized."

    "Leave it to me. I can cast a spell that will keep them asleep for at least half a day. I doubt they have any suitable countermeasures to dispel it, given their magical items and capabilities."

    Rosalie''s proposal was judged the most prudent, though obviously not risk-free. Nevertheless, the possibility of being able to eliminate the leader of the death cult took precedence over the small fish that could provide them with very little information.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Before finishing her preparations, Antilene spoke one last time to the man she had captured.

    "Tell me, who do you think is stronger between me and your boss? I don''t think a vague answer like this can trigger that magic."

    Yale brooded for a few moments, as he analyzed the battle capabilities of his interlocutor and of the master who had taught him everything.

    "You are strong. Stronger than any human I''ve ever seen in my life. But my lord is not amenable to the common dictates of reason. His magical abilities surpass common sense. His expertise has been honed by centuries of hard discipline and relentless practice. If you manage to give him a scratch, you could be counted as one of the greatest heroes humankind has ever seen. No, I don''t think you could beat him. My advice is to withdraw now while there is still time before being wiped out."

    "Oh, you could have taken advantage of that to get me to attack blindly. Instead, you decided to give me honest advice. Why?"

    It was a common strategy to lure the enemy into a false sense of security before they were aware of the gap in strength, to trap them in a web from which they could not extricate themselves.

    Yet his warning seemed genuine to me. Is there something else he is hiding? Or perhaps he doesn''t want to admit to himself that there is anyone capable of defeating his adored object of devotion?

    Faced with a truth that was too hard to accept, it was natural for human beings to lie to themselves and try to rationalize something they would have considered impossible just a few hours ago.

    A surefire way to keep your sanity firmly in place. It was a mechanism the half-elf had seen more than once during her training sessions with the new Black Scripture recruits.

    "Now that I have failed to kill you, there is no chance left for me and the others to return to the ranks of the organization. Zurrernorn does not give second chances. I know I don''t want to end up mangled to be part of horrendous experiments concerning human flesh, so I have no choice but to entrust myself to you. As undesirable as that is to me."

    Oh, so this guy really thinks his leader is stronger than me? Interesting! I can''t let my guard down, but maybe finally I can have some fun too!

    A gleeful grin crept across her face.

    Yale thought in his heart that perhaps the outcome was not as obvious as he believed, after all.

    The sun''s rays began to withdraw after the hard work of the day, while the darkness of the night began to peep over the fortress of Ferrum Castro.

    Built entirely of beaten rock, some tier 3 enchantments had been applied to reinforce its foundations and ensure its solidity.

    The walls had internal and external pomerium. It was a flat strip of land just inside or outside the walls. The external pomerium, clear of bushes and houses, offered the defenders an unobstructed view of what was happening outside. An internal pomerium guaranteed quick access to the curtain wall, facilitating movement by the garrison.

    Equipped with two circles of fortifications with curtains, bulwarks, moat, and ravelins to protect the three entrance gates to the city, it was conceived above all as a war machine: the number of bastions and the length of the sides was established based on the range of the spells most common of the time.

    The circular shape was kept inside a small miniature town, equipped with all the structures and equipment necessary to guarantee its defenders a life as comfortable as possible.

    A group of four was shrouded in the shade of a forest a few miles away. They were impatiently awaiting the return of their scout comrade to evaluate what might be the best strategy to begin their assault.

    "Here he comes!" Campeao said, pointing her finger to a figure that was becoming clearer on the horizon.

    "Do you bring good news?" Buvesez didn''t even wait for the ranger to settle down to start asking him what everyone was eagerly waiting for.

    "I would like to say yes," Kapitel began, "but unfortunately the reality is not so helpful. First, I don''t think scaling one of those walls should be a problem for anyone here. So, we can at least sneak into the first circle without too much trouble. But the issues come now. First, I spotted several magical traps ready to spring at our slightest movement, and it wouldn''t surprise me if my [Detector] skill skipped a few."

    "So, there isn''t even a point on which we can rely to be able to go back without problems?"

    "No, I found some uncovered areas. But now comes the challenging part. They positioned some men to stand guard, as was to be expected. By themselves, it wouldn''t be much of a concern. But it seems incredible to me to say, they also have elder liches at their disposal. An elementary, but effective trap. If we want to catch them by surprise, we will have to be able to annihilate them all at once without giving them time to alert the others."

    "It doesn''t surprise me that they also have creatures like that. After all, if they had two Death Knights in their ranks, we should expect any kind of undead lurking in the shadows."

    Rosalie tried to keep as calm as possible, but a bead of sweat that began to roll down the right side of her forehead revealed what her true feelings were.

    "Anyway," she continued, "how many of them did you count in all?"

    "Six."

    "Kill six elder liches simultaneously with one hit. Nothing easier!" Campeao clamored. No, it wasn''t at all. Not under normal conditions, at least.

    "I don''t think there should be any big troubles for me. Let me handle it!" Antilene stepped forward. Hers was not pride. If she had dispatched two Death Knights effortlessly, the elder liches in front were nothing more than just tiny chicks waiting to be devoured by the cunning fox.

    "I do not doubt that a single elder lich is at best a speck of dust waiting to be nonchalantly swept up for you, Lady Zesshi. The problem is that they are scattered in different locations and we don''t have enough firepower to complete the objective. Personally, undead are the toughest opponents for my aptitudes and I''m sure I can''t take one down with a single blow."

    "As for me" the paladin interjected "I could use my skill [Holy Sword] in combination with some martial arts. If Buvesez grants me some buffs I think I have a good chance of making it. Unlike you, Kapitel, I am the best person suited to fight the undead."

    "Should not be a problem. As for Rosalie and I, if we join forces in one instantaneous attack, perhaps we can take out another."

    "There are still three left to account for plus the other human sentinels. I hate to admit it, but we must necessarily wait for reinforcements."

    "No, there won''t be a need."

    The members of the Black Scriptures looked at the half-elf questioningly. As exceptional as she was, even she couldn''t be in multiple places at once.

    "You see. They expect an attack by a group of five. That''s why they left some spots uncovered. They want to force us to divide ourselves and then attack us individually like trapped rats. Probably more of their followers and other summons are waiting, lingering for the right moment to overwhelm us with numbers. But there''s something they can''t even imagine."

    "What, Lady Zesshi?" the ranger asked her.

    "That we are not five. We are ten!"

    "What¡­?"

    Swish.

    The elder lich didn''t even have time to start the slightest reaction, that he found himself mown down by the half-elf''s scythe.

    Now! Go my creatures!

    A cloud of pitch-black smoke began to materialize from her weapon, five skeletal soldiers covered in a cuirass breaker, a kilt-like under guard, and a helmet featuring an extended neck roll and frontal bolster were waiting for her orders. They wielded long iron javelins and carried small Argive shields of reinforced metal. The summons used by the God of Death: the Spartiate.

    Let''s see what it feels like when you turn on your beloved undead.

    "Lady Zesshi, we are all in position. Can we start?"

    "Yes, Rosalie. Let''s show them what occurs to those who go against the Slaine Theocracy!"

    The girl divided her followers into two groups: one of three and the other of two, and then spread them in opposite directions.

    She headed for her second target, fast as the wind. A precise cut. Four were missing.

    Campeao activated the martial arts [Ability Boost] [Greater Ability Boost] [Capacity Building]. Her body, invigorated by the energy discharge, was enveloped in dazzling light as she activated her magic [Holy Sword]. A ray of light covered the big sword, and a couple of slashes broke through the elder lich''s defenses, reducing him to dust. Three were missing.

    Rosalie closed the head of another enemy in a bubble of ice, while the rarefied air spread through his body, lowering his defenses. Buvesez used three magical arrows imbued with sacred energy to pierce the undead like a skewer. Two were missing.

    The three Spartiates pounced on one of their kind. Using their blunt shields they overwhelmed him with such violence that he crumbled like plasterboard without having the slightest prospect of preparing a counterattack. Only one remained.

    Kapitel stabbed two guards with a few of his stilettos while he threw a third at another guard a few feet away from him, piercing his throat through and through. The two remaining Spartiates had caught up with the last remaining cultists perched in the south wall, whom they easily dispatched by skewering them with mechanical ruthlessness using the tips of their spears.

    Antilene used all her strength to not lose even a second. The eye of a normal man would not even have perceived her dash. The sight of an individual who entered the realm of heroes would only glimpse a mirage, mistaking it for a hallucination. An outlier would have had to use all of his skills just to catch a glimpse of a moving shadow.

    The lich had just begun to notice something strange, when a punch of frightening power struck him full on the chest, throwing him tens of meters away from the moat that surrounded the fortress. His bones strewn about like trifles.

    It''s done. Now, we can get the dance started. Surshana, guide my hand as I do your bidding!

    The moon had made its appearance in the sky. The stars were preparing to share their warmth. And death, death was about to start its performance. The theater was open, the macabre skit could start.

    "What the hell¡­?"

    "And what in God''s name are those?"

    The members of Zurrernorn were ready. They knew that the Theocracy soldiers would reach shortly. They comprehended they would have to fight some of the most capable fighters in the entire nation.

    Displayed into formation, the remaining skeletal soldiers guarded the ranks of the enchanters. A few lower-class summonses were ready to shield their masters. Some of them were stationed in the buildings inside the fort, ready to trap the attackers.

    Nothing could have taken them by surprise.

    "I''ve never seen beings like that!"

    "It doesn''t matter, hit them with everything at your disposal!"

    What they didn''t imagine, what they could never have guessed in their wildest dreams, was that not only them could control undead.

    Destiny works in mysterious ways. Endowed with grotesque humor, it often makes fun of men and their ambitions. Necromancers who had trampled life in search of a method to check its demise, now found themselves footing the account for their wickedness.

    "Nothing! Nothing seems to work!"

    "Oh Gods, they''re coming here. Someone blocks them!"

    Before the explosive power of the Spartiates, the summons of the cultists looked like defenseless children who, thrown into the battle for the first time, had no alternative but to attempt a desperate stronghold.

    The sweeps of the pikes hoarded victims; the plunder collected was abundant.

    Corrosive acid-coated arrows, fireballs, and lightning bolts barely made a dent in their defenses.

    Two men were skewered.

    And then a third, then a fourth.

    Their ranks began to dwindle at an unceasing rate.

    Another victim. Another body.

    The survivors began to scatter, there was no point in continuing to resist when the hopes of survival were so slim.

    A soft breath. A moan nipped in the bud.

    The Spartiates had begun their hunt, determined not to leave a single survivor.

    Another corpse. Too many to count.

    Red had commenced painting the streets of the small town; a picture of horror was sketched with expert brushstrokes.

    Etysh deflected a fatal thrust by invoking a crystal shield. However, the spear retained enough power to pierce her left side. The wound began to throb, and the senses started to depart her. The pain was unbearable and her psyche was on the verge of giving out.

    What are these abominations? In years of study, I have never found the slightest trace of their existence.

    Through ages of painful research, scouring dusty, abandoned libraries, and experimenting on helpless victims, she hadn''t even touched upon the existence of the creatures that now stood like titans before her.

    Each of them is comparable in strength to a Death Knight. And there are as many as five. It does not make sense. It doesn''t make any sense!

    Her opponent readied a second strike, this time she would not be able to reposition its trajectory. The woman felt the end coming, the chariot for the afterlife had prepared the mounts to take her to her new mansion.

    [Skeleton Wall.] A barrier made of bones rose from the ground, dampening the shaft''s power and speed. The woman narrowly avoided the beast''s onslaught.

    "We can''t stay here, Etysh. We have to escape as soon as possible!"

    Radest was short of breath with exhaustion, his right eye had been closed by a large cut across a large portion of his countenance. The wound was still fresh, and even the most casual observer would have realized that it caused him searing discomfort.

    Biskek was at his side, also not in the best of shape. His arm was completely crumbled, while he respired heavily. That he was able to stand was proof of his abnormal physical abilities.

    The Spartiate stood confused for a moment, pondering who his next target, his next victim, should be. Moving his body in an unnatural, almost grotesque way, he raised his weapon to the sky to bring it down on Radest''s helpless body.

    Biskek saved him at the last moment by throwing himself headlong on his companion. They both tumbled to the ground a few feet away as the spear drove hard into the ground.

    "[Acid fog!]" Etysh summoned a mass of similar mystical vapor that would reduce the undead''s speed and mobility.

    "Soon. That won''t retain him much longer!"

    She helped her two companions to their feet and then runned with them toward one of the porticoes of the stronghold. They had spent so much time in that place, that by now she was sure she would be able to walk those avenues even with her eyes closed.

    "Where are Zmarl and the boss?"

    "Zmarl, I don''t have the faintest idea. The chief remained at the central tower. He said he still had one more thing to do."

    Radest spoke with hardship, his words punctuated by continuous interruptions to catch his whiff.

    "Alone?"

    "He has his personal guards with him. Don''t worry, it''s safe. No one can compete with him." Biskek replied. His dangling arm kept rocking back and forth in a motion that, in another situation, would have been a source of hearty laughter.

    "I don''t know if you noticed, but they have summoned five undead warriors that we, the most expert necromancers in this part of the continent, have never seen before today. And they are playing with our men as the Bafolk play with the Armats. Plus, they took down two Death Knights just a few hours ago. If you allow me, I''m really worried!"

    It was so frustrating. Her innermost fears had turned into reality. Never like that once in her life she wished she was mistaken.

    Biskek didn''t know how to reply to her; perhaps he too was starting to be aware of the desperate situation.

    "You were right Etysh, we shouldn''t have stayed so long defying our fate. We have been blinded by the thirst for knowledge, and now we pay the price for our egotism."

    Seeing Radest agreeing with her didn''t have the effect she''d expected. Shortly before the assault began, the boss had told them that his theory was now complete and only needed to be put into practice. He had given them one last chance to escape, but they had not accepted it.

    Why had she been so foolish to not accept it?

    "Now it is useless to commiserate. Look, we almost made it!"

    Safety was near, the gate was in sight. Just a few more steps¡­ just a few more steps.

    Swish.

    A spear of ice caressed her neck, and a trickle of blood began to flow. A second early, and her throat would have been pierced.

    "Who is?"

    "Did you really think we hadn''t noticed your pathetic escape? Honestly, I was hoping you''d give us more credit. Such a pity."

    A woman with long red hair clad in an extravagant black robe trimmed with violet motifs stood in front of them. Four small ghostly flames burned brightly behind her as she held a staff of fine wood.

    "Curse."

    Biskek charged with all his strength. The distance between them wasn''t particularly large and, for a monk like him, a close fight would have proved favorable against what, at first glance, seemed to all intents and purposes a magic caster. "[Iron Skin]" The still functional arm acquired a density equal to that of steel.

    But the woman didn''t even have to take a step to avoid the punch that was about to be landed on her.

    "Aaaarhg!"

    Before he could realize what had happened, the executive''s hand was severed cleanly from the rest of his body.

    A man with his hair worn in a funny helmet had come out of nowhere and, after cutting his companion''s body thanks to refined mastery with a short sword with a slight curvature of leaf, had immobilized Biskek by pointing the blade at his chest, in the position of the heart.

    "Haven''t you realized yet that you have no choice but to surrender?"

    His tone was cold and detached, totally devoid of any hesitation. Had they made a single false move, their numbers would have dwindled inexorably.

    "Rosalie, Kapitel. Don''t be so abrupt. Let''s try to resolve things peacefully."

    "I don''t think it''s possible to talk calmly and politely with these fanatics. We''ll have to kill them without giving them time to pull off any nasty tricks."

    Behind them were two other appearances. A man in a sumptuous green dress and a woman carrying an exaggeratedly oversized sword.

    What to do? I have barely any mana left to cast any spells and Radest can hardly stand anymore.

    Each of them, taken individually, would have been a tough opponent even if they were both at their full strength. Outnumbered and in their condition, it was not even conceivable to try an offensive.

    She could only hope that their leader would remember them and come save them, or just surrender.

    I''d say hoping for the first option is completely out of whack. But if we give up and then Lord Kunivela catches us¡­ we are in checkmate.

    "Even if we wanted to give up, then our boss wouldn''t take it so gladly. I prefer a quick death to be used as a test subject."

    "You needn''t worry about that." Said the man who had invited her to surrender. "Your beloved leader won''t be in this world much longer."

    "Impossible."

    "Oh, yes?" The red-haired woman wore a smug expression, full of herself. What gave her so much confidence? "Then let me show you something very interesting. Come with us!"

    They made her go up one of the barriers so that she could have a peripheral view of the center of the fortress.

    What the woman saw left her speechless.

    So this is what it feels like on a battlefield.

    Antilene paced with unnatural calm as her infernal soldiers wreaked havoc on the enemy ranks.

    The girl had lost count of the number of times she had imagined in her mind what it would feel like to fight in the front row, facing the enemy with the head held high.

    Fear? Courage? Despair?

    When she thought back to the emotions she had read in the old swashbuckling tales, which she had listened to with transport and emotion from the lips of soldiers of her escort, the half-elf could not help but remember with what passion, with what strength, they had remained imprinted on her mind and soul.

    And now she was here, with the opportunity to experience them firsthand.

    But very few things manage to be as disappointing as reality.

    Antilene was not in a feverish state of excitement as she claimed the blood of her opponents, letting the thirst for battle be fulfilled.

    Neither the melancholy nor the sadness for the loss of all those lives assailed her with a ruthless coldness. How many had she seen abhor conflict after they had tasted its sour fruits?

    And yet¡­ and yet she felt none of this.

    Was it pragmatism of hers? So focused on the mission that she managed to completely leave every trace of the slightest emotion from her body?

    Had she achieved the composure necessary to be the perfect war machine?

    After all, it was what the girl had always wanted. The purpose she was born for, the purpose she trained for. Her duty, her mission.

    Those who were born blessed by the Gods bore grave responsibilities and significant importance. And she¡­she had abode them.

    The half-elf saw a Spartiate grab the head of a cultist who had taken cover behind a spiked wooden fence, his knees trembling, his hands foolishly trying to free himself from the grip.

    His head crumbled with disheartening ease. Was it enough to kill a man?

    Puff. I have no time to lose. Time to get to the boss before he can escape.

    At the center of the settlement, there was a tower with an octagonal base built largely of beaten rock.

    If she had to bet, the girl was sure she would find her target there.

    "Lady Zesshi. Are you sure you want to go alone? We don''t know what the enemy is capable of."

    Rosalie''s message rang in her head with particular apprehension. The concern shown by the older - or younger? - woman made her strangely happy.

    "If the enemy can control two Death Knights, their capabilities will far exceed yours. Let''s proceed as agreed and be careful not to let the other executives escape."

    "Roger that! But remember you have a scroll available to contact us in case you need it. If things get complicated, don''t hesitate to use us to save your life."

    Communication stopped.

    The half-elf stretched her muscles. Buvesez had applied some buffs for maximizing her attacks and defense, before splitting up. She felt her body crackling with energy. She was ready.

    Arriving at the foot of the tower, she found herself before a welcoming committee more numerous than her imagination could ever have contemplated.

    I didn''t expect so many of them¡­

    Flanking on either side, four mighty undead knights stood proudly upright. They emanated an air of mortal danger, radiant as the sun. Their chests were covered in thick plate armor as black as obsidian. The swords carefully stowed at their sides were waiting feebly to be drawn.

    Death Cavalier. A race of Undead comparable to the Death Knights, and just as legendary.

    Behind them lurked just as many elder liches, but unlike the ones they''d scythed down moments earlier, these exuded a ghostly, evil aura. The pressure they exerted was completely unlike any opponent the girl had ever faced before, except for the other Godkins and Rufus.

    The grim reaper seemed like a close companion to them, ready to encourage his peers like a loving mother. The enchanted ornaments they wore, at a glance, were a far cry from the ordinary trinkets most enchanters carried as their gear.

    But the most disturbing existence was beyond any doubt the one waiting for her in the middle of that gloomy crowd.

    At first, he might have appeared like any other elder lich, but Antilene knew there was something distinguishable about him.

    His upper body was clad in an armor of the purest adamantium, with sharp spikes protruding from his shoulders like sharp harpoons.

    The lower part was wrapped in a fine tunic patterned in gold and scarlet, with some spots decorated with a few circular patterns of a pale white, reminiscent of the color of her hair.

    The empty eye sockets burned with hellish flames, which continued to emit incandescent heat.

    Above his head floated five ancient tomes whose pages persisted to turn without pause; a silver coronet framed his face giving it an aura of solemnity and royalty.

    A Night Lich.

    Beings composed of the same substance that nightmares are made of, legendary creatures whose presence was whispered in awe even among the wisest of men. Their existence was shrouded in legends and reveries, born from the sick mind of a madman.

    Even the Theocracy had little information about them, their existence no more than a footnote recorded in Slaine''s history archives.

    "I was waiting for you, young champion of the gods. Let me give you my warm welcome. My name is Kunivela and I am the guide of these humble seekers of truth."

    His tone was controlled and unrestricted from malice. His praises seemed to conceal no bile or ulterior motives.

    His followers bowed to her in greeting, showing the half-elf the same regard they would have shown their master.

    "What do you want?"

    "There is no need to be so wary. I respect you as if you were my equal, don''t you think it''s polite to do the same?"

    "I apologize." Antilene returned the curtsy shown with a slight nod of her head. "Tell me, why all these useless ceremonies? I thought you wanted to start the fight as soon as possible, given all the little friends you called to help you."

    "I have seen your deeds against my puppies. Don''t worry, I don''t hold a grudge. It is completely natural to get rid of insects in your path. I have now lost count of how many times I have had to resort to unpleasant measures. No, what I want is you. Join me, it is such a thankless and time-consuming task to find suitable subordinates for my needs. I haven''t seen a talent like yours in a hundred, no, maybe two hundred, yes two hundred, years."

    The girl was shocked for a second, convinced that he was jesting, that he was making fun of her. Instead, the undead continued to observe her earnestly, waiting for an answer.

    "Before I join you, explain to me why you are doing all this. Our prisoners have not been loose-mouthed."

    "Yes, I understand. An adequate precautionary measure. Please forgive my rudeness, but it is not sensible to let one''s personal affairs fall into not entirely trusted hands. Why am I doing this? It''s very simple, actually. I want to lead all living beings to a new path. Free of suffering and pain. A route where death will no longer be able to scare us with its threats. You may be wondering how that is possible."

    "How smart, you had to be the best in your class!"

    "I will not pick up on your childish instigations. Let me explain. About one hundred and fifty years ago, some kingdoms far, far away from this part of the continent were struck by a strange phenomenon that turned all the poor inhabitants undead. I''m sure it reminds you of something."

    "That''s what happened here."

    "Exactly. I have dubbed this event the death spiral. When the negative energy accumulates within a certain limit, more and more powerful undead begin to appear, which in turn produce more negative energy that will give life to other even stronger beings, in a continuous rotation. I will use the unleashed force to ascend to a plane different from that of mere mortals. I have not yet been able to establish whether it is a natural or man-made phenomenon. That''s why I want to try to recreate it with my own hands. And you, Scripture of the Theocracy, have given me the right opportunity on a silver platter."

    "That''s why you haven''t prepared any retreat! You intend to use your followers as a sacrifice!"

    Antilene felt an uncomfortable feeling of disgust. She bore no sympathy for the members of that nefarious organization, but that they were just disposable items for the Night Lich irritated her tremendously. Using someone solely for one''s ends, with no respect for their aspirations and life, was as deplorable as few other things in the world.

    "Sacrifices? I think there was an incomprehension. Let me explain more distinctly. I''ve given anyone who wanted to take cover and escape the chance to do it. In addition, using my disciples as raw material, if we want to use an improper term, is a gesture of good faith towards you. To show that I have no interest in harming the citizens of your country."

    "How kind, I''m almost moved!"

    He completely ignored her answer, continuing his oration with the same imperturbability as before.

    "But none of them accepted. Can you imagine why? I''ll disclose it to you. It is because every single affiliate of Zurrernorn is convinced of our revolutionary project. They realize the impact our work will have on everyone''s future. Not only men but also demihumans, heteromorphs, and even dragons.

    When the ceremony is complete, I will be able to ascend to the level of the Creators and to heights of wizardry that no one had ever remotely approached. With absolute control over life and death in my hands, a new world order will be shaped. Join me, and I will bring back whoever you want, without the ridiculous limitations that today''s magic allows. I bet that, like everyone else, you too have someone dear that you want to embrace again. I will make it attainable!"

    Whoever. Also¡­

    "What if this ritual you proclaim so much fails? What will happen then?"

    "On this off chance, I''ll simply formulate a new hypothesis and attempt again. The researcher''s life is made up of innumerable attempts that follow one another without ceasing. Unfortunately, not all of them are thriving. But the highway to knowledge is paved with failure, my dear. A lesson I learned the hard way."

    "... I understand."

    For a brief, tiny moment, she had to admit that perhaps they could find a common ground.

    But in the end, with her faithful scythe in hand, the half-elf got into a guard position, ready to start the fight.

    "Come on, I''ll leave you the chance to launch the first assault. There won''t be a second time."

    Since the start of that strange conversation, the other living corpses began to utter a word. Spitting all their contempt and venom on her, because of the perceived refusal.

    "Insolent."

    "Little arrogant brat. Don''t you realize what your situation is?"

    "You will pay dearly for your haughtiness!"

    "Silence!" Their leader shushed them. "Can''t you comprehend that you are outnumbered? Do you really think you have a chance?"

    He seemed strangely disappointed at her rejection. Antilene could almost read the regret in those empty eye sockets.

    "Sure, I can."

    "Pride. The nemesis of success. Very well, but don''t complain I didn''t warn you. [Hell Flame]"

    A very small flame clung to her arm and in a few seconds, it became a furious inferno of black flames. The temperature was so high that it should have melted anybody and anything it came into contact with without much ceremony.

    But for Antilene, it was only a particularly bothersome heat, typical of intensely sunny summer days.

    Sixth tier? No, maybe even higher. Interesting!

    The damage the girl was taking was minimal. But the fact that she felt a vague sensation, that distantly remembered pain, was already something out of the ordinary.

    Now it''s my turn.

    Moving her weapon so fast that it generated a rushing wind that dispersed the flames, she tensed her muscles. Applying as much pressure as possible, she gave a full thrust with her right foot and went straight for Kunivela''s neck.

    The Night lich and his ilk soared into the air, while the four Death Cavaliers moved into fighting stances.

    They tried to stop her run by lunging with their mighty cutlasses.

    The scythe deflected the blows, but at the moment of contact small concentrated blasts unfolded with their power.

    They imbued their weapons with spells. A good move.

    The force of the explosion raised a great fuss from which he emerged unharmed, without even the shadow of the slightest harm.

    She was encircled. The knights prepared to bar her way, as the liches began casting spells from their elevated position to bombard her.

    "There is no escape."

    "[Dragon Lighting]"

    "[Undying Flame]"

    "[Freeze Lance]"

    "[Grand Fireball]"

    "[Chain Dragon Lighting]"

    Elemental sorceries flooded her location like a downpour.

    "[Greater Evasion] [Greater Reinforce Defense]" The martial arts, like sweet nectar, augmented her evasion skills and defensive capabilities.

    She managed to avoid all the blows, except for the dragon-shaped beam of light hurled by the Night Lich, which hit her full in the armored chest.

    She knelt on the soil.

    Thinking it was over, the Death Cavaliers broke formation to deliver the coup de grace.

    Too easy.

    Before the first blow could reach her, Charon''s Guidance quickly swung around, and with a single crash, the body of her attacker fell to the ground, broken in two.

    From above came more elemental spears, lightning bolts, and fireballs to try to plug the half-elf.

    She was too fast. Grabbing one of the sabers that fell to the ground from her first victim, Antilene climbed onto the head of another of the foes, which she used as a point of support to make a leap and soar in flight.

    With the stolen weapon, the half-elf pierced the swollen body of one of the undead sorcerers.

    The spell with which it had been empowered did the rest. Her target''s body was reduced to ash, as she used the recoil of the detonation to fall to the ground.

    In her descent, she used the speed conferred by the shock wave to land with a flying kick on a Death Cavalier, which collapsed like a withered tree before a barrage.

    "Hit her now!"

    Too late. With a graceful somersault, she was already a few meters away when the spells fell on the poor undead, still blocked to the ground.

    "You are strong, I recognize it. But your show ends now. [Hell Circle.]"

    The books floating above the Night Lich''s head began to spin rapidly as they were engulfed in ghostly flames.

    The swirl of blaze wrapped itself around her chest, paralyzing her movements.

    The two remaining knights decided to take advantage of her moment of weakness to overwhelm her, believing they now had victory in hand.

    Even undead can fall victim to impatience.

    Antilene expanded her muscles as much as possible and, although the enterprise had left her opponents stunned, she freed herself from those particular chains without having to make an excessive effort.

    "[Greater Slash Strike]"

    A blow sharp as two blades of breeze ended the non-life of those two aberrations.

    "Inconceivable!"

    Collecting the remaining swords, she put on a display of lethal knife throwing. Two of these directly shot another of the lich who was overwhelmed by a storm of energy, reducing him to dust.

    Kunivela tried to keep as much control as possible, feelings like dread and distress were something that he had overwhelmed many, many years ago.

    "[Rotten Plague]"

    A cloud of insects of all sorts materialized in front of the half-elf. Grasshoppers, bees, locusts, flies, moths, and countless other species descended upon her, ready to devour her flesh.

    They tried to get into the joints of her armor to be able to penetrate her skin but, in contact with it, they realized that it was so hard that they could not even scratch it.

    "Is this your latest stunt? I was hoping for something more thrilling!"

    A couple of sweeps of her scythe sent a small whirlwind that eradicated the nasty little creatures.

    "No, it was just to buy time. Observe!"

    Kunivela had ascended past the top of the watchtower. The other liches around him began chanting empowering spells.

    The Night Lich''s body began to glow with a soft light as he prepared to invoke his trump card.

    "[Meteor Swarm]"

    Incendiary fragments of celestial bodies began wreaking havoc on the battlefield, structures collapsing from the impacts as the ground was engulfed in flames.

    The tower began to lose components that collapsed unceremoniously on the half-elf, who was overwhelmed by the violent encounter between the meteors and the building.

    At the end of the spell, only debris for a radius of fifteen meters.

    A suffocating silence imposed his reign with an iron fist.

    "It''s over!"

    "You are right!"

    Emerging from the remains with barely any dust marks, Antilene scrambled up the remains of the tower in a fraction of a second to get to her quarry.

    The other two liches stood between her and her target but, by then, it was too late.

    "[Greater Ability Boost] [Greater Focus Battle Aura] [Strong Strike]"

    The strikes were executed in an elegant deadly prom, first piercing the undead who had stood as a shield for their master, then breaking the Night Lich''s skeletal body into many tiny fragments.

    When they landed on the ground, of the majestic and at the same time frightening decadent body, nothing remained but the upper part of the torso, the right arm, and part of the leg that covered up to the left knee.

    The skull had been sliced from the height of the forehead to the lower left cheek.

    With his arm still intact, Kunivela was desperately attempting to glue the remnants of his face with all the strength he retained left, in a frantic attempt to piece together himself.

    "You are like them. I never thought that in the underground of the Theocracy, monsters similar to you were hiding. In the end, it was me who sinned of vainglory. What a miserable end."

    The scythe began to tease his neck, waiting to pass its sentence.

    "Any last words?"

    "Don''t you think that it is unfair that Gods walk this world just to remind us of our misery?"

    Swish.

    What had once been one of the world''s anguishes was now just a bad memory to be buried in the record of history.

    Unfair, huh?

    Antilene recited a small prayer for his soul, in Surshana''s kingdom there was no more room for grudges.

    It''s not as unfair as you might have thought!

 Chap 9: In the name of the father

    CAP 9: In the name of the father

    Lower Wind Month, 15th day, 18.00

    "So, that''s how things went?"

    Rufus quickly and diligently inspected the reports that had been delivered to him: in all, there were five packages written by members of the Black Scriptures and a summary that highlighted the most important events prepared by the Cardinals. A clear idea of the situation began to form in his mind.

    "Yes, we ran into the Zurrernorn sect and clashed with their leaders. We had no casualties and dealt a terrible blow to their organization. They will probably never recover from the loss of their leader."

    His pupil looked at him intensely with her bichromatic eyes. She rocked absentmindedly in the chair he''d offered her at the beginning of the meeting, while teasing her ponytail with her fingers.

    An expression between bored and half satisfied headed her milk-white face. The tips of her ears poked shyly out of her tousled hair in graceful, undulating motions.

    He expected that battlefield experience had transformed her into a more diligent and disciplined soldier, but the reality that had presented itself to his eyes was quite different.

    Still, he couldn''t be entirely unhappy with that lack of change.

    In fact, he was strangely pleased to see that it was the same Antilene as always.

    "To think that the leader of that cult was one of the legendary Night Liches. It was imprudent of me and the Council to send you to that place without proper support. Thanks to Alah Alaf the situation was resolved in the best way. I don''t want to imagine what could have happened, otherwise. I would never have forgiven myself for a mishap."

    "Why are you so hard on yourself?" Antilene asked him indifferently. "Sure, that undead was stronger than normal, and had legendary monsters at his disposal as devotees, but taking him out was like a walk in the garden. Honestly, given the anguish with which they are described, I was expecting something more ominous. Phew, at least I should have gained some experience."

    Rufus had to muster all of his strength to avoid putting a shocked expression on his face. For normal Godkins, even if not insurmountable, a Night Lich should still have proved to be a challenging and perilous opponent to face. And instead, his disciple spoke of it as if it were only an insignificant ant to be crushed. He had to admit to himself that he was beginning to feel a little fearful.

    Was there a limit to what she was capable of?

    "Did you have to use all the cards at your disposal to get rid of him? It could have been a good opportunity to improve your mastery of the skills of the Gods."

    "No, nothing that compelling, sadly. Even the most basic martial arts were enough to win the match. Wait, I''ll show you how it went!"

    The half-elf got up to position herself in the middle of the room and engage in a simulated fight with imaginary opponents. She hopped back and forth, gesturing with her hands and body to describe the actions she had performed in a childlike fashion.

    "And at that point, the Death Cavaliers surrounded me. But I was very skilled in breaking the encirclement with graceful mastery."

    "He then tried to immobilize me with a flaming circle, but with my extraordinary physical strength, it was child''s play to break free. You should have seen the expression of amazement on their faces. Even skeletons can show bewilderment, I''ve found out. Can you do it?"

    "As the last move, Kunivela attempted a spell imbued with much more energy than before. I believe it was in the 8th-tier enchantment realm, but I''m not entirely sure. He managed to do some damage to me, so surely was out of the ordinary. Anyway, nothing to worry about."

    Rufus carefully observed this clumsy attempt to reproduce a clash that, due to its scale and the players on the pitch, could very well have become legendary.

    In a small, narrow space like that, instead, it took on the connotations of a popular farce.

    But his pupil seemed so satisfied to show him every little detail by scurrying from one side of the circular room to the other, that he couldn''t find the courage to tell her that he already had an idea of how things had gone thanks to the statements of the other Black Scripture members.

    Rosalie and the others, concerned for the safety of the girl, had kept a safe distance to keep a watchful eye on the situation and intervene in case they had to beat a withdrawal.

    Obviously, nothing had occurred to require their intervention. The woman, with whom he had had an interview that same morning, at one point had confided in him that never in their lives her and her companions had felt so ineffective and pathetic as at that moment.

    The distance was simply too much to bridge.

    "8th tier huh? Using it for us is not impossible, but it requires a specific ritual, over magic, and the use of casters capable of at least using the 5th tier. That there was someone able to use it so freely and quickly is exceptional. Too bad he''s dead, I would have liked to question him and acquire more information about his knowledge."

    "Oh!" Antilene lost all the excitement she had shown up to that moment and froze, realizing she had made a terrible mistake. "I should have let him live, shouldn''t I? Take him as a prisoner so that you could study all his knowledge in detail. Instead, I got caught up in a hurry and made a mess. I''m sorry I let you down."

    The stricken expression on her face was like a jab for Rufus. He cursed his big mouth and tried to put the pieces back together.

    "Nono, asking for more in circumstances like the ones you faced would have been irresponsible and foolish. More than anything I am delighted to see that things have worked out in the best way, without even one casualty. I feel great satisfaction in seeing how masterfully you managed to accomplish the mission. I''m proud of you."

    "Do you really think so?"

    "I think so."

    His disciple began to calm down again and gradually lose the concern that was peeping into her face. A small triumphant smile began to adorn her pale face.

    Though Rufus was amazed to notice a hint of melancholy radiated from her irises. Was it just a suggestion?

    Even as her abilities are out of the norm, she remains a little girl in need of approval like many others. Not even I realized how much normality lies behind those frightening abilities. Ah, if only that woman, Nazaire, was still here. Surely, she would have been more qualified to handle teenage girls.

    More than just capable fighters and extraordinary sorcerers were needed to keep a nation going. Even ordinary men and women like Antilene''s old nurse were indispensable in sustaining the foundations of the Theocracy.

    Prowess on the battlefield was absolutely essential, no one could say otherwise. But on the other hand, it alone was not enough to carry forward the project of a nation bright for all, like that of the Slaine Theocracy.

    Even those who possessed qualities not indispensable for survival against the incessant struggle with other races retained irreplaceable value for the realization of that elusive dream of peace and prosperity so much sought.

    Sure, many would have proved ineffective in bringing down a crazed troll or subduing a basilisk hungry for human flesh. But without economists, jurists, bureaucrats, and merchants, however, the country could not have functioned as efficiently as it did now.

    This was the beauty of humanity that his creators extolled, that same beauty that he now tried with all his energies to preserve and protect. A sacred task that he fulfilled with the utmost professionalism.

    "Yet, master, I can''t be entirely gratified regarding the last few days."

    The doubtful words of his disciple distracted him from his hidden reasoning.

    "What bothers you so much?"

    Zurrernorn probably would have continued to exist without his spiritual guide, but it was undeniable that the blow that had been dealt to it would have made the cult''s next moves much, much more discreet.

    For a long time, they would have not assumably heard of them.

    "From what we learned from the executives and the captives on the return journey, we can assume there is a mysterious force that is plotting in the shadows, the cause of this disaster. Not being able to find out what it was leaves a bad taste in my mouth, honestly. I feel like I''ve done the job halfway."

    "Yes, I have read about this unpleasant news. Unfortunately, at the moment we have no trail to follow and we can do nothing but wait for new revelations to reveal themselves to our eyes. It''s frustrating, but at least this will keep us in mind that our borders are not as secure as we thought. We have a lot to rebuild. What do you think of the situation?"

    Antilene began to run her fingers along the underside of her chin, quizzically. More than locked in deep thoughts, she seemed like a silly imitation of someone she''d been closely observing for the past week.

    "Kunivela spoke of various kingdoms in a remote part of the Continent affected by a curse probably similar to the one that afflicted our villages. Since my return, I have had all possible accounts procured from the Cardinals'' archives dealing with places far from our classical sphere of influence. But so far, I haven''t achieved great results if we exclude some unpleasant migraines."

    "In the end, what do we know for sure about this particular magical rite? People who instantly become zombies or other types of undead in such a large area of reference. If, indeed, as you say, not only small peripheral areas but entire nations have previously been affected, we are faced with a weakened version of the same magic, or this time the perpetrator of this villainy decided to operate on a smaller scale than in the past. Assuming it''s the same culprit, of course."

    Reevaluating the numerous possibilities that stood out in his mind, Rufus had to note with dismay that the situation presented many concerns: not only was the use of that strange spell new to them, but the mysterious culprit was an unknown factor that could not be left unexplored for a long time, risking that it would recur even more perilous in the future.

    "As we escorted them to the prisons, we gleaned as much information as possible from Zurrernorn executives, but with little actual results. They have described this ritual of theirs in broad mystical and arcane terms but, in practice, they remain in the dark like us. In reality, even their leader spoke of it as a mere hypothesis and not something certain. In any case, I doubt we will find the explanations to our questions anytime soon. It would be great if the wind brought us the treasures we seek, but Nekole can be a capricious God at times."

    The frustration of having a puzzle that was missing fundamental pieces was strong, but at the moment there were very few things they could do to break that deadlock. There was no choice but to wait to see how the situation developed, using the utmost vigilance possible.

    "It appears, judging by your accounts, that one of the executives managed to escape taking some of their most important research with him. Is that right?"

    From the remains of the elder liches with whom the half-elf had fought, they had plundered some magical items of exquisite workmanship. Not comparable to the relics of the Gods, of course, but still superior to the norm. They were awaiting sorting into other Scriptures, as they studied the actual power they wielded.

    Instead, what was missing, from what he had been able to hypothesize, were the writings containing the details of Kunivela''s studies. Rufus was sure that unimaginable wisdom was enclosed within them.

    "Yes, it''s correct. After rounding up the bodies and prisoners, their spokeswoman, a woman called Etysh, informed us that one of her comrades was missing. But after a couple of hours of looking for him, we concluded that he had gone into hiding. We do not know if he took advantage of the confusion to find a way out or if Kunivela himself gave him instructions, before the start of the conflict, to secure all his precious notes. Personally, I lean towards the second hypothesis. Had he been present during the Spartiate assault, he would have had little chance of escape."

    "And can we trust the words of this woman, this Etysh?"

    Antilene remained engrossed for a few moments, evidently intent on retracing the last interactions with their prisoner, avoiding giving a hasty response.

    "Yes, I think so. After seeing their leader being annihilated, she completely lost all remnants of her fighting spirit. It was her who convinced the surviving members to surrender, after realizing that they had no more chances. And she was always the one to answer all our questions about the situation and the cult. Don''t be too ruthless towards that woman. She indeed committed serious crimes, but I don''t think she is irredeemable. In the end, all this mess wasn''t even Zurrernorn''s fault, even if they took advantage of it to complicate the situation even more."

    "Where does all this compassion come from? I remind you that they are in any case heretics who are the creators of unspeakable horrors!"

    "I understand that. But don''t you think too many people died in a few days? Isn''t it the duty of the adepts of the Six Great Gods to preserve every form of human life?"

    Rufus was amazed by such a charitable argument. Perhaps, after all, she had learned something from that mission.

    "Um, I promise you nothing. But I will try to put in a good word for the Supreme Council."

    At the moment the thorny question concerning the fate of the captured cultists was in the expert hands of the Judiciary Department, which acted in concert with the Cardinal''s Departments of Darkness and Wind.

    Each dicastery under the control of the Cardinals maintained a series of immovable bureaucratic functions concerning the future projects of the country, the coordination with the other administrative branches, the management of public money and the new economic maneuvers, the preservation of public and cultural works, the study and the elaboration of dogmas, etc.¡­

    However, each Cardinal had the possibility of giving the exercise of his function a personal imprint based on his area of professional experience.

    For example, the current Cardinals of Darkness and Wind came, respectively, from the Supreme Court and the Legislative Assembly of the clergy of the Theocracy and had, as close collaborators, narrower professionals specialized in the same subjects.

    Even the command of the Six Scriptures was entrusted to a Cardinal, according to custom chosen from one of the members of the Blacks who had retired from service.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    So, to resolve the most complex issues, not just judicial ones, it was almost natural to request their intervention to set up a specialized team with the other administrative bodies.

    Now, the inquiries of the prisoners belonging to the cult of Zurrernorn raised important questions.

    To begin with, their crimes were not limited to Slane territory alone but encompassed most of the neighboring nations such as the Kingdom of Re-Estize, the Baharuth Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and even the alliance of city-states of Karsanas and the Argland Council State.

    At present, there were no international conventions governing the sorting of transnational criminals and a formal extradition request would have to be accepted by the country hosting the prisoner to be effective.

    For the moment, the capture of the cultists had remained secret. But it would not be long before the spies present in the Theocracy reported the matter to their masters.

    Before long, numerous delegations would show up at their door, claiming what they believed was rightfully theirs.

    Someone might have wondered why other nations were so interested in wanting to judge those worshipers of blasphemous deities firsthand.

    Indeed, leaving everything in the hands of the Slaine justice system might have seemed like a more considered and sensible choice. A saving of precious time and resources, that could be used for projects that were alternatively more profitable.

    But the truth was, those in their custody weren''t low-level bandits or petty crooks.

    Each of Zurrernorn''s necromancers brought with them magical knowledge superior to that of the ordinary sorcerers who crowded the surface world.

    With the excuse of a lighter sentence, or with more suitable methods of persuasion, it would have been easy to bring that baggage of information to one''s side and reinforce war and technological assets. Especially now that the cultists morale and scope were reduced to an all-time low.

    The alternatives that lay ahead were therefore many: on the one hand, they could have executed them all and closed the matter quickly without risking diplomatic incidents, given that hardly anyone would have risked making enemies of one of the most powerful states in the territory for what they were, at least as far as public opinion was concerned, a band of heretics without Gods. A quick and effective solution that would have saved possible future conflicts, but which brought very few long-term benefits.

    On the other hand, they could have acted quickly and set up various diplomatic committees to hand over fewer valuable members to their neighbors on their initiative, while leaving the executives of the organization in their hands.

    In that way, they would not only have kept the most valuable knowledge towards themselves, but would also have shown a predisposition for collaboration on an international level that could have proved useful for the near hereafter.

    At the same time, the other human kingdoms would not have been completely defeated and would still have gained fruitful capabilities for their future.

    Rufus believed that the second option was the most propaedeutic for the future of Slaine and humanity as a whole. However, the unknowns were represented not only by the possible reaction of other countries, which could have sensed the deception, but also by the predisposition for Etysh and her companions to work for them.

    "Tell me," he said to his pupil, "do you think it would be possible to convince that woman and her companions to serve our cause? An affirmative answer could make their survival almost certain."

    "I''m sure!" The half-elf answered with determination. "Give them a chance and they won''t let you down. If they should think of pulling some bad joke, I''ll take care of putting them back in line."

    The conviction with which she expressed that statement convinced him of the genuineness of the proposal.

    "I understand. If you are so convinced, I just have to report your suggestion to the Cardinals and the Pontifex. I already have some ideas with which they can be useful. Starting with flushing out the other affiliates that didn''t end up in our grasp."

    The afternoon light was starting to lessen. The last reddish rays of sunset receded to make room for the cold embrace of the moon and stars.

    "By now I think the hour has come to take our leave, my dear. See you tomorrow afternoon to resume our training program. Though I wonder if it''s really necessary and if you still need my guidance. Anyway, fifteen o''clock sharp. Punctual."

    But Antilene did not take leave. In fact, she remained motionless, biting her lip. It was evident that something was troubling her soul.

    "Before I leave, I must confess something to you, master."

    The undead wondered what might be causing such agitation. He had a hard time believing that there could be anything that needed his attention. Nonetheless, he decided to listen to his pupil''s concerns.

    "Tell me everything. I''m here to listen to you."

    "It was before we started fighting. Kunivela made me an offer which, in his opinion, would be irrefutable."

    The self-confidence she flaunted until a few minutes ago had disappeared, replaced by an atypical hesitation, unnatural for a self-confident girl like her.

    "What did he propose to you that was so irresistible?"

    "He was sure that if he could complete the ritual, he would be able to control life and death without the limitations of today''s magic. He¡­he said he''d be able to bring her back here with us. That I could hug her again."

    Oh, now he comprehended everything.

    "And what did you answer him?"

    "I¡­I hesitated. It was only for an instant, I swear. But for that single moment, I was tempted to reach out my hand and accept. I let you down. I was not as perfect as my position in Black Scripture would have required. I was about to put my selfishness before the good of the mission. From tomorrow, I will resume my apprenticeship even more seriously. I will not make such a misstep again. Please forgive me."

    No, she hadn''t let him down. Far from it. But how could he make the little girl understand? Why was it so difficult to express his emotions? Was it for his skeletal condition? Or was his soul as empty as his body?

    "My dear, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. Temptation reminds us that we are still mortal, that we are still capable of being tied to earthly affections. Don''t be ashamed of your weaknesses, but be proud that you were able to overcome them."

    He placed a hand on her shoulder to show his understanding. Antilene seemed to calm down.

    "Do you¡­do you think she would be proud if she saw me now?"

    "¡­I''m sure of it."

    Rufus felt a grip trapping him around the waist. No, it wasn''t as strong as a grip. It was something sweeter and more tender. A sign of vulnerability and love.

    "Do you mind if I stay like this a little longer? Just a little more?"

    "¡­No, I don''t mind."

    "You are warm. You remind me of Auntie Nazaire."

    He doubted those old bones of his could transmit anything remotely similar to warmth. But it didn''t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

    "Another minute like this, okay?"

    Only the two of them remained in that small moment, as time lost its meaning.

    What a waste!

    Decem Hougan regarded the sickening scene before his eyes with contempt.

    His favorite concubine had decided to take her own life by slitting her veins on what had been his favorite bed a few hours earlier.

    The girl''s bodily fluids soaked into what was his favorite blanket; an unpleasant cadaverous smell vehemently tickled his royal nostrils.

    Those were my favorite sheets. The feel with which the linen caressed the skin was exquisite. Why did she decide to take her own life in this very place where we shared so many pleasant memories?

    It was an unfathomable mystery. Retracing all the sweet memories spent in that nuptial bed, it was even more inconceivable that his favorite had decided to end it right in that special place.

    But why? Hadn''t he shown her all his attention and passion, by calling her more than once to his bed? What could have prompted the girl to make such an inexplicable gesture?

    She had captured his attention from the first moment Decem had led her into intimacy. Unlike her fellow townspeople, she was able to understand how noble and important the duty that had been entrusted to her was.

    He knew what many of his mistresses thought: that his plan to raise the elves to splendor and greatness was just an elaborate excuse to satisfy his sinful appetites.

    Ridiculous! Inconceivable! Outrageous!

    Dirtying his royal body by binding it to that of inferior beings was a continuous torture for his essence. But he was more than happy to sacrifice himself if it would lead his kingdom to greatness.

    The others couldn''t see it, but she could.

    Amelia. This was her name. And from the beginning, she had been smart enough to grasp that his intention of creating a perfect race of elves was the only possible solution for the realization of an immortal empire that would rule the world until the end of time.

    And his seed was the only viable way to bring that utopia to reality. With an army of his own kind, who could ever stop them?

    Sometimes he considered he was the only one who cared about that timeless dream.

    The pitiful state in which the war proceeded did nothing but prove him right. Those miserable humans won every battle they waged against his subjects.

    Of course, he could have intervened himself and put an end to it on the spot. But what degenerate father doesn''t let his children come out of his shadow and take flight with their own wings?

    Certainly not him. He generously gave every one of his offspring a chance to distinguish himself and make him proud, although the results so far had been disappointing. How could they hope to win his love without demonstrating the extraordinary abilities he had bestowed upon them?

    Yet, most of his progeny had proved utterly incapable of performing feats worthy of his attention.

    If his genetic makeup was perfect, and it couldn''t be otherwise, then the only possible explanation was that the qualities of the women he mated with were well below his expectations. He strained again and again, but kept failing, without getting any noteworthy outcomes.

    Amelia, in recent times, had led him to momentarily rekindle the light of hope.

    The interest she showed in his life denoted cognitive abilities well above the norm. The long chats that had enlivened their evenings would forever be a memory that would be carried with affection in his heart.

    How long since he showed such a vulnerable side to another living thing? His position brought obligations and duties that alienated him from the common vulgar, but even a regal presence like he was, found the company of another person gratifying. Not only on a physical level, but also an intellectual and moral one.

    She hadn''t had time to grant him an heir, which was a great disappointment. He hoped that this would turn out to be the right time, but once again his desires were dashed.

    He was used to it by now.

    Did she kill herself for that?

    For someone as perceptive as he was, it was obvious why the girl showed such an insistent attachment to him.

    Love.

    After all, for a woman to fall in love with him, it was only natural. His beauty, physical and magical capabilities, and intellect stood out above any other man in all of Evasha Forest. That it aroused such feelings in a young woman was as normal as the wind blowing or the rain descending on earth.

    Of course, it was completely unthinkable that he could reciprocate her sentiments. The difference in social class was too great for it to be translated into something concrete. A few hours earlier he had clearly told her that he was aware of everything and that he would act accordingly and now, here was the harvest of what he had sown.

    Had he been too hard on her?

    However, lying wouldn''t be fair after the devotion she''d shown him.

    But¡­but she didn''t need to resort to such an extreme gesture to show him her love.

    Not that he didn''t appreciate it, of course. He just thought it a waste to lose such a precious life just for a show of loyalty and dedication.

    In the end, he decided to forgive her. It was the job of a good ruler to honor the last memories of his subjects. And he stood in the world as the best monarch of all.

    He left his private room to head into the entrance hall of the royal palace, where two sentries were standing, keeping watch with the utmost attention.

    They almost looked like capable warriors. Almost.

    "You!" He said, turning to them. "Come here immediately."

    The two, as if dragged by a mysterious and unstoppable energy, approached as soon as possible to kneel at his feet.

    "At your orders, Your Majesty!"

    "Tell us what we have to do and it will be done!"

    They were visibly shaking like a pair of leaves blown in a hurricane. What a pathetic sight. Were these the best men he could count on?

    "An unfortunate incident has occurred in my room. I want this resolved as soon as possible; no time wasted. Have we understood each other?"

    "It will be done, Your Highness!"

    "We won''t let you down!"

    They would have had to work hard to fail that simple task and dissatisfied him. But he didn''t say anything else. Wasting time with two idiots would have been counterproductive.

    He watched them go with embarrassing awkwardness.

    Were they the best the land had to offer? It was no marvel that those foolish humans of the Theocracy were able to attain victory after victory.

    With such incompetent soldiers, the reverse would have been indeed strange.

    If only he could have found a way to make them useful. For a long time, he endeavored to create a magic that was able to change the biological sex of the target, in such a way as to increase the chances of generating the coveted fantastic progeny. Unfortunately, the results had been unsatisfactory and he had to give up.

    Perhaps the secret of this spell was kept among the legacies of those phantom Six Gods of the Theocracy.

    Decem was sure of their existence, but doubted their divine essence. After all, the only ones who could have boasted a high-sounding title as a deity were individuals of a very different caliber.

    Speaking of the Theocracy, I wonder if that child is still alive.

    Some time ago, he had allowed a woman of that nation to bear the fruit of his love in her womb. She hadn''t accepted willingly, as far as he remembered, but it mattered very little what a pathetic human managed to grasp of his revolutionary design.

    Instead, what interested him was the fruit of that so unusual union: certainly, the one with whom he had lain was not a human-like so many others, given her skills in battle, far inferior to his obviously, but still worthy of note. No, what piqued his curiosity was the child who should have come into the world. His abilities in the future could prove worthy of his attention.

    For the moment he would let those cheap priests think about germinating that intriguing seed. Who could know, maybe methods other than the ones he usually employed might prove more effective than he thought. And when the right moment would come, he would go and take what was rightfully his, as the patient farmer waits for the right moment before reaping his crop.

    After all, time wasn''t something he lacked.

    "Majesty, may I steal but a second from you?"

    As he strolled through the wide, ornately decorated corridors of his splendid home, the prime minister decided to pilfer some precious time from him.

    He was a heavily built, well-trained man, but otherwise possessed no physical characteristics that would set him apart from the multitude of people in his employ.

    In terms of intellectual ability, he was certainly not one of the brightest minds he had ever met. Indeed, he had no marked aptitude for politics and authority at all.

    Were it not for him, Decem was sure the realm would already have collapsed under constant infighting. Another reason why those elves should have been grateful to him. Too many to count, at this point.

    "Go ahead, I''m listening."

    In truth, he didn''t want to listen to his futile pleas about the war at all. But among the duties of a ruler, there were also unpleasant tasks.

    "It''s about your son."

    "Be more specific."

    "Nonviventium, your majesty!"

    "Ah, now I understand who you are talking about."

    Lies. But he really didn''t want to stay there and continue that silly little game. If he didn''t remember him, it meant that the boy didn''t count in the big picture at all.

    "I am sorry to inform you that we found his body this morning during a reconnaissance mission. Probably the victim of an onslaught of Theocracy purgatory squads."

    "And why are you alerting me?"

    The minister was stunned as terror began to paint his face. He started to stammer furiously, as he searched for an excuse to justify the waste of time it had caused him.

    "I¡­I¡­t-t-thought this was n-n-news to bring to your attention. F-f-forgive your humble s-servant."

    Decem sighed with resignation. He could overlook that reckless affront since the official had recently joined the palace staff, no more than twenty years if he remembered correctly.

    The man was fortunate that his person brimmed with clemency.

    "It doesn''t matter. It doesn''t matter. Rather, I tasked two soldiers with cleaning my rooms. Make sure they do a proper job and, after they''re done, let me find one of the concubines waiting for me in bed. I will be meditating in the treasure room. Call me when you''re ready."

    "Of course, everything will be prepared perfectly for your delight."

    He too took his leave with a particular frenzy.

    Delight? Far from it. But no need to correct him.

    Few places brought serenity to Decem''s soul like his treasure room.

    A reminder of a past time that had been cruelly taken away from him was the cradle where he affectionately kept not only the material bequests, but also all the most precious memories left by his deceased parent.

    In the entire history of creation, there had been no being remotely comparable to his late father and his companions in adventure.

    The 8 Greed Kings were called with disdain by pathetic bugs who couldn''t contemplate their greatness. But he knew the truth. He treasured it in the depths of his heart as the most precious of heirlooms.

    A loving figure gracefully moved around those precious objects in a past so distant, but at the same time so close, that he felt he could grasp it with his hand.

    So proud. So impressive. So noble. So loving.

    His childhood was a flower garden whose flowers smelled the fragrant smell of indigo and violet. And at the center of this bucolic picture was him, his father, who caressed little Decem with love filling his ears with talks full of affection.

    Making him proud was the greatest joy of the elf king''s life. The banal earthly pleasures were not even minimally comparable to the gratification it gave him to see his parent filled with pride. He had never been as content as in that now increasingly distant period.

    Every time he came to that area, he promised himself not to start crying thinking about the carefree remembrances of the past. And each time it got harder and harder.

    He couldn''t afford to remain the capricious child he once was. More important tasks were waiting to be accomplished.

    Take over the world and unearth the reality about his loving father. Trample into the dust the hateful lies that had been spread about him.

    Tyrant! Cruel! Merciless!

    A bunch of baseless falsehoods, based only on jealousy and unjustified resentment. He knew that none of what was said outside his forest was accurate. And one day he would prove it to the globe. He had suspicions more like certainties about who had been spreading the misconceptions, and one day soon it would be time to pay the bill.

    Only when everyone finally understood the superiority of his lineage and his chosen race, would he be pleased.

    To lead the elves to greatness had been his glorious father''s last will and, no matter the cost, he would carry it out with any means at his disposal.

    Even if he had to bring his body to a continuous effort to scatter as much of his seed as possible, even if he had to endure the constant disappointments his progeny brought him, he would grit his teeth and persevere until the fateful day when his destiny would be coming true.

    Sometimes he felt so tired of having to carry that ambition on his shoulders alone, but thinking back to the face full of contentment of the deceased man gave him all the energy he required.

    What son wouldn''t be happy to fulfill his father''s wishes?

    Decem would never be able to hug him again, but at least he would make his dream come true.

    That was enough for the Elven King.

    "Majesty."

    Who dared to disturb him?

    "The room is ready. The chosen one is waiting for nothing but your arrival."

    Sigh. He would have gladly avoided the chore, but his kingdom needed him.

    For the umpteenth time, he prepared to assume his responsibilities. This time he was sure he would get the coveted success.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

 Chap 10: New wind

    Cap 10: New Wind

    Upper Fire Month, 13th day, 6.00

    The cathedral of Earth had an entrance preceded by a four-sided portico where there was a large niche towards the outside with a tribune above the portal: here the Cardinals of the Theocracy of Slaine showed themselves to the people, framed by the majestic architecture to receive their devout attention.

    The internal elevation of the Chapel was characterized by three clearly perceptible levels: the large arches; the grandstand; the drum with windows surmounted by the dome.

    The large round arches rested on massive cruciform pillars and supported the monumental arches of the grandstand.

    The grandstand, so defined due to the presence of the Royal Throne of Imirduo, a structure made entirely of marble decorated in bronze, entirely surrounded the perimeter with a gallery, opened onto the central space again by round arches articulated in a double level of columns with decorated capitals, accompanied by a pulvinus in the lower register.

    The lower tier of the grandstand bays was enclosed by a parapet made of bronze grilles with geometric decoration. The gallery was vaulted in transverse barrels, semi-cylinders parallel to each other. The use of the same typology of semicircular arches and the alternation of two-tone keystones conferred a visual correspondence between the level of the large arches and the level of the grandstand. The verticality of the building was accentuated by the clustered columns and straight lines and culminates in the drum above.

    The octagonal drum had tall, sober windows, without splays, fitted with a plume. The eight-sided dome towered over forty meters high. It consisted of a cross vault, without ribs or spandrels. The top of the dome was a simple junction point of the vaults.

    The mosaic that adorned the dome bore the effigy of the God of the Earth flanked by an outline of minor deities'' intent on helping him build what appeared to be the prototype of a Theocracy church.

    The aura of majesty and devotion that permeated the sacred building had an invigorating effect on the fatigued soul of Raymond Zarg Lauransan, vice cardinal of the Earth and current third seat of the Black Scriptures.

    Coming back from a crucial diplomatic mission from the Draconic Kingdom, he hadn''t even had time to return to his home and tidy up his personal belongings, as he had been urgently summoned by his immediate superior.

    His role required a constant commitment, and therefore he did not give it too much weight. Indeed, continuous comings and goings and increases in assignments showed that his efforts for the nation were worthy of attention.

    In any case, the person with whom he had an appointment was already waiting for him on a bench in the central nave.

    Carnesio Assecle Elohi, current Cardinal of the Earth and commander of the Six Scriptures, was an elderly man with a jovial air, characterized by a lean and handsome physique. The hair, once of a shiny black color, had a silver hue as it decorated in patches what was a face with a gentle and serene air.

    He held a small pocket rosary tightly in his hands, the worn pages of which demonstrated the constant use that had been seen in the years.

    Raymond listened to him utter a low voice, a solemn invocation to the deities as he rested his gaze on the dome of the Cathedral.

    He had such a mystical and serene air that few could have guessed that that gentle and calm-looking old man was actually one of the strongest and most influential men in the country.

    Despite the age difference, the vice-Cardinal was well aware that he did not have even the slightest chance of emerging triumphant from an open confrontation against him. Not that there was any need to engage in conflict, of course.

    "Ah Raymond, my dear boy! Come sit next to me."

    After noticing his presence, Carnesio invited him to take a seat at the bar where he was resting.

    Raymond bowed reverently before the older man, demonstrating his loyalty with a simple and precise gesture.

    The bench on which he accommodated was far from being the height of comfort, but given its function as an aid to penitents, it could not have been otherwise.

    Showing one''s devotion also required physical as well as a spiritual sacrifice.

    A slight scent of incense was present in the air. Combined with the religious silence of the pilgrims in prayer, it surrounded their conversation with a reassuring sacredness.

    "I hope I haven''t been late. I got here as soon as possible."

    "You don''t need to apologize! Indeed, it is you who has to forgive this old fool who called you in such a hurry."

    "I am always happy to take your calls, Your Excellency. Please, don''t hesitate to request my presence whenever you deem it necessary."

    Carnesio scrutinized him affectionately, and a small grimace similar to a smile began to form on his wrinkled face.

    "Before we start the report, how about you pray with me? I''m almost done with morning vespers. Just a few minutes, and we can get started."

    "I''d be delighted to do it."

    They recited in a low voice, with the greatest possible respect for the other faithful gathered in the Cathedral. Some invocations contained in that discarded book that the old Cardinal was carrying with him.

    "Oh, Imirduo your art shapes our hearts. Your works shine with a light that guides our path. Your heart warms the cold nights of our lives. We prostrate before you, awaiting your judgment. Your mercy fills our souls with hope."

    They continued like this for no less than twenty minutes. After finishing, Raymond felt his spirit invigorated, the previous days'' fatigue gone. Prayer had a balmy effect on the followers of the Six Great Gods, some disbelievers might have thought it was just a waste of time, but he didn''t think so.

    It was part of the daily routine of many men and women of the Theocracy, not just among the higher ranks, that eased the tribulations of everyday life.

    During his absence from the country, the possibilities he had to withdraw into meditation had been very few, and he was grateful to have been able to resume them as soon as he returned.

    "How about we chat outside? In the open air, it will be easier to reflect on the problems gripping our nation."

    "An excellent idea, Your Excellency!"

    "Come then. We have a lot to talk about."

    Connected to the main hall there was a large open-air room in which a series of plants like jasmine, carnations, begonias, and many others were cared for with the utmost care, the origins of which could be traced back to any part of that area of the continent.

    The care of that place was, in theory, entrusted to the Cardinal of Earth but, in practice, it was the directorate of the Cathedral that took care of its estate while the figure in charge exercised only a control function.

    However, Carnesio adored that little corner of paradise and often went to that place to relax and leave worldly toils behind him.

    "A beautiful perfume, don''t you think?"

    The air was impregnated with a sweet aroma, and the freshness of the blossoms spread with a serene but decisive force, bringing a soft sensation of stillness to the two men.

    Raymond stroked as tactfully as possible the petals of a rose that had caught his attention. The top of the plant flowed through his fingers like a dewdrop.

    "Yes, this place soothes the soul like few others."

    "It is said that the God Imirduo used to meditate here whenever he sought inspiration for his next work. Even today, artists come in this garden to invoke divine intervention to guide their hands. Even I, during my adulthood, endeavored to improve my mediocre aptitude for poetry, surrounded by this natural beauty. I dreamed of being cheered by adoring crowds for my writing. But with very few results, as you may have noticed. Ahahahahah."

    A laugh with a slight hint of remorse brought melancholy to the Cardinal''s face.

    For a Godkin like him, there was no other road than that of military or ecclesiastical life: a destiny already decided from birth. The needs of the many exceeded those of the few.

    Being chosen by the Gods involved a sacrifice far beyond that required of ordinary people.

    "I''m sure your poems are worth hearing, Your Holiness!"

    "No, they are not. But that''s okay, I accepted my job and place in life without regrets. But let''s stop thinking about this nonsense. Tell me, how was your diplomatic mission? Has the queen of the Draconic Kingdom accepted our requests?"

    "She had some reservations, but in the end, she couldn''t help but capitulate. The sum we have requested will be a serious blow to their state coffers. I wonder if we shouldn''t have been more generous with our assistance."

    For some time now, the Draconic Kingdom had been dealing with numerous demihuman incursions on its borders.

    In the beginning, there had only been small raids rejected with the help of the state militia. Unfortunately, in recent years the intensity of the struggles had begun to be increasingly violent.

    The military force at her disposal was insufficient to guarantee absolute security to her citizens and, to avoid dramatic escalations, Queen Draudillon Oriculus had acted preventively by requesting the help of the Theocracy''s special forces before her domain collapsed under constant attacks of beastmen.

    For its part, Slaine would have found it unacceptable for a kingdom composed entirely of humans to capitulate to the advance of lesser beings.

    Finding a common point was therefore a goal shared by both States.

    "In a perfect world, we could afford to lend our troops to any human kingdom without asking for anything in return. But we don''t live in that world yet, sadly. The deployment of the Sunlight Scriptures, the troops of paladins, and that new special unit are also expensive for our pockets. Speaking of the latter, how did you take the news when you learned the more specific details of its composition?"

    "How could the queen have taken it? She wasn''t thrilled with it but she understood that she didn''t have much choice left. Of course, we enchanted her to keep it a secret. Khajiit remained there to ensure that the operation proceeded in the strictest secrecy. There shouldn''t be complications, in any case."

    After years in the Black Scriptures, the vice-cardinal had become accustomed to operating in the shadows and using unorthodox methods to advance his nation''s goals. If possible, he would have gladly avoided resorting to those procedures, but his task went beyond unnecessary moral judgments.

    "I see." Carnesio began to look around, as if he suspected that someone was spying on them. But only the two of them were currently in that place. "And tell me, what was your impression of the queen?"

    "Why are you asking me?"

    "Pure curiosity."

    Draudillon Oriculus was not what one could have called an ordinary person. Her royal house could boast of a lineage that even traced back to one of the True Dragon Lords, the Brightness Dragon Lord to be precise, one of the most powerful and intelligent survivors of that ancient race.

    How a dragon could mate with a human was a question Raymond had repeatedly avoided asking himself during the journey. The simple explanation that it was a particular use of ancient wild magic was enough for him.

    In fact, according to their intelligence, even the descendant of that particularly curious dragon had the right to make use of that now-lost art, which she used to be able to change her appearance at will. It was said that she had begun to take the form of a defenseless child in order to leverage a feeling of protection in the population.

    Yet, the one who had welcomed him was a woman with a respectable and regal air, endowed with a marked sense of courtesy and diplomacy.

    The showy looks that surrounded her eyes had been the first thing to be noticed by the vice-cardinal: an unequivocal symbol that the suffering of her subjects was a boulder that weighed incessantly on the monarch''s spirit.

    What did he think of her?

    Since he had assumed his current role, more than once he had wondered what had to be the indispensable qualities that distinguish an authority figure.

    During his official and non-official missions, Raymond had the opportunity to come into contact with and observe a significant number of people in leadership positions.

    But by what was their aptitude for a superior position judged? From the welfare of the subordinates?

    From this point of view, his judgment of the queen would have been absolutely insufficient. After all, the people of the Draconic Kingdom wreaked havoc in conditions that bordered perilously on misery.

    If Slaine hadn''t guaranteed its help, they wouldn''t have resisted for more than five years, to be generous.

    But that seemed to him a parameter which, however relevant, could not fully encompass the complexity of the evaluation.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Especially when discussing a complex and multifaceted structure such as a kingdom, reducing everything to a single point of view could have turned out to be a hasty and gross mistake to be avoided.

    After all, the moment a royal ascended the throne they were not dealing with a clean slate, but inherited years and years of history, culture, and previous administrations to deal with.

    The current emperor of Baharut was considered a genius and revolutionary but, although his political and administrative skills were beyond any discussion, he had been able to count on the legacy of the reforms carried out by his predecessors. If the impervious path had been partially paved, the goal was not so unattainable.

    On the other hand, the current ruler of the Re-Estize Kingdom was considered by most to be unqualified, but there was no doubt that he had managed, with his difficulties, to keep up a nation that had been prey to internal strife for years.

    One person doesn''t make a difference; it was a creed that the Theocracy had embraced since immemorial time and which had a fundamental significance for its political action, internal and otherwise.

    So, in the end, what was his estimation?

    "Although I cannot judge the queen and her government action in its entirety, I can say with certainty that the impression I had on her was entirely positive."

    "Oh really? And what led you to this conclusion?"

    "The humility with which she has conferred with me and my assistants demonstrates a respect for the opinions of others, a quality I believe indispensable for those in a position such as hers. Furthermore, she was quick to accept the suggestions of her ministers and secretaries, placing their opinions on an equal footing with hers but always remaining able to evaluate the good and the bad of each of them.

    Finally, and this I think is the most important point, the Draconic Queen demonstrated an admirable foresight that took into consideration not only the well-being of the present population but also that of the future one.

    In fact, in addition to the military agreements, my report outlines a series of economic aids that we have planned to implement once the emergency situation will be over. There was talk of lower interest rates and discounts on their products for a series of reconstruction loans. Obviously, the ministry of the economy will evaluate the feasibility of these projects."

    "Splendid, splendid! I''m sure the Superior Council will be happy to hear your proposals."

    "My suggestions? What do you mean?"

    As a subordinate of Carnesio, it was not up to Raymond to address the Theocracy Council, but to his direct superior. In that case, the Cardinal of the Earth.

    "That''s the main reason I sent you to the Draconic Kingdom, my dear boy."

    Carnesio ran a hand through his bald head as he found the courage to reveal the fateful news.

    "I intend to retire. And I want you to be my successor. I have already submitted the application with all my evaluations. But it''s just a formality. The only thing missing is your decision."

    Generally, the appointment of a new Cardinal was proposed by one of the members currently in office but remained pending for practice for no less than six months before being carefully evaluated, except in cases of exceptional urgency and seriousness.

    But at the moment, there was nothing like it that justified that expedited procedure.

    And above all, why him? Among the other vice-cardinals and members of the Earth dicastery team, there were individuals much more prepared and capable.

    He was a member of the Black Scriptures, but other than that, he possessed no qualities that warranted that somewhat bizarre arrangement.

    Raymond could not understand.

    "I think you made a mistake. I''m nowhere near the best person for this job."

    "Do you question my judgment?"

    Carnesio stared at him intensely, in his eyes there was a magnetic force that underlined his extraordinary abilities.

    For a moment the vice cardinal was seized by a genuine and familiar terror. Only once before had he felt so at the mercy of another human being. The memory of that terrible experience caused a lump in his throat, for a moment he thought he was about to throw up, disfiguring that magnificent place.

    Not that his superior had bad intentions, quite the contrary. Yet, he couldn''t help but be in awe.

    "No, I didn''t mean that. I just can''t imagine what you saw in me to come to this decision."

    Carnesio crossed his arms, puffing with resignation.

    "Have more faith in your abilities, my boy. First, I don''t need to remind you how many times you have excelled in the field as both a special agent and military strategist. No one else in our departments can boast anywhere near your resume.

    And I don''t need to state that my successor will have to take command of the Six Scriptures, among other things. But that''s not just why I chose you. You are honest, endowed with a bright and open mind, a cool head to face the most delicate situations and, above all, an innate compassion for your fellow men. No, there is no one more perfect. With you in my place, I''m sure I can leave things in good hands."

    Raymond felt embarrassed by the unabashed praise. Was this how the Cardinal saw him? In his heart, he couldn''t help but feel a shred of satisfaction.

    "But why withdraw now? Your Holiness still has so much to give to this country."

    "No, it''s time for a new wind to blow over the Scripture. Big changes are in the air. The war is going to end, trust me. In a few years, we will have to reevaluate our position in the world."

    "The Black Scripture''s new Captain has yet to settle into his position. And then there''s that new girl who seems to be giving more than a few headaches. Don''t you think it''s better to remain stable for a while longer?"

    "No, a new face is needed to handle the new challenges that are approaching. I am too old and tired to continue. Have faith in your abilities! I have a lot of it."

    "I will try to be able to meet at least half of your expectations."

    "So, you accept?"

    "I accept."

    Raymond still wasn''t sure if he lived up to the praise of his soon-to-be predecessor. But the pride and esteem Carnesio showed towards the future Cardinal gave him a vigorous push to accept his future with serenity.

    A new chapter in his life was opening.

    He could only pray to the Gods that the soon ex-Cardinal hadn''t been wrong about him.

    Upper Fire Month, 13th day, 22.00

    "Slow, slow. You don''t need to try too hard, Rosalie. I''m here to help you."

    The streets of Silksuntecks had now emptied of the city crowd, as shopkeepers and passers-by returned to their homes to enjoy a well-deserved rest.

    Attached to Antilene''s arm there was a sweet old woman, trudging along the streets of the capital of the Theocracy.

    What had once been a proud enchantress was now struggling to maintain a barely stooped figure. The long hair had lost the scarlet of its coloring, replaced by a more banal and sadder light gray.

    The skin was studded with numerous wrinkles and calluses that hid what was once a smooth complexion.

    Yet, while time had proved its inevitability on her physique, that didn''t mean the mind was as shriveled as the rest of her being.

    Indeed, the sorcerer was more than aware of her physical decay and had accepted it with all possible naturalness.

    "I''m sorry to be such a heavy burden, Lady Zesshi. I am appalled at my uselessness."

    For her part, the half-elf had changed very little in those long years. She''d gained a few inches in height and lost some of her childlike air, but otherwise remained the same girl as always.

    The passing of the months had had on her only the effect of a modest glimmer of wind, and not of the storm that had overwhelmed those who were once her companions.

    "No trouble. I am happy to help you. Indeed, if I can do something more to give a hand, just ask. Do you want me to carry you? That wouldn''t be a problem at all for me."

    "I still have a modicum of dignity, but thank you for the generous offer. Ah, every time I look at your face, I can''t help but feel a minimum of envy. It must be nice to age so slowly. To stay young and beautiful for so long and not suffer the relentless judgment of time."

    Was it? Antilene wasn''t so convinced.

    For her, the seasons followed each other with impressive speed, but the clock of life marked its hands with an unjustified slowness.

    Instead, all the people close to her, dear and not, faded like a withered plant with a rhythm that she still couldn''t fully understand.

    The girl watched over them like a loving guardian from her tower, but she could never understand what it was like to walk the same roads that ordinary men walked.

    How many by now had she seen succumb to unjust disease or disappear after a dangerous mission? Maids who looked after the house, guards who watched over her person, healers who came to check on her health. How many of those faces could she remember?

    The half-elf wasn''t sure, and thinking about it made her feel an unpleasant melancholy. When her turn would come, because hers would come too sooner or later, how many would remember her?

    How many would have kept Antilene''s memory in their hearts?

    "You are still beautiful, Rosalie."

    "Thank you. Hearing you say it i¡­ coff, coff, coff."

    The older woman started coughing heavily. Her legs struggled to stay upright, and if it hadn''t been for the half-elf''s grip, she would have collapsed to the ground.

    "Wait, let me help you."

    The younger-looking girl cast a healing spell to aid her old mate. But even magic had its limits.

    For the moment Rosalie managed to regain her composure. But it wouldn''t be long before her condition started to deteriorate again.

    Seeing the old companion in that condition whipped Antilene. What was the use of being the ace of humanity if she couldn''t help the people she cared about?

    But even she couldn''t do anything to thwart Surshana''s arrival. Before a God, her powers were as good as anyone else''s.

    "I''m sorry to be such a burden to you. I should never have asked you to bother to drive me to a place like this at this late hour of the night."

    "Sneaking out of the treasure room every once in a while can only be good for me. Besides, I was more than happy to go with my old friend."

    Only the two of them were left of the old group now, and for how much longer could Antilene say the same?

    It hadn''t been easy but she had managed to convince Rufus to grant her that extraordinary permission. Her master had given his blessing and his help in shielding the girl from the gaze of the Cardinals in exchange for a promise that she would have returned to him before midnight to tell how it had gone.

    Antilene had willingly accepted. In recent times, the opportunities to leave her apartments had become increasingly rare and occasional. The last time she had gone outdoors in the capital was more than six months ago, if she remembered correctly.

    The missions were now only a distant memory. In recent years nothing had justified her departure from Silksuntecks.

    She should have been grateful for the tranquility that lived in her country, but the half-elf was still bored by the lack of action.

    But at least Antilene was sure that her ambition was close to being realized. The war with the elves was now increasingly in their favor. The present Cardinals had promised that it was only a matter of time before she could be sent to pay her ancient debt to her hated father.

    Even though her impatience was reaching its limit, she could have waited a little longer. Just a little more.

    "Here we are, we have arrived." She said, turning to Rosalie.

    Their destination was a small structure located a few kilometers away from the city center.

    Since cemeteries were located outside the city, a measure used to contain the possible appearances of the undead, some of the larger cities of the Theocracy were full of small shrines inside which were preserved the honorary bodies of some of the most important personalities in Slaine''s history.

    They were empty, of course, but they had more of a symbolic function to allow the loved ones of the deceased to pay homage to their memory.

    In particular, the one where the two women had gone was reserved for particularly important members of the army.

    "It''s been a long time since I''ve been to this place. But it always has a preparatory effect on my soul." Rosalie contemplated her surroundings, a note of melancholy was in her voice.

    Antilene could not remember exactly when was the last time she had visited a place like that. It was probably more than a decade ago.

    Away from the main hall from which they had entered, there was a long corridor that led to a small door sealed by a strong lock.

    Rosalie pulled a small key from her robe which she used to open the door easily.

    The room in which they lit was usually off-limits to the general public, except for prominent members of the Theocracy or close family and friends of the deceased, as it was dedicated to members of the Scriptures.

    A slight stuffy smell lingered in the room; however, it was contrasted by a more pleasant one produced by various chrysanthemums of various shades of tints that adorned the tombs.

    There was a particular legend concerning the Goddess of water handed down within the Theocracy concerning that particular flower.

    The legend, which attributed to it the meaning of renewal, told of a sad little girl who, watching over her dying mother, was lucky enough to be heard, in one of her difficult moments, by a minor divinity moved by her tears.

    Touched by the crying of the child, he decided to inform the goddess Egarda so that she would end her pains.

    The goddess, having listened to the story, personally went to the girl to give her a flower, warning her that when the time came, Surshana would arrive to take her mother, recommending that she delivered this to him and told him that the Gods had allowed her to pass away after many days as her petals.

    The little girl cut the petals into many strips in order to increase the number. Inexorably, Surshana arrived and the girl handed him the almost infinite petals she had obtained.

    Amazed and thinking of a joke against him, the God of Death decided not to take the adored mother with him, who remained with her daughter for as many years as there were chrysanthemum petals.

    It was a silly and baseless story, viewed with skepticism by the most expert of the doctrine.

    Yet Antilene had a soft spot for it, even if she was aware that it was only an apocryphal fantasy.

    But sometimes there was nothing wrong with believing that a lie was reality, and then given the symbol of renewal that chrysanthemums now represented within the Theocracy, it was possible that deep down there was a grain of truth in that story.

    It cost nothing to hope, right?

    "How many years has it now been since Kapitel died? Five, six? Ah, even memory is no longer what it used to be."

    Even their old comrades were honored there.

    The head of the Hazeia family had been the last of theirs to leave this world. But, from what she remembered, he had done it in the most total serenity and the fullness of his old age, surrounded by relatives and companions.

    Not a bad death. There were worse ones.

    "Yes, I still remember the serene face with which he passed away. He seemed happy to be reunited with his beloved wife in the afterlife. Kapitel, I hope this wish of yours has come true."

    "His grandchildren are in Black Scripture now, aren''t they? I heard that they gave a good deal of headache at first for their indiscipline."

    "The male actually stood out on more than one mission for his skills, as I recall. Instead, it is the girl who seems to have some particular problems. Not even my special training seems to have been able to straighten her. Well, not that it''s my problem."

    The battle with that warrior, Clementine was her name, still etched in her mind.

    In fact, the arrogance with which the new recruit had placed herself towards the extra seat had irritated the latter beyond measure. So much so that Antilene had decided to teach the recruit a hard lesson.

    Proud of her speed and her mastery of using her daggers to inflict fatal damage on her victims, Clementine tried to replicate a hit-and-run tactic that had evidently been successful with many other victims.

    She had been reduced to a pool of blood within seconds. Her wails and screams of pain were still etched in the half-elf''s mind.

    Usually, an experience like this was enough to put a new Black Scripture member down a peg. Yet, from what Antilene had heard, her methods this time hadn''t been as effective as they always were.

    In any case, it was not her job to provide for the education of a fool and, therefore, she would have let the Cardinals and the Captain of the Blacks to take care of her education.

    Speaking of the Captain, shouldn''t a new one take office soon?

    It would have been nice if they could have gotten along, there hadn''t been a good relationship with his predecessor.

    She should have asked Carnesio to update her on the situation, just to be sure to not mess things up.

    "Oh well, I''m sure things will work out soon. The hands of the Gods are always precise in tracing our path. The girl just needs to settle in, and she will find a second family ready to welcome her warmly. Just like it happened to me."

    The sorceress was sure of her statement, but the half-elf was unable to fully share it.

    She decided not to say anything, however. There was no need to agitate a woman in her condition.

    "And Buvesez''s nephew is now a seat of Scripture as well. Sixth, right? To think he took Campeao''s equipment. Those two were always bickering, but I''m sure they would have been proud to watch the younger generation take their place."

    They remained there, letting themselves be taken by memories of old times that began to disappear in the sands of history.

    Indeed, it was pleasant to let the past bring comfort to the present.

    "Coff¡­coff¡­coff¡­"

    Rosalie coughed again, this time even more violently than before. Antilene''s healing abilities were just a buffer to the current situation. They couldn''t stay in that place much longer.

    "Maybe it''s best if we go home. You need a rest."

    "First, pray with me. I don''t want to leave without paying my respects."

    Together, they recited an invocation to Alah Alaf and Surshana to take care of the souls of their deceased companions.

    The complexion of Rosalie''s face was increasingly pale, and the cough did not seem to stop.

    Antilene noticed that her eyes made an inhuman effort just to stay open. Worried, the half-elf decided to load her on her shoulders to bring her home as soon as possible.

    The old woman was so light; she couldn''t have weighed more than a hundred pounds at most.

    Taking the greatest care not to experience unwanted damage to the frail body of the old companion, Antilene crossed the districts of the capital as fast as possible until she reached her destination.

    Here, she had no trouble entering her partner''s home. Rosalie''s servants were still awake and ready to receive her.

    They washed and dressed their mistress for the night in record time, while the half-elf didn''t leave for a second to watch over her.

    When they put her down in the bed, the servants agreed to leave them alone, while they proceeded to call a healer.

    "I am truly mortified, Lady Zesshi. I was just a burden to you today."

    Her face became paler and paler, while the beat of her heart did not stop fading.

    "You have nothing to feel sorry for. Just think about resting."

    "... I sense that the end is near."

    No.

    "I will soon join the others. Ah, a new chapter of my life is starting."

    Please, don''t say that!

    "I can leave this world with serenity. Knowing you are here to protect it."

    Stop! Please, stop!

    "It was an immense honor to meet you, Lady Antilene."

    The honor was mine.

    The woman closed her eyes.

    Antilene felt her pulse. The heartbeat had stopped.

    Not even the tiniest movement could be felt now.

    There was nothing more the girl could do.

    "Sweet dreams, Rosalie."

    The half-elf walked away calmly; a new day was about to begin.

 Chap 11: Chosen by Gods

    CAP 11

    Chosen by Gods

    Upper Earth Month, 8th day, 20.00

    What makes someone special?

    If someone had asked him that question, Aeneas Marte Vicente would have been sure of what to answer: power.

    The power to be able to change things on your own.

    Slaine''s Theocracy used to preach unity among all men, numbers over quality. Every single citizen contributed to making the nation shine like a pure and brilliant diamond.

    It was in the quantity that their strength was hidden.

    But he knew it was all nonsense.

    Inevitably, some men stood above others in physical ability and intellect. And he was one of those chosen ones.

    Some lives were more precious than others. While most of his fellow citizens rolled in dung, he rose to a different plane of existence, far from that of ordinary mortals.

    Claiming that his life alone was more important than that of hundreds of thousands of Theocracy''s inhabitants was a stark reality that few would gladly accept but remained, in the end, an inescapable absolute.

    If an unspeakable horror, a child of the most macabre inner thoughts of a godless blasphemer, had threatened the abode of the Gods, it would not have been the task of the common soldiers to counter it.

    His was not mere vainglory, but only a cold statement of facts.

    After all, he had been chosen by the Gods.

    A once-in-a-lifetime miracle that had graced his father in his old age. Not his brothers or sisters. Him.

    "The Council has confirmed your appointment. Congratulations, you will be the new Captain of the Black Scripture."

    The Cardinal of the earth, Raymond Zarg Lauransan, had referred to the boy what for him had been the most natural piece of news in the world.

    Who else, other than the son of the previous Captain and awakened Godkin could have been up to that onerous task?

    Certainly not one of his brothers, pathetic fools without an ounce of his talent.

    Not another member of Black Scripture, their skills were not even remotely comparable to his.

    It was up to him to fill that coveted position. Not because he had worked more than the others or had distinguished himself in noteworthy enterprises. It was simply the natural course of the world making its way.

    It was destiny.

    "I will be happy to carry out my duties with the utmost diligence. Under my leadership, the Black Scripture will experience a new shine. You can be sure of that."

    "Before you are given the job officially, you will have to undergo a small test. Don''t worry, it won''t be much too difficult for someone as strong and talented as you."

    The Cardinal reflexively bit his lip, as if embarrassed to declare that last statement.

    Did he have something to hide? It didn''t make much sense. What a terrible ordeal might they have had in store for him?

    Both knew that no one could be able to twist a single hair of his, and causing him physical pain was absolutely out of any discussion.

    Only his father could boast of such an achievement, and now what was left of him was carefully buried in the depths of the Theocracy.

    The old Cardinal, perhaps. But now he, too, had to deal with the passage of time. And, according to what they had conveyed to him, he had retired to private life, far from the capital.

    "No trial will be too much for me. You of all people should know!"

    His late parent and the former member of Black Scripture had been bound by a relationship of deep friendship during their militancy in the task force.

    It was not uncommon to see him as a guest at dinner in his mansion, intent on discussing reasons of state with his father. He vividly remembered those moments of his childhood, spent fantasizing with his brothers and sisters about the glorious future that awaited them. That was waiting for him.

    Aeneas, therefore, had known the current cardinal since he was a child and had a deep respect for him. Something that very few could boast.

    "I''m sure it is. Just don''t let pride become part of your being. Having self-confidence is important. But it''s even more important not to overestimate yourself too much. Do you remember what I taught you?"

    Yes, he remembered it well.

    "Fear is fundamental to recognizing danger. Only by dominating it, can we face the unknown that threatens humanity in cold blood."

    But could there be something in the world capable of making him feel that feeling so rare for him?

    "Yes, excellent! There is always someone in the world who sits on a higher step."

    "I find it hard to believe." A bombastic smile full of triumph crept onto the boy''s lips.

    "Isn''t it true that I''ve never known defeat? At five years old I was able to make a man fly hundreds of meters. At seven, I could defeat a squadron armed with only a wooden stick. At ten, I humiliated the Theocracy''s best champions. At twelve, even the wildest beasts became tame animals after tasting my spear. And now, at fourteen, with my father dead and Cardinal Carnesio retired, no one can boast better battle skills than mine."

    "So, you think nothing can frighten you? That no matter the difficulty you face, you will be able to keep your head up and face any obstacle that comes your way?"

    "Mediocre people face difficulties. I am not like the others. How can I feel fear when nothing can hurt me? My flesh cannot be pierced, my body cannot know weariness. One day I''ll wither like my father, sure. But until then, as he has not known defeat, neither can I ever be overwhelmed."

    "Your father knew defeat, a long time ago."

    "When?"

    "I cannot tell."

    "Then I don''t believe you."

    Raymond put a hand to his chin, a few small lines starting to make their way up the back of his limb. How sad to see that old age affected even the bravest men.

    "I never had children of my own, and given the great respect I had for your father, you are aware that I see you as a member of my family, right?"

    "Of course."

    "Then you know I would never give you bad advice, right?"

    "Right."

    Aeneas held few people as capable of judgment as the precedent third seat of the Black Scriptures. Countless had been the tips that he had offered him during his years of training. Yet, this time it just sounded like unfounded worries, devoid of any logical argument to his ears.

    "Don''t be arrogant, if you don''t want to hurt yourself."

    The boy still didn''t understand. Where did all the Cardinal''s fixation with his perceived hubris come from?

    Could the mere statement of the bare facts be called arrogance?

    No one was comparable to his level. Nobody. Of that he was certain.

    "I''ll wait for you tomorrow night at the arena of the Cathedral of Darkness. Put on the equipment I gave you today. And be careful, these are sacred relics."

    "It will be done, Ray¡­ Your Excellency. You will realize that your apprehensions are totally unjustified. I will pass the test with ease without breaking a sweat."

    The Cardinal seemed very little persuaded by his words, and as he put on his cloak to return to his home, he limited himself to giving the young boy one last warning.

    "When the time comes, don''t be ashamed to ask for mercy."

    Having said this, he left, leaving the young man to ponder the meaning of his cryptic words.

    Ask for mercy. What nonsense. It would never have occurred. Never.

    Upper Earth Month, 9th day, 19.00

    His armor gleamed in the cold dark corridors of the Cathedral of Darkness.

    Divine protection fit his body like a second skin, the reinforced plates on his muscular chest giving him a mature air, exuding experience. Different from the classic childish attitude that usually distinguished him.

    The kneepads and boots gave his lower parts a mobility that even the best athletes could only dream of. It was like his body had reached the perfect weight, not a small trace of superfluity could have hindered his movements.

    A small cape swayed gracefully behind the back, in rhythm with his steps.

    With the spear of the Gods firmly in hand, he was sure that nothing could harm him even remotely.

    It was made of an unknown material, but he had been able to ascertain the night before that its offensive potential was well above the norm. Even the sturdiest walls would give way after a single blow from that weapon.

    Passing the fateful test would have been the classic walk in the park.

    I am the chosen one. Like my father, and my father''s father before me, I represent Black Scripture. I am Black Scripture. The champion of humanity. Yes, no one shines brighter than me.

    Walking through the doors of the training room, he would have expected to find something out of the ordinary that could put his skills to the test.

    Instead, an empty room was the only warm welcome he found waiting for him.

    No, it wasn''t empty. At the far-right corner, made visible by some candles that dimly lit the room, the Cardinal of the earth was present with an apprehensive expression.

    He was seated on a modest wooden chair, flanked by a small mahogany desk on which potions of the best quality were placed, which he was intent on sorting with care.

    But the most bizarre detail was the figure that gracefully rose from the center of the arena.

    A¡­a girl?

    Her wavy hair had a distinct color, one half completely white as snow, the other black as the night, that mixed in harmonious geometric lines intertwined on the strands that covered her ears enclosed at the top by two clips of considerable size.

    Her skin tone was sickly, uncomfortably pale. As if it hadn''t seen the light of day for years. Yet at the same time, it retained an ethereal and supernatural splendor, similar to that of angels.

    Her facial features were thin and graceful, her straight nose was bent with the tip down. Even the eyes presented the symmetry of the hair, the snowy and raven irises stood out like a diamond in the middle of the rocks of the desert.

    Even the clothes she wore were extravagant, a sweater that fit more than abundantly on her slender body and a refined black skirt were combined with pieces of heavy armor from which sharp spikes protruded maliciously, also glowing pitch black.

    Affixed to the upper part of the chest was a pretty ornament in the shape of a blue flower, which was gently caressed by the girl''s silk-gloved hands.

    After she was aware of his presence, the unusual girl turned to the boy, showing a disturbing smile, reminiscent of a lake of blood.

    "You are the newcomer, then. I will be your instructor for the test you will face before you can assume your new position. My name¡­ it doesn''t matter. You can call me by the epithet assigned to me in the Black Scriptures, beyond life and death, Zesshi Zetsumei."

    Zesshi Zetsumei? He knew all the current Black Scripture members by heart and was unaware of that girl. If what she said was true, her existence had been kept secret even from him. But for what purpose?

    "Your Excellency, is this a joke? What the hell does all this mean?"

    Raymond let out a long sigh, defeated before even starting.

    "No, it is not a joke. The existence of beyond life and death is a state secret that only a select few are aware of. I trust you will follow the line of your predecessors and continue in not disclosing its existence."

    What was so special about her? Was the girl a Godkin like him? But if that were the case, why hide it even deeper than normal, beyond the gaze of not only ordinary people but also special ones like himself?

    In all his life Aeneas had believed himself to be special, the last chosen bearer of ancestral blood that had increasingly faded into the rivers of time. And now, he found he wasn''t alone.

    Were all the grueling workouts, all the deprivations he had suffered for something?

    No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn''t figure out the situation. There was other information that was kept from him. But why?

    "Why am I only learning about this now? Why have you or my father never said anything to me in all these years?"

    "You weren''t ready, now you are. Lady Zesshi, forgive his impertinence."

    Ready for what? Everything kept making less and less sense.

    Judging by her appearance, Zesshi Zetsumei couldn''t have been a few years older than him, at most.

    Yet Raymond, one of the Theocracy''s foremost authorities, referred to that peculiar girl as if she were above him too.

    Who was Zesshi Zetsumei really?

    "No problem. If you''re done chatting, I''d say we can start with the trial. Why don''t you start telling me your name? The sooner we start, the sooner we finish. I''d like to hurry before it''s too late."

    Zesshi raised a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn, the carelessness with which she faced that situation irritated him deeply. How dare she take him lightly?

    "What is this test about?"

    "How rude. Go without too many frills, I see. It''s simple, you have to survive against me. We will face off, one on one. You can use all the techniques you know, every weapon and armor in the armory is at your disposal if you wish to change them. Cardinal Raymond has prepared some potions that you can use in case you need to. The trial ends after you surrender, or when you are no longer able to fight."

    "Surrender, me? And why should I give up? What makes you think you are stronger than me?"

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    "Habit."

    "Don''t overdo it, boy. Nobody asks you to do the impossible. We are already aware of your value. To overcome it, all you have to do is give your best. Nothing more, nothing less."

    Didn''t he have to win in order to pass the test? Hadn''t the possibility that he could beat this strange girl even crossed the Cardinal''s mind?

    They kept making fun of him. But soon they would understand that he was not like the others.

    What applied to normal people didn''t apply to Aeneas Marte Vicente.

    "Soon you will be on the ground and you will beg me not to end your life. I don''t care if you''re a state secret or some other such devilry. Before me, you too are also like an ant waiting to be crushed."

    Zesshi looked into his eyes. Aeneas had difficulty holding her gaze, an unknown sensation slowly made its way into his bowels.

    He decided not to give it any weight, it was just a suggestion caused by the absurdity of the situation. Yes, only a suggestion.

    "I hope your assurance is based in reality. After this outburst of pride, it would be rather anticlimactic to be disappointed. Get in position, let''s get started!"

    They stood facing each other, about ten meters apart. Raymond was positioned on the sidelines, but with maximum attention, ready to intervene at any moment if the situation required it.

    Aeneas took up a guard position, with his faithful spear thrust forward. His opponent, on the other hand, did not attempt to give the impression that she had assumed the slightest battle position.

    Not only did Zesshi not wear full armor, her figure full of exposed points that an experienced warrior like him could have easily exploited, but she didn''t wield any combat weapons either.

    Was the girl a monk and therefore needed nothing but her fists to fight? It wasn''t a common class in the Theocracy, but it wasn''t a possibility that could be ruled out.

    "Go ahead, make the first move. I am waiting for you."

    Zesshi kept underestimating him. But soon, she would understand the difference between them. A simple swipe would have sufficed to put this overconfident, undergrown woman back in her place.

    He charged a lunge with all his strength. The point of his spear was poised to pierce the bare skin between the neck and chest.

    The speed Aeneas had reached was incalculable, it wouldn''t even give her time to react before ending the challenge.

    He felt that he had already put an end to this vexing ordeal.

    Why were his eyes looking up at the ceiling?

    His body lay on the floor, his muscles wailing in pain as the back of his head throbbed sharply. When was he thrown away?

    "Is all your repertoire here? I am very disappointed."

    Before he even knew it, the boy had been thrown away like a garbage bag. Was it just a coincidence? He hadn''t noticed any movement.

    "It was just a fluke. Don''t think you will be able to do it again."

    With a leap, he restored the distance between them. She''d had the perfect moment to attack him while he was down, but decided not to take advantage of it. A mistake that would have been fatal.

    Ok, time to get serious!

    "[Physical Boost] [Greater Physical Boost]"

    Aeneas launched himself into the attack again, this time more than determined to hit his target.

    One, two, three lunges followed each other with shocking rapidity. Just one of those blows was sure to shatter the skin of the toughest monsters.

    Zesshi let the former brush her hair, dodging effortlessly.

    The second was avoided with a lateral movement of the torso, the point impacting her protection and being pushed backward.

    The third was deflected with a simple wave of the girl''s hand. No effort was put into that gesture.

    How is it possible?

    Before he knew what was happening, a right hook struck him in the abdomen.

    Aeneas spat out a mixture of saliva and puke as he knelt on the ground. The fibers of his muscles begged him to stop there. He didn''t listen to them.

    Was a simple punch enough to cause me all this damage?

    Never in his life had he felt pain like what he was feeling right now. But he couldn''t give in, not now.

    "Are you down yet? Let me have some more fun!"

    Once again, he made distance. And once again, he was not pursued by his opponent.

    Was he worth so little that he didn''t even deserve to be taken seriously? Inconceivable.

    "Now you will see!"

    "[Physical Boost] [Piercing Strike] [Piercing White Dragon Strike]"

    His spear took on a shape that resembled that of a majestic ice dragon, he felt the cold caused by the weapon freezing the room.

    Aeneas lunged with all his energy aiming at Zesshi''s chest, but the girl reacted expertly to his assault. The bracing of her arm parried the blow, as tiny icy particles began to spread around them. Not even the slightest scratch.

    The young man found himself having to deal with the disappointment of harsh reality. For the first time since he had begun the test, doubts began to creep into his soul.

    Impossible!

    Before despondency could break his spirits, he felt cloth-covered fingers grab his face. The girl had taken advantage of his moment of confusion to try to throw him back to the ground. Given the speed with which she moved, Zesshi would not have had much difficulty in accomplishing her purpose.

    "[Fortress] [Body Strengthening]"

    Aeneas was able to activate his defensive martial arts just in time to contain the impact. However, the damage was greater than he had imagined. His body was locked in a torment that fluctuated between pain and despair.

    "Again."

    Zesshi watched him from the top of her position. Now she no longer looked like a fragile girl, but a demon who had come out of the depths of hell, ready to bask in his suffering.

    He stood up. Against all common sense, he tried again to face her. This time he did not try a frontal assault but rather attempted to take the woman by surprise.

    The young boy started running around the room hoping she would chase after him. To his surprise, Zesshi continued to freeze in her position, not paying too much attention to him.

    "[Pace of the wind]"

    Hopping around her with the maximum output his body allowed, he scanned every possible weak point he could exploit, waiting for the right moment to attack.

    Zesshi continued to remain motionless. No, she began to play with the flower-shaped ornament she was wearing by running her fingers through the folds of its material without giving a care to the battle.

    She is distracted. Now!

    He leaped on top of her, ready to pierce the girl with his spear. "[Piercing Red Dragon Tusk] [Piercing White Dragon Tusk]."Like a raging waterfall, Aeneas descended upon his target. The red and blue of his blow merged into a bright violet, and colorful reflections spread throughout the arena.

    The speartip collided with the girl. A large amount of dust arose, covering the surroundings in a thick fog.

    It''s over!

    Before he could cheer his victory, a kick to the shin sent him writhing in pain again. Zesshi was dusty from head to toe, but hadn''t suffered even an ounce of damage, if not considerable, at least significant.

    "This last shot wasn''t bad. Again."

    The boy felt he was on the verge of bursting into tears. Why did nothing have the slightest effect?

    "I¡­I am the future Captain of Black Scripture. I am the Black Scripture! And I will never be defeated by you."

    A surge of pride reinvigorated him, he would not have let himself be overwhelmed so easily.

    Aeneas swung his spear to its full potential, creating a lethal vortex that would slay anyone unfortunate enough to fall into its grip.

    He spun again, and again. He got close to his goal by breaking down the sound barrier.

    Zesshi locked his weapon in a two-handed grasp. Aeneas found himself completely blocked. No matter how hard he tried and how much strength he put in, he couldn''t break free from the girl''s clutch.

    His face became a mask of sweat as he used up whatever energy he had left to break the deadlock. For her part, the girl continued to look at him with a bored expression, without showing signs of trying the slightest effort.

    She kept watching him with that emotionless stare. It was as if he was completely insignificant to her gaze. He couldn''t accept it.

    But no matter how hard he tried, how much he kept pushing and pushing, the stalemate showed no sign of changing.

    After a few seconds that seemed endless, Zesshi decided that she had enough of this motionless situation. Aeneas felt lifted together with his rod as he was violently thrown against one of the walls that surrounded the arena.

    He felt his bones shatter, his internal organs reduced to a sieve. Why did he keep fighting? Why did he keep getting up? He could no longer remember.

    "I''d say that''s enough, Lady Zesshi. It''s time to stop, before things get bad."

    Cardinal Raymond stepped into their fight. He too only saw him as a loser.

    "No, I can still continue. All this is nothing. Nothing!"

    Zesshi kept looking at him. Why didn''t she say anything? Didn''t he even deserve her mockery?

    The price to pay would not have been too high if he could have caught the sweet taste of victory with his lips.

    If she broke his arms, he would have fought with his legs.

    If she broke his legs, he would have fought with his teeth.

    If she broke his teeth, he would have cursed her with his eyes.

    If she had blinded him, he would have butted his head until it was over.

    His brothers played, and he trained. His sisters were intent on gossiping, and he trained. His peers discovered love, and he trained.

    While he sacrificed himself, the others continued to live. His duty took precedence over his happiness, for this was the destiny that had been forced upon him. This was his fate.

    Just once, if he could hit her just once, he knew he''d win. But she was too fast, how could she be so fast?

    "Again."

    He had been chosen by the Gods. He couldn''t let it end like this.

    His visage was covered in thick, scarlet blood. Was it his? He could no longer figure out where his face began and where the bruises ended.

    "Again."

    He had been chosen by the Gods. Continuing to fight was a moral imperative. Even as his eyes begged him to close in peace.

    Back on the ground, and again, and again. How many times had he ended up in that position now? The butter had more firmness than his legs at that moment.

    "Again."

    He had been chosen by the Gods. He was the chosen one, not her. Him!

    "Again."

    A disgusting liquid was spilled on his face. He repeated what he was ordered to do. "I am garbage, scum, dung."

    "Again."

    He had been chosen by the Gods.

    "Again."

    If only the Gods had chosen someone else.

    "Don''t you think you''ve overdone it, Lady Zesshi?"

    The Cardinal''s voice was filled with apprehension and concern. The young boy''s body was now in a pitiful and unrecognizable state.

    The pus of the blood and the dirt of the urine had transformed those diaphanous and androgen features into a revolt of disgust and repulsion. Even the strongest stomach would have been sickened by that vision.

    "He''ll be fine. The potions are already starting to take effect and the medical team will treat him with the utmost respect. You''ll see, a few days of rest and he''ll be back as strong as before. Only this time, with a much easier-to-handle attitude."

    Raymond seemed unconvinced by her words. He tried not to let her see it, of course. But it was evident that he did not approve of those harsh methods.

    "Okay, maybe I should have avoided making him rinse his face with horse urine. In my defense, I didn''t think you would actually get it for me. But otherwise, I think I behaved as I usually do."

    Antilene said those words more to convince herself than her interlocutor. Watching her opponent''s body being dragged to the infirmary, she couldn''t help but wonder if her superior was right.

    "I don''t remember any training session that ended in such a disastrous way. Even the ones that Aeneas'' father and I had to face were not resolved with so much bloodshed."

    "It was different then. You weren''t so full of yourself. It was a necessary measure for his future and the success of the special operations that await him."

    "Are you sure about that?"

    The half-elf saw her victim once again in her mind. His long black hair was the only detail left almost immaculate from that carnage. Almost. Long, silky black hair. More like those of a grown woman, a familiar woman, than a boy who had just entered the age of youth.

    "Yes, I''m sure of it. But perhaps I''d better go see him after he''s recovered."

    Maybe things hadn''t started in the best way, but there was still a chance to fix it.

    Getting off on the wrong foot did not imply that the rest of the trip would be disastrous.

    "I think it''s a good idea, but give him time to rest and clear his head."

    "You are right, I''d better give him some space."

    "Now I''d better go. Thank you very much for the help you have given us. If we need your assistance again, I will let you know as soon as possible. Now, allow me to leave, Lady Zesshi. Mandatory commitments await me."

    "Sure, don''t worry. If you need my assistance, you know where to find me."

    The Cardinal made a sumptuous bow before withdrawing from her presence. The decorum shown to her always embarrassed the half-elf, but by now it was so integrated into her daily life that it was quite natural for Antilene to know how to react to that unmotivated devotion.

    She accepted the greeting given with reverence and, after parting, decided to return to her rooms.

    It was night now.

    After relaxing with a regenerating hot bath and eliminating the unbearable smell of sweat and dirt that enveloped her, she decided to take advantage of a moment of relaxation to observe the night outside the cathedral.

    From the windows of the room, the stars in the sky were clearly visible. The constellations drew representations in the vault of the firmament.

    If I remember correctly, the one to the southwest should be the constellation of the beetle. While the one with which it crosses is the one called the door of Imirduo. The autumnal equinox has begun.

    Antilene poured herself a glass of goat milk. Despite the exercise in the evening, she wasn''t very hungry. The girl limited herself to munching on some chocolate biscuits that were in the pantry to feel satisfied.

    So alone¡­

    The silence of the room was particularly suffocating, a child of the solitude that persisted in the place.

    Rufus is busy writing the last chronicles, I don''t think I should go and disturb him.

    Carefully placed on a chest in the living room, there was the blue flower ornament she used to wear.

    Aunty Nazaire was so skilled with making homemade items, it would be really nice to find someone as capable as her for making new accessories.

    The indigo fabric with which it had been embroidered slipped between her fingers, the sensation to the touch was sweet and satisfying, like caressing the petals of a real flower.

    Whenever I feel upset, nothing can make me relax like holding this fake flower in my hands. Maybe Cardinal Raymond was right, I went too far. Tomorrow, I''ll make it up to him.

    Antilene extinguished the candles that lit the room to walk towards her bed. Sunken in the blankets, it took very little to let herself be pampered by the sheets before entering the realm of dreams.

    Upper Earth Month, 10th day, 7.00

    The following morning, she found Aeneas still in bed in the Cathedral infirmary. It was usually used by members of Black Scripture after a particularly grueling workout, and therefore the equipment present was comparable to that of a small hospital.

    Coupled with the fact that some of the nation''s best healers were priests serving in the sacred church, that was one of the best places in the capital to receive much-needed medical care.

    The boy had been scrubbed from top to bottom, his armor stripped off and replaced with a more comfortable nightgown.

    His long hair flowed down his cheeks, swaying back and forth as he moved his face in no particular direction.

    His gaze was fixed on nothing, lifeless. It resembled that of a newly formed zombie looking around for some hidden meaning to its existence.

    He''s still shaken by what happened yesterday, it seems. Maybe I should stop by at another time, but I''m here now, so I might as well stay.

    "Hey there, how are you?"

    As soon as he noticed the girl, Aeneas was tinged with terror. His irises widened like the door to a pleasure house on a holiday. The young man pulled up the covers as if they would offer him absolute protection, similar to a reinforced wall of a castle, against her.

    "Please go away!"

    Better than I expected.

    "I just want to talk; I don''t want to hurt you. I promise!"

    "What do you want?"

    "First, why don''t you pull down those covers? Don''t you think you''re too old to play forts with sheets?"

    Aeneas was hesitant, but after a fast look at the half-elf, convinced himself.

    "Okay, okay. But don''t think I''ll be caught off guard."

    He still has a shred of fighting strength. Good!

    "I made this for you. Why don''t you take some?"

    Antilene offered the boy a small basket containing a tempting apple pie. Its aroma spread in the air, and a smell of cinnamon and lemon surrounded the room.

    "Did you make it yourself?"

    "Let''s say that I found the fastest way to reach the pastry shop that cooked it. It''s truly delicious, trust me!"

    Aeneas grabbed a hesitant slice, still uncertain about the genuineness of that gesture. The delicate flavor of the swallowed bite, however, had to make him change his mind. The sugar that melted in his mouth brought a pinch of good humor to the boy.

    "Good, right? When I''m down in the dumps, few things comfort me like a piece of pie."

    The young man said nothing. The silence began to get awkward.

    "Who are you actually?"

    It wasn''t the question she would have preferred to start with, but Antilene still considered it a victory.

    "Well, let''s say I''m a Godkin, just like you."

    "You are not a Godkin. Not a normal one at least. Neither my father nor Cardinal Carnesio were in the slightest on your level."

    "And yet, I assure you that I speak the truth. I¡­ I am an awakened Godkin, nothing more."

    "Then how are you so strong?"

    His tone was uncertain as if he was still afraid to speak to her. Considering the situation, it was comprehensively normal.

    Antilene tried to appear as affable as possible in his eyes, modulating the tone of her voice to convey an air of trustworthiness even if she was uncertain of the results.

    "I do not know. Destiny, I believe."

    "Destiny, huh?"

    Aeneas''s expression grew even more downcast. As was to be expected, the half-elf had not guessed the most appropriate answer to the situation.

    "Look," he said, watching what was left of the slice of the pie begin to crumble. "You fought with my father, didn''t you? He too had to undergo the same," he hesitated. "Test."

    The relationship between the girl and the previous captain could certainly not be defined with a broader definition of cordial. In fact, the man tended to avoid her as much as possible. Like many others.

    "If you think you let him down as he watches you from Surshana''s realm, you don''t have to worry. Like you, your father too tasted defeat for the first time thanks to my hands."

    "Why didn''t he ever tell me about you?"

    "They have already explained the reasons to you. My very existence is a secret that cannot be divulged to the outside world, or we risk waging war with the remnants of the True Dragons Lords."

    Aeneas didn''t seem very convinced by her statement, but he tried to hide it. To the half-elf''s attentive eye, however, his discomfort was evident.

    The imperceptible movements of his arm, his lips closing with difficulty, the rapid breathing. Every little detail did not escape the girl''s attentive gaze.

    After years of dealing with human beings of all kinds, Antilene had learned to recognize signs normally irrelevant to ordinary men, which, however, to a well-trained eye like hers revealed all the discomfort they felt deep down when they had to deal with the half-elf.

    It was something she had gotten used to by now.

    "I am the last of seven siblings," continued the new Captain of the Black Scriptures. "I have a total of three brothers and three sisters. But only my blood has awakened. A miracle, they called me. The rising star of the Theocracy, destined to lead our glorious nation to greatness!"

    He devoured the piece of cake that still rested in his hand with a single mouthful.

    "Since I was born, I have trained to be able to fulfill what I believed was my destiny. And I thought¡­ I thought that was my path. But you, you completely destroyed my every dream and hope. I''m just an empty shell now."

    "You are not empty." The extra seat replied. "Not at all. You have passed the test and are now ready to assume your position as the shield of humanity. If you hadn''t learned the humility that comes with defeat, you would never have been ready to venture into the outside world."

    "Why are you trying to comfort me?"

    Antilene also grabbed a piece of cake from the basket. Not that she craved to taste it, but needed to take her time and that seemed like the most natural gesture at the moment.

    Why was she doing this? It would have done her no good to commit such a trivial deed. Still, part of her believed that this was the right thing to do.

    "Now we are colleagues. And as your senior, it''s my exact duty to coach you for the future. I wasn''t very good with your predecessor, or the other predecessors for that matter, but there''s always a first time, right?"

    "And then," she continued, "you remind me of someone important to me. Someone I still can''t relate to sincerely."

    "I''m not very convinced."

    Fair.

    "You will soon be. Trust me."

    "How can I know you''re telling the truth?"

    The half-elf barely held back a bitter laugh.

    "You cannot."

    Now it was she who felt slightly embarrassed. The part of the older colleague was a role she didn''t feel quite right yet.

    Nonetheless, Antilene could not continue to run away from her responsibilities. The growth of that promising young man was part of her duties. She couldn''t beat him like a sack of grain and then leave him alone to his fate. Maybe.

    "You are not a normal human being, are you? Not just the part about being descended from the Gods, I mean."

    "True."

    "Would you like to tell me your story? Um, if you like, of course."

    But look, he''s already starting to act more polite than before. Maybe I have to go that heavy more often.

    "Of course. But for now, think about resting. You don''t believe that your training is already over, do you? We still have many things to practice. And, oh, there''s another very special person you''re going to meet. Yes, there are numerous scheduled engagements waiting for you."

    "I will do my best not to disappoint you, Lady Zesshi."

    He seemed to have calmed down. Antilene thought that perhaps she wasn''t as bad at cheering people up as she thought she was, after all.

    "I''m sure. Now, I''ll leave you alone. Think about what we said and get a good night''s sleep."

    As the half-elf came out of the infirmary the sun began to rise, its rays bringing new heat to the immense Cathedral.

    A new dawn was about to be born.

 Chap 12: Drums of war

    Cap 12

    Drums of war

    Lower Wind Month, 12th day, 03.00

    "So, what''s the situation?"

    A group of hooded figures moved carefully through a dense forest.

    The vegetation provided natural protection, while a man placed in front of the others gave tight indications for exploration. The croaking of some small birds hidden in the fronds drowned out the sound of their footsteps.

    "The scouts we sent ahead detected a small camp no less than five kilometers from our current position."

    One of the men presents addressed his leader, answering the question with the punctuality of a Cathedral clock.

    The man in charge of that expedition wore the same dark uniform as his subordinates, adorned with a small white cloak, ideal for blending into the night and for escaping the gaze of more attentive foes.

    Unlike the others, he didn''t wear a mask that hid his features, showing off his face immaculate from dirt and mud, an unusual detail for the place where he was, decorated with eyes as black as pitch. Closed the picture of short platinum blond hair, practically shaved.

    Nigun Grid Luin, captain of the Sunlight Scriptures, had a mission to accomplish and he would not let anyone or anything stand in his way.

    "Is Ian''s group in position? We will attack before dawn breaks, making the most of the surprise effect."

    His orders rang out with clarity and precision, instilling the utmost confidence in the other explorers; since he had been chosen to fill that delicate position, never once had he let himself be overcome by discouragement and uncertainty. Alaf Alah surely guided his hand, which acted as a medium of his will.

    To fulfill the task entrusted to him by the Cardinals, if not by the Gods themselves, a firm mind and absolute confidence in one''s actions were necessary. Quality that he had cultivated with the utmost devotion over the years, and that he was confident he had refined as much as possible.

    "Yes, sir. If Cerabrate''s team with the queen''s troops has arrived, we will be able to squeeze our opponents in pincers without giving them time to react. The acolytes of the end should also be with them." Answered one of his subordinates.

    The Sunlight Scriptures had the sacred task of exterminating all enemies of the human race. Each of his men fulfilled his duty with the utmost dedication; trained to the limit of their abilities, they constituted one of the elite groups within the Theocracy.

    Yet they alone would not be enough to repel the hordes of demihumans hurling themselves upon the Draconic Realm.

    Not only could their adversaries boast stronger physiques and greater natural abilities, but they also had considerable numbers at their disposal.

    Furthermore, and this was the thing that more than any other could have shaken the conviction of someone less confident in their abilities, they had very little information on the military and organizational structure of that demi-humans population.

    Usually, the demihumans who lived within the human kingdoms could not boast great levels of civilization and development, thanks also to the incessant work of their glorious motherland.

    Instead, now they found themselves absolutely in the dark as to what the real capabilities of the enemies were.

    The few preliminary skirmishes they''d had so far hadn''t revealed any particular distinguishing marks from the Beastmen he was used to. But to think that the situation would go on like this indefinitely could have turned out to be a fatal mistake.

    Thankfully, they were not the only Theocracy group there, though Nigun could not honestly claim to sympathize with his "associates".

    "We will arrive calmly in a few hours at the place designated for the start of our assault, prepare yourselves as best you can. Your equipment and body must be flawless, and your mind steady and flexible to face the battle."

    The others gave a subtle nod of assent, to show that they understood. They didn''t know if there were any enemy scouts around, so the Sunlight Scripture kept their bravery and confidence to a minimum to avoid unwanted attention.

    That would be the first real battle they had to face since the beginning of their expedition.

    From what their scouts had detected, the demihumans had begun to settle in strategic points at the limit of the Gamart forest, taking advantage of the scarce human presence in those areas.

    If they hadn''t struck in advance and prevented them from firmly establishing what until a few months ago had been only concentrated raids, the situation would have quickly turned into a full war of occupation.

    And at that point, there would have been nothing left for the Draconic Kingdom to do, at least not without their help.

    I''m glad the adamantine team, Crystal Tear, joined this raid. With their help winning this little quarrel shouldn''t be too difficult.

    It could not be said that Nigun had any sympathy for the leader of that group of adventurers, but he had to admit that the man''s abilities were well above the norm, and he had been instrumental in defending the reign from those herds of beasts.

    Arriving at the desired location, a secluded clearing a few kilometers away from the target, preparations began.

    At the time the fortifications of the camp were still being prepared, the walls had been built to about the middle and were not very thick. On the other hand, the guards posted in some observation towers at the corners of the structure seemed very alert and ready to raise the alarm at the first moment.

    The group led by Cerabrate should go into action in a few minutes. Once the opponents'' attention is focused on him, our angels will be able to wreak havoc among their ranks.

    In all, their assault team consisted of three units. The group led by Crystal Tear would have attacked frontally bringing the clash to the gates of the fortification.

    Taking advantage of the confusion, the groups led by him and Ian would launch an offensive to the rear to trap them in a horror of blaze and flames.

    One¡­two¡­three¡­

    Nigun began to take a deep breath to ease his nerves. His nostrils began to spread fiercely as his gaze was focused on his target.

    "Prepare your summons and send a [Message] to the main group! The show will start soon!" He said to one man near him.

    A swarm of Archangel Flames began appearing in the clearing. The metallic gleam of their bodies reflected the dawn light with a majestic and overwhelming intensity, capturing the dawn colors in a swirl of wonder and splendor.

    Suddenly, a dazzling light appeared before their eyes. The signal that the attack had begun. The gate of the fortification collapsed under the blows of the leader of Crystal Tear while the sentries posted on the walls began to sound the alarm.

    A hundred troops of the Draconic Kingdom quickly burst into the camp and began to wreak havoc on the still-sleeping enemy soldiers. But they weren''t alone.

    Flanking them was a shapeless mass of undead bringing a stench of death and despair into the quarters. Skeletal soldiers, zombies, bone vultures, and skeleton centipedes were controlled by a small group of enchanters who remained on the sidelines, dressed in spartan black robes that completely covered their features. Medallions engraved with Surshana''s symbol were the most striking detail of their garments.

    The Beastmen, not expecting such full-blown aggression, especially from undead beings, gathered their forces to counter their offensive.

    A group of anthropomorphic creatures resembling bears, tigers, lions, and other filthy beasts covered with armors of the best workmanship lined up in front of their enemies, but the group led by Cerabrate broke through their formation with not too many difficulties.

    Meanwhile, the undead began to disperse across the field, attacking the enemy troops still intent on preparing for battle. The hosts of Beastmen were seized with terror as these unexpected horrors surrounded them.

    Astounded by the skill displayed by the men, what appeared to be the commander, a titanic-sized man-elephant, urged his troops to regroup.

    "Sentinels, gather here! Don''t let them penetrate any deeper." He screamed angrily, letting his thundering voice be heard at every corner. The sentries posted on the other sides of the fortification began to concentrate on the point where the attack had started.

    Under his leadership, the battalions regained their courage, showing the prowess and fortitude that distinguished his people. The fate of the battle began to rebalance into a stalemate, in which neither side was able to prevail.

    "Don''t let fear take you! No hesitation! The Negus will reward each of you!"

    A group of stagtron armed with hollowed wooden bows began to fire a barrage of sharp arrows. Their branchy, deciduous horns vibrated with the shooting of arrows.

    However, the soldiers of the Draconic Kingdom were veterans of many battles, the elite of the elite, and were responsive in raising their shields and parrying that storm without suffering significant losses.

    In the rear, some magic casters began to unleash spells such as [Fireball] and [Lightning], which wreaked havoc among the demihumans stationed on the walls before they could launch a counter-offensive.

    After just a few minutes, the turmoil that characterizes war began to set in.

    "Forward, for our beloved queen! As long as I''m here, you''ll have nothing to fear!"

    Cerabrate cheered on his companions vigorously. His charisma shone like his beautiful face. The platinum-colored armor soared with the grace of a fairy among enemies.

    Seeing him at work, the nickname "Fierce Flash" was fully justified. Anyone who met his enchanted sword found themselves maimed without even realizing what was happening.

    Shooting like lightning, Crystal Tear''s leader drew a flash of energy in a triangular shape. Blood began to pour over his well-built body, not affecting its perfection. Two lion men armed with long, thick spears tried to halt his advance, being sliced with a sharp slash by his blade.

    His muscles were in fibrillation, quick and concise movements proving to be part of a well-conceived death project; the other members of his team followed in concert to his rhythm, flaunting a ballet of slaughter.

    "Now, let''s go too!"

    Coming out of their hiding place, the captain and the rest of the Sunlight Scriptures poured into the sides of the enemy formation.

    The Archangel Flames flew over the small fortress, splitting into two groups. While one began to clear away the archers posted on the walls, the other attacked the main force of Beastmen from the rear in perfect coordination. The turmoil had now reached high levels: a fuss of dirt and mud, blood and flesh, rose to the sky like a desperate hymn of glory.

    Meanwhile, Nigun and his men cast spells to create a breach in the walls. It didn''t take them long to break through the defenses and join their fellows of the Draconic Kingdom.

    The knights and paladins of his unit began to surround the other Beastmen, locking them in a death grip. Surrounded on all sides, it became increasingly difficult for them to defend themselves against the attacks, and gradually began to fall like inanimate puppets, one after another.

    The big Elephantman was amazed to find himself with a new group of assailants, but he didn''t panic. Activating a martial art, he broke through the defenses of the summons with the large sharp hammer he held as a weapon.

    The commander is much stronger than the average soldier. It will be a hassle to get rid of him.

    Nigun calmly analyzed the situation, even if the antagonist lord seemed to have no difficulty in facing their angels, the same could not be said for the other members of his commando.

    In fact, most of the other enemy soldiers couldn''t keep up with the attack of the summons and the knights at the same time. While they may have had a numerical advantage, to begin with, the tide now seemed to have tipped in humanity''s favor.

    Meanwhile, Ian''s group had also followed the example of the main team and had entered the center of the battle, correspondingly invoking their trusted Archangel Flames.

    Thanks to their extraordinary physical defenses, the summons favored by the Sunlight Scriptures proved to be the perfect nemesis for the Beastmen, who specialized above all in a physical confrontation. The magic casters they had with them were far from numerous and not on the level of the Scripture''s members.

    The walls were now under their control: from an elevated position, some spellcasters of the Theocracy''s special unit began to target the opponents'' battalions with magical arrows and other incantations.

    "Are you all right, Captain? It seems that things are going well."

    Ian approached him with a smile full of satisfaction on his face. His carefree attitude even in the most critical situations was a great source of comfort for Nigun. Someone to counterbalance his seriousness was imperative to keeping morale up.

    "Don''t let your guard down. It is not finished yet." Nigun answered, with his gaze fixed on the source of his concern.

    Indeed, the battle was far from being over. The Beastmen Lord continued to mangle his troops, reinvigorating the morale of the fellow soldiers.

    The other men began to keep out of range of his hammer, to avoid being smashed to the ground and become new nourishment for the soil.

    "So, none of you want to face me face-to-face?!" Its long trunk bellowed a battle cry, causing a hint of fear in the knights of the Draconic Kingdom and Theocracy.

    At the same time, the demihumans were invigorated and fought back even more ferociously than before. If things continued like this, Nigun understood that they risked losing their advantage.

    "Ian!"

    "Yes, Captain?"

    "You know what to do."

    Ian didn''t have to listen to it twice. At his signal, a flock of angels poured upon the opposing leader; at least ten of them drew their flaming blades to find a breach in his battle position.

    "[Crushing Hammer] [Body Strengthen]." The Elephant man shattered three of them with one sweep of the big hammer, grabbing a fourth with his powerful hands which he crumbled into a thousand pieces with little effort.

    The fifth and sixth attempted to penetrate his thick armor, fiery sparks erupted on impact, but the damage was non-existent. In contrast, an unstoppable charge swept them away like a storm topples a crumbling house.

    "Now I will¡­Ugh"

    Before the lord could resume his offensive, a searing pain gripped him. Cerabrate had inserted his weapon with surgical precision into an exposed area of the neck. Blood flowed profusely from the wound.

    "Coward! Infamous! You are not worthy of being called a warrior!"

    Staggering, the commander expressed his contempt for the holy warrior. Cerabrate just looked at him smugly, without even responding to his accusations.

    His sword lit up with a dazzling energy that directed its brilliance at its new victim. His hits were deflected with difficulty by the Beastman, whose breath was starting to fade.

    One. Two. Three. Four. Each new blow became faster and more violent.

    It was admirable to see how ferociously the elephant-like leader managed to assert himself, even in such critical conditions. Putting himself in an offensive position, he was about to try his hand at a heavy overhead maul, using his mighty war mallet.

    "Ian, let''s strike now!"

    Nigun and his deputy cast the [Lightning] and [Thunder Arrows] spells hitting the lord''s legs. The adversary fell to the ground on his knees, in distress.

    Cerabrate took the opportunity to cut off his hands holding the imposing hammer. The weapon collapsed to the ground, causing a frightening thud that echoed in the surroundings.

    The remaining Flame Archangels speared the defenseless body like a skewer. The lord''s flesh was cut slowly, with a mechanical and inhuman ruthlessness. Their swords tore apart with inhuman diligence every smallest part of their target.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    They weren''t the only ones: a handful of zombies took advantage of the beast lord''s weakness to start feasting on his helpless body, sinking their teeth and claws into his organs.

    The Beastman screamed and cried and yelled and shouted even louder, as the fire from the swords seared the inside of his body. The movements of the angels were so perfect in penetrating the interior of his flesh to cause maximum suffering, that every additional moment of life was an insufferable curse.

    His piercing shrieks of misery were a symphony like any of the finest musician''s compositions to Nigun, who gritted his teeth in delight.

    "Yes, that''s how it should be. The garbage is cleaned up from our world for the creation of a fertile paradise. Today the Gods admire our work!"

    The joy of being able to do the work of the Gods on earth filled his soul with pride. His spirit was swayed with a mystical and invigorating ecstasy, as if he had been cradled by Alah Alaf himself.

    "See Ian, see? This is what happens to anyone who tries to stand up to us!"

    His vice-captain said nothing, intent on scanning the scene of horror before his eyes.

    "Do not lower your gaze, as ours is a work of justice. I know it looks revolting, but we must keep our nerves if we are to fulfill our sacred duty."

    "Yes, Captain Nigun!"

    Ian kept his head fixed on the chilling vision, obviously uncomfortable. It didn''t matter, in time he would lose the hesitation that comes with youth.

    Like him, all the other participants in the battle had stopped momentarily, immobilized by that atrocious spectacle that was taking place in their presence.

    How long did it last? It didn''t matter. When they were done no one dared move.

    The remains of the body were quickly devoured by the undead, who after finishing their disgusting meal, turned their attention back on the surviving soldiers as if nothing had happened.

    Some of them endeavored to resist, in vain, but the majority of Beastmen threw down their weapons, utterly defeated and devoured of hope. By now there were not many survivors left and, without their commander, the remainants realized that they no longer had any hope.

    "We give up. Promise us not to harm us and we will end hostilities!" Pleaded one of them, her head touching the ground.

    "What a pathetic action!" thought Nigun. It didn''t matter how much they begged. There was no chance they could be spared.

    "Men!" Now he was at the center stage. The light of heaven irradiated his person with an otherworldly mysticism. Another sign of his good work. "Show them what their companions have shown our fellow humans when they pleaded for mercy!" A clear image materialized in the minds of those present. "You know how to proceed!"

    They would have left a couple alive to extract information from them. But for the rest¡­

    The battle was over. The massacre was about to begin.

    Lower Wind Month, 27th day, 20.00

    "How boring!" Antilene ran a hand through her hair, looking for any pastime that could put an end to that torture.

    Hours and hours and hours spent standing guard in that huge treasure hall. Not a movement, not any hint of life. Of life, yes.

    "Are you getting bored?" Rufus asked her. The patron deity was intent on polishing Nekole''s sacred armor with the utmost care, under his vision not even a speck of dust would have managed to infiltrate its joints.

    "There is nothing interesting to do here. I''m not complaining, but it would be nice to pass a different day than usual, every now and then." The half-elf answered detachedly. By now, she knew every little nook and cranny of the treasury inside out. The numerous sacred objects held no more secrets for her, nor could the weapons of the Gods be wielded with any more ease than they did now.

    "Patience is a virtue to be cultivated. Though I imagine your complaints aren''t entirely unfounded." Her master kept turning his eyes ¨C the gems - in the direction of the divine armor.

    Antilene would have sworn that he was able to see the reflection of his mask in the clear and clean white of the protection.

    "Aeneas is out on a mission and won''t be coming here for another while. And the other Black Scripture members who stayed in the capital don''t tend to come to this place."

    "You yearn for their company, then?" Asked Rufus with genuine curiosity.

    "Actually, not much. I can hardly remember their names; I don''t think we would have much to discuss. But still better than staying bored in this monotonous place."

    Aeneas was the only one to arouse a minimum of interest among her colleagues, but even he was not the greatest of fun. In fact, the new captain had gone from one extreme to the other. The once arrogant little boy had been quickly replaced by a diligent, devoted, serious young man.

    Maybe too serious. A great result, she had to admit. But it could hardly be considered the outcome that provided the most entertainment.

    "Is my company not enough for you? I will arrange to let others provide for your education, in this case." retorted her mentor.

    Antilene would bet that a sardonic smile was hidden behind that jeweled mask of his. An undead with a sense of humor, splendid.

    "Master, no; Rufus. We''ve known each other so long I might be able to tell when you''re joking even with my ears plugged."

    "And who says I was joking?"

    "I see you are bored too."

    Rufus just shrugged, not giving too much weight to the girl''s words. After having finished contemplating his work, he made his way slipping like an eel towards his desk, from which he took out a series of documents.

    "To get serious, I want you to read this."

    "What is it about?"

    "It regards you know who." Despite the cryptic nature of the answer, the half-elf knew very well who her preceptor was referring to.

    "This report says here that the king left the capital for the first time in ten years. But he did not collide with any deployment of our army."

    That her father left the royal palace was unusual. That he moved away from his city was even more strange. The rare occasions he''d done anything like this, in those long years of war, he had been motivated by intent to remind the Theocracy''s troops of his overwhelming superiority over them.

    But this time he seemed to have something different in mind.

    "Do you have any clue as to the reasons that led him so far from his home?"

    "The scouts have lost track of him in the heart of the forest. As you well know, that place is teeming with terrible creatures, many still unknown to us. And they didn''t dare to venture into the darkness of the fronds."

    And those were supposed to be humanity''s best soldiers. Cowards.

    "So, we have no idea what really happened?"

    "No, but we have some theories about it. There''s actually something we fear more than others, the hope is that it''s not true."

    "What is it about?"

    "The Cardinals think there has been a meeting with a possible Argland cell inside the forest to forge an alliance."

    It wasn''t the first time that Antilene had heard of a phantom spy network inside Evasha in the pay of the Council State. But over the years, as far as she could recall, the theocracy agents only gathered some circumstantial evidence that hadn''t turned out to be conclusive.

    "If true, what could this mean?"

    Rufus adjusted the folds of his robe, showing his hands covered with fine silver gloves.

    He brought one to his temple, the jewels set inside it shone with a blinding light.

    "We should propose a truce, at least temporarily. With the situation in the Draconic Kingdom increasingly tense, we cannot afford to support two such dangerous fronts at the same time."

    "You can''t be serious! After all these years, are you going to rob me of my revenge? I can''t accept that, Rufus! I cannot!"

    Wrath began to leak from Antilene''s voice; even though her body remained stiff as a piece of marble, she felt fury begin to take hold of her whole being.

    Just when they were so close to the goal, would they give up everything? What about her mother''s wish? What about her wish? Even if she had to act without the support of the Theocracy, she would have accomplished the task. Of that she was certain.

    Because¡­because it was what she wanted from the depth of her heart.

    "Calm! For now, these are only speculations, devoid of concreteness. For all we know, he may have headed to procreate with a horrifying creature with almost anthropomorphic features, in search of his perfect heir."

    It wouldn''t be so strange, the girl thought with a hint of malice.

    "In any case," he continued, "the end of the war does not mean that the king will be able to escape his fate. We''ll just have to act more carefully."

    "What do you believe? Was there in reality an alliance between Argland and Evasha?" The half-elf asked, her anger not quite appeased yet, but no longer about to erupt.

    "It''s hard to say. The diplomatic interactions that they have exercised in recent years on the Kingdom of Re-Estize demonstrate a propensity to act as antagonists towards us. But it''s also true that it doesn''t seem like the Platinum Dragon Lord''s modus operandi to come to terms with a peculiar...personality like your father."

    The son of the Dragon Emperor. Antilene had heard that name mentioned countless times, but without ever fully understanding the extent of its influence. The bogeyman of the Theocracy, worry alone of how he might react had greatly limited their activities over the years.

    "Are you sure he still leads the ranks of the nation he founded? As far as I know, he hasn''t been recorded in the outside world for years."

    Rufus was uncertain how to answer her. "No, as you correctly stated, he seems to have locked himself away in his flying castle for ages, which he never leaves to guard. Nonetheless, we can''t bet on his inactivity. A conflict with him will result in the end of our sacred nation."

    "I don''t understand why he should react to seeing me settle the score with my parent. Or rather, I understand but find it unfair that he meddles in things that concern my family."

    What could that overgrown lizard and its ilk possibly care about what was, from Antilene''s point of view, only private matters? Was it possible that her mere existence constituted such a great risk to them that it prompted Tsaindorcus Vaision and his kind to act as soon as the opportunity arose?

    "I understand your resentment, but your safety is top priority. I won''t let you waste your life for no reason."

    "I know, Rufus."

    "Besides, it''s almost a year away now. Just one year, and there could be another aftershock. Thinking that it will be a century as peaceful as the previous one could prove foolish and imprudent."

    "What if it happens again?"

    She found it hard to believe that every century there could be a risk that an event could occur with the potential to upset the fate of the world. But more than a generation of Cardinals had been apprehensive to remind her of that possibility.

    And Rufus himself was convinced of the existence of the phenomenon.

    "So," Rufus looked into her eyes, the diamonds of his mask gave life to a kaleidoscope of lights reflecting in the half-elf''s irises "fulfilling your mother''s ambition won''t be such a distant dream anymore. Not much longer to wait, I swear."

    "Every day it gets harder to wait." Impatience was a bad adviser, but it knew how to charm even the most calm personalities. "I just want to end this story; only then will I be satisfied."

    "Will you really be satisfied?"

    Antilene did not answer. How could she answer a question they both knew the answer to?

    "I wish you a good night, master. See you early in the morning."

    Rufus for a moment seemed unable to think of anything convincing to say. Only one sentence of circumstance was uttered.

    "Sweet dreams, Antilene. I''ll wait for you at dawn. Same place, same story."

    Lower Wind Month, 28th day, 22.00

    A dim and suffused light breathed delicately in the office of the Cardinal of the earth. The flames of the candles crackled steadily as they brought a breath of light into the room.

    Seated at a large carved oak desk, Raymond was poring over some reports.

    Though the day was nearing its end, his work was far from finished. Sipping a cup of bitter coffee to keep himself awake, he considered the contents of the package he was examining.

    According to the words of Commander Valente, our advance in the forest of Evasha has slowed down. Strange tree-like creatures have hit some of our rear lines and wreaked havoc on supplies.

    Even that year the progress made in the conflict had been very little; they had gained a few kilometers of territory, insignificant for their plan of advance, and captured elves who had poured into the slave markets of neighboring nations.

    How many years now was that seemingly endless war going on? Since he was a child, it was considered by the citizens of the Theocracy a fact, an immutable event that was part of everyday life, like religious celebrations and holidays.

    But at the same time, a drain of their resources and lives.

    Were our predecessors trying to win when they started this fight? The more time passes, the less I am convinced.

    Not that perpetual war didn''t have its advantages, however cynical that statement might sound.

    In addition to the slave trade, it was the perfect training ground to test new army recruits. After all, the elven army was a loosely organized and underprivileged band incapable of provoking too much damage.

    Before the disciplined troops of the Theocracy, they were a ragtag bunch with no long-term goals, unable to mount an effective defense.

    On the other hand, the forest of Evasha presented insidious and unknown dangers, and the latest news received showed that inside there were still many mysteries that were hidden from the human eye.

    Perhaps that was why they had decided to tread carefully. For this, and fear.

    Dread that the king might take the field. When the time would come, things couldn''t continue in their calm, relaxed fashion.

    The time for her to enact her revenge was getting closer and closer, they couldn''t have stalled much longer.

    "Can I come in?" A friendly voice broke into his thoughts with the tranquility of the sea in the morning.

    "Cardinal Dominic! Please take a seat."

    Dominic Ihre Partouche, Cardinal of the Wind, and his esteemed colleague. He was a man with a heavy and severe face, marked by age, capable of intimidating anyone who stared at him for more than a few seconds.

    His piercing gaze, however much he tried to keep it at bay, could not hide all his devotion and love for the Slaine Theocracy.

    As an old member of the Sunlight Scriptures, his fight against humanity''s enemies had for years been a scourge to countless races of demihumans, his wrath an unstoppable storm that engulfed anyone who threatened his home and people.

    However, to consider him only a victim of his passions would have proved to be a big mistake. A keen and adaptable mind was an indispensable prerequisite to hold the highest position in Slaine''s High Council.

    "I hope I''m not disturbing your work, Raymond. But there are important matters that I wanted to discuss with you face-to-face as soon as possible. Waiting for the next joint session in two weeks would not have been desirable."

    "No, no trouble. Nothing serious, I hope." A visit from one of his colleagues before their usual monthly meeting, while not unusual, was no ordinary occurrence either.

    "No, nothing to worry about. I just wanted to set up some plans for the future with your assistance."

    His calm and relaxed tone lifted a stone from the spirit of the Cardinal of the Earth, other annoyances at the moment would only aggravate the migraine that was starting to appear.

    "Please, take a seat."

    Given the late hour, Raymond had made the service personnel retire while he had decided to stay in the offices to ponder his work again. As a result, he had to arrange for his colleague''s accommodation himself.

    "I hope you don''t mind being surrounded by all this confusion; I haven''t had time to put every single thing in its place yet."

    Usually, his study was the emblem of order and arrangement, but to put every smallest detail of the war and other ongoing operations in its place, he had pulled documents, registers, and chronicles of previous years from the shelves.

    Each order had to take into consideration the many facets not only of today''s situation, but also of those of the past months. The positioning of the troops, the supply lines, the tactics to be used for the advance, and the construction of fortifications and camps.

    He was proud of his memory, which he considered above average, but having at hand everything he needed to review before making a decision on which the lives of agents of the scriptures and countless others might depend was crucial.

    Being wrong was not a luxury he could afford.

    "You have nothing to apologize for, my dear boy. Indeed, it is this old fool who asks you to forgive him after breaking into your quarters without the slightest warning."

    The patronizing and sympathetic tone embarrassed Raymond. Of course, he was the last addition among the Cardinals, but the age difference between the two men was not large enough to justify that behavior.

    In any case, he decided not to give too much weight to it. He knew that Dominic had recently added a pair of splendid grandchildren to his family, and judged that his behavior was caused by his new role.

    Raymond poured them both a cup of steaming coffee which the Cardinal of Wind accepted willingly. The bitter taste of the drink fondled his taste buds, tickling his tongue with acidity.

    "Now, excuse me for cutting to the chase, but what exactly did you come to argue about, if I may ask?"

    Dominic pulled a folder from one of the pockets of his cloak, which he handed gently into Raymond''s hands.

    "Take a look at these documents, please."

    Ordered with methodical precision, four pages of papers headed with the seal of the Earth department had been thrust before his eyes.

    Their content carried out particular information about a certain soldier who had recently joined the ranks of the Theocracy army: his physical characteristics, skills, generalities, and personal history. Every little detail they had managed to capture was contained in that brief summary.

    "Yes, I remember this story. My Vice Cardinal took care of it if I''m not mistaken. The Grand Marshal had brought this recruit to our attention as a fit element for entry into one of the Scriptures."

    "Yes, you remember well, my dear boy," Dominic answered him, starting to place a hand on his temple to think deeply. "Your subordinate, as a matter of practice when it comes to evaluating the entry of a foreigner into our most secret ranks, has subjected him to all sorts of possible examinations to evaluate his abnegation to the cause, and his possible external affiliations."

    "I remember exactly how those tests went. Nothing noteworthy was found. The sincerity of his dedication to our scope had seemed real, and Maximilian had begun to fill out the paperwork for his transfer. I don''t think there''s anything suspicious."

    Bringing a stranger to the dynamics of Theocracy into their special departments was not unexpected news for their organization. Nonetheless, it was advisable to take all the necessary precautions to prevent a spy from infiltrating the most secret places of their sanctuary.

    Obviously, in these cases, it was not only up to the Cardinal in charge of the administration of the Scriptures to evaluate the candidacy; but the files were also delivered to the other dicastery of the Church of the Six Great Gods.

    "You are right." Resumed the Cardinal of Wind. "But that''s where the strangeness of the matter begins. Reread the file carefully, and tell me if there is anything wrong."

    Raymond turned his attention back to that report, this time paying minimal attention to every little detail. He carefully reread every word, every description, looking for something that could be fundamental, and had escaped him on the first reading.

    But he found nothing.

    "Now I understand." He said with an expression full of satisfaction at having solved the mystery. "It''s all too ordinary. Nothing that stands out, nothing that would make this man suspicious."

    "That''s exactly what I wanted you to notice. A year ago, a foreigner came out of nowhere and asked to join our army. So far, we can say that there is nothing strange, there are an infinite number of poor people without art or part of the world that are attracted by the living condition of our nation. But then, after a few months, he excels in numerous battles, displays innate leadership skills, and demonstrates a level of feats that puts him close to the realm of heroes."

    "And then," the Cardinal of Earth continued, following the thread of his companion''s discourse, "an application is made to become part of the Scriptures. Meanwhile, all we can glean of his story are a few accounts from mercenary companies operating in the southern areas, with very little information about him specifically."

    A mercenary usually fought where the pay was highest. Now, surely the soldiers of the Theocracy had more luxuries at their disposal than the common soldiers of neighboring kingdoms.

    But it would not be correct to say that the possibilities for getting rich were beyond comparison.

    More than material wealth, their military found glory in spontaneous self-sacrificing service to the deities.

    If what they had learned about him was true, the chances that a southern man had decided to join their ranks for a discovered love for the Six Great Gods, while not impossible, was still not very likely. Outside of that remote area of the continent, the doctrine had taken little hold elsewhere in the world, even among human nations.

    "Not even the interrogations conducted by the inquisitors revealed anything anomalous. So, either he''s telling the truth and we have nothing to worry about, or someone provided him with the means to be able to prevent our spells from taking effect."

    "What do you think?"

    "First I want to hear your opinion."

    The spells used for the revelation of lies and the discovery of the truth were still far from achieving the optimal result. But without a doubt were the best in the region. Of course, there were less orthodox ways to find out if their suspicions had some claims. But given the high combat potential of that subject, risking antagonizing him for ruminations that could only derive from excessive paranoia would not have been the wisest choice.

    "Are you suggesting that one of our rival nations is behind all this? In order to apply for magical protection beyond our control, extraordinary qualities are required. However, I''m not sure if even the Imperial Magician is capable of such a feat."

    "No, I think we are looking at the situation from the wrong point of view. If we have not detected any spell, there are two possible options: some magical technique that we totally ignore or¡­"

    "You don''t mean that..."

    "Yes, no magic was used to shield him from the effects of our rituals. Mind you, that doesn''t mean that what that man says is necessarily the truth."

    Raymond was doubtful; if what Cardinal Dominic said was true the story became even more bizarre. After all, didn''t that mean there was nothing to worry about?

    The matter had peculiar aspects, but perhaps it was only their increased apprehension that caused them their worries.

    "If that man truly is a spy, who could be the instigators? Our safest choice may be to send him away, or we may assign him to some position to constantly monitor him."

    Cardinal Dominic sipped another cup of tepid coffee. He licked his lips with relish as he prepared his response.

    "You are the commander of the scriptures, and the final choice is yours. But, if I may give you a suggestion, assign it as vanguard to Sunlight Scripture. The commander informed me the other day that the situation at the Draconic Kingdom is getting complicated."

    Generally, Sunlight Scriptures were equipped only with magic casters, but for some more sensitive missions, some support troops composed of knights and melee combat militia were provided for aid.

    Raymond knew that the advance of the Beastmen was becoming more ruthless and consistent every day, and additional help would not be unwelcome.

    Had their supposed mole turned out to be a traitor, he would still have rendered a noteworthy service. And being away from the country, under constant surveillance by some of their most loyal men, he wouldn''t have been able to collect much sensitive data.

    "Take full advantage of it, while at the same time keeping it under control. It seems to be the safest route."

    "I''m glad you agree with me. I''ll leave the preparation of the details to you. Now, with permission, I''ll leave you to your business. I hope to hear a full report at the next meeting."

    Dominic got up from the skinny chair to get close to walking out of the room. Placing the green cape on his shoulders, his footsteps echoed slowly in the surroundings.

    "It will be my pleasure to provide for you. I send you my greetings, Cardinal."

    After his interlocutor had left the room, Raymond took a last look at this new task.

    I''m curious to find out what kind of man you are, Gazef Stronoff.

 Chap 13: Weight of the crown

    CAP 13: The Weight of the crown.

    Lower Wind Month, 28th day, 20.00

    Antilene passed through the small door that led into the quarters of the Cathedral of Darkness.

    Rufus'' words kept echoing in her head. Could she say with certainty that what her old master had said was a lie? Was it hers, the desire to kill the Elves King? Or her mother''s?

    After all, what did she know about her father? Could she be sure that he deserved death just because that was what had been instilled in her from childhood? The stories about him bordered on horror tales, but were they true? Or just silly propaganda that had been instilled in her from childhood?

    She did not doubt the Cardinals, the Pontifex, or her teacher. Not yet. But that man so distant was the only vaguely family-like thing she had left. Didn''t he at least deserve a chance?

    Until recently, she would not have hesitated to say no. Yet, in recent times, she could not help but have doubts.

    Could she split that bond without batting the slightest eyelash, letting the ancient rage of a corpse now buried underground in the capital dictate her actions?

    No matter how hard she tried to search within herself for an answer to her questions, the only person she could think of was her. Her mother.

    Faine''s stern face, looking at her without love, devoid of any form of affection. Bringing her a smile was the only thing that could keep Antilene going, even if it was too late.

    Even if she was gone now. Forever.

    Browsing here and there among the various rooms in a bored manner, she looked for something to relieve her tedium and banish from her mind those intrusive thoughts. The sound of her footsteps echoing in the marble corridors was the only company in those dark chambers.

    The assignments for today are over. Let''s see if anything is interesting to do before we call it a day. Staying alone now would be¡­unpleasant.

    Positioned near the staff quarters, among the higher parts of the church, were numerous recreational spaces for the fulfillment of a variety of activities. Not only the body, but also the mind required continuous stimulation for the perfecting of humanity''s heroes.

    Last time I went to the library to browse through some old yellowed chronicles. Now maybe I could pop into the dining lounge, and see if there is anyone there to chat with.

    Usually, at that hour it was rare to find anyone staying longer than necessary in those halls. But the alternatives were not all that great, and in the worst-case scenario, the half-elf would simply return to her apartment to prepare for the night.

    Indeed, a more than familiar occurrence in the life of the Black Scripture ace.

    However, that evening the spectacle before Antilene''s eyes was different from the ordinary.

    A graceful maiden was sitting at one of the room''s spacious tables. She wore a wide pleated red skirt, an hakama, accompanied by a spacious white tunic decorated with the symbols of the Six Great Gods.

    The sleeves of the thin garment were broadly spacious and adorned with dark-colored features. On her feet, she wore socks formed of two flaps of non-stretchy cloth with an opening at the back to allow the foot to slide in and buttons to close the opening.

    Resting on her head, there rested a crown on which were scattered countless small pearls along a golden thread, as thin as if it had been woven by a spider. In the center of the tiara, at the point in contact with the forehead, was set a large pitch-black crystal.

    The girl looked around with a lost stare, as if unaware of what was happening in her surroundings.

    Accompanying her on either side were four paladins equipped with some of the best weaponry in the Theocracy: full body armor with weapons of the finest refinement laying at their waists.

    They stood like statues, monitoring her every slightest movement, not that there was really any need to.

    The young woman was almost immobile, as if she had been the victim of some paralyzing spell, similar to a valuable doll being locked up in a display case, for all to admire.

    In front of her there was another woman, judging by her appearance much older than the first one, handing her a portion of steaming soup.

    The old lady''s face was well nourished and radiated a motherly smile, capable of putting anyone who observed it at ease.

    "A little effort, Celeste. Just a small bite, do it for me."

    Celeste, that was the girl''s name, continued to look at the dish before her eyes, without hinting at the slightest movement.

    "Your Holiness, I think it would be appropriate for you to leave it to us to provide for feeding the Miko Princess. You cannot waste time on such a triviality."

    One of the guards leaned forward to give a sign to leave the onerous matter to him. It was impressive how his armor did not make the slightest sound, as if the material it was made of was lighter than air.

    "No! Providing for the Miko is one of my tasks, and I don''t intend to delegate it."

    "But..."

    "No buts. I have already finished my other assignments for the day. And what I intend to do with my free time, please excuse me for my rudeness, it''s none of your business, captain!"

    The man did not retort. Instead, he resumed his perfectly static position, continuing to observe the girl.

    Not that anything had changed. Celeste continued to remain dumbfounded in her chair, engaging in small, meaningless gestures, as if desperately trying to prove that she was still alive.

    "Can I help you?"

    Antilene could not explain why she had decided to intrude. Usually, the half-elf had left the care of the Miko Princesses to the other members of the clergy, without paying much attention to them.

    What was different at that time that justified her behavior? A mere quirk or a deeper reason concealed within her soul?

    At the sound of her question, everyone present turned toward her. When she realized who the intruding interlocutor was, the old woman whitened like a chicken before a hungry fox.

    "Lady Zesshi? What are you doing here?"

    Now that she looked at her better, Antilene realized who the kind-looking old lady was.

    Berenice Nagua Santini. One of the most important personalities of the Theocracy and the current Cardinal of Fire. It was not the first time they had met, but she could not say that a relationship that went beyond mutual cordiality had been established.

    "I was just passing by and wondered if you needed a hand."

    "A hand?"

    The cardinal''s voice showed signs of uncertainty; she must have been stunned by such an unusual request.

    "Your Holiness Santini, who is this girl? Is she disturbing you?"

    The guard who had spoken earlier interposed himself between Antilene and Berenice, standing alert. It was not unusual for him not to know who she was, so the half-elf decided not to pay too much attention to his bravado. After all, he was only doing his duty.

    "No need to worry. She is my ... apprentice." The Cardinal brought a hand to her temple, showing a ring in which a sparkling red gemstone was set. "Yes, she is a girl from a wealthy family who is studying under my tutelage to become a priestess. I had forgotten that I promised to help her with her studies tonight."

    "Do you confirm that, young girl?" The guards still seemed to be not entirely convinced.

    Indeed, that did not sound like a very credible excuse; but Antilene was aware that she had to keep her identity hidden from as many people as possible, so she decided to play along.

    "Yes, I was just looking for Her Holiness so I could continue with my learning. But as I peeked through the door of the hall, I noticed that she was busy with an important matter. So I thought it best to offer her a little help." She shifted her gaze to her direct superior, looking her straight in the eye. "Did I make a mistake, Cardinal?"

    Her interlocutor sustained her gaze, without lowering her eyes. A refreshing change from what she was used to.

    "No, not at all. I am glad that you are so ready to help someone in their time of need. The teachings of the Six Great Gods are repeated in your mind like a mantra, as I can see, Lady Zesshi."

    "Oh, no need to use the appellation lady. Just call me Antilene, that''s my name after all."

    "Yes...Antilene."

    "If you confirm for the girl, there should be no problem."

    The guards seemed to accept the situation, although they continued to keep a watchful eye on her.

    Antilene was reassured to see that the Theocracy could count on vigilant soldiers like them. A note of merit emanated in her mind.

    Celeste, meanwhile, had remained steady at her post; like a good, little obedient child. Not that it could have been expected otherwise; it would have been a problem if the crown had lost its effectiveness.

    Yet, looking at her so lifeless, Antilene could not help but feel a lump in her throat. Perhaps that was why she had always tried to avoid the sacred Miko priestesses. A sense of shame for what they had to endure.

    "So, what can I do to resolve the situation?" Antilene asked, as she took a seat in a chair pulled over near the table where Berenice and Celeste were seated.

    "As you can see, she refuses to eat the soup we prepared for her."

    "Strange. I thought the Crown of Wisdom annihilated all her personality. Shouldn''t she listen to all orders without blinking?"

    "Yes, that''s how it normally works. But sometimes the princesses regain a flash of lucidity, and for a few minutes, it''s as if they are in a trance. More than usual, I mean."

    Berenice tried one more time, getting yet another dead end.

    "She doesn''t seem very eager to eat. Perhaps she senses that it is too hot for her? You can see the smoke coming out of the plate." Hypothesized Antilene.

    "Do you think so? Well, let''s try cooling it a little bit."

    The cardinal blew on the steaming bowl of soup, to try again to bring a spoon to Celeste''s mouth.

    Still no results.

    "Maybe with a spell?"

    "Hum, I know a tier 0 magic that should do the trick."

    Berenice cast [Cooling Food] to diminish the temperature of the soup by a little bit.

    This time, the girl willingly accepted the offer, which she swallowed in one gulp.

    "All it takes is a little perseverance to get results, Antilene. Thanks for the advice!"

    "Glad to have been helpful!"

    "Do you want to try to feed her? After all, you''re here to help me."

    "Sure."

    Antilene held the cutlery tightly, taking the utmost care not to cause a disaster.

    Celeste opened her mouth, swallowing as slowly as before the morsel offered to her by the Black Scripture ace.

    The half-elf felt a small satisfaction, seeing the girl willingly accept the meal offered to her.

    "See? It''s not difficult."

    Was this how Auntie Nazaire felt?

    "Too bad her expression remains the same. By the way, what''s in that soup?"

    The half-elf had already eaten dinner a few hours earlier, but the smell emanating from the soup mixture was more than inviting. If she had to bet, the ingredients used were not ordinary.

    "This?" Berenice asked. "It is a special preparation. Colo-colo paws were mixed with some vegetables that grow near the sea, imported from the Holy Kingdom. In addition, forest boar leaves from Evasha Forest imparted adequate nutrients and embellished the flavor, creating an over-the-top dining experience."

    She handed the third spoonful to the Princess, who made no compliments and accepted another bite.

    "A lot of trial and tenacity was required, but in the end, I believe that for now, with our knowledge, this is one of the most balanced and nutritious dishes we can prepare at the moment. Perfect for special needs individuals like the Miko Princesses."

    For a moment, the Cardinal filled her cheeks with satisfaction. Seeing that chubby, friendly-looking woman filled with pride, Antilene recalled someone very close to her. She tapped the cobalt flower ornament she always carried on her chest, as her mind went over the cherished moments of her childhood.

    "You care a lot about her. Celeste, I mean."

    "Each of these girls is placed under my care. I am the one who looks after their welfare and their health. And it is always my duty to give the order when the time comes for... one of them to retire."

    Was that guilt she sensed in her emotions? Both were aware of the grave harm being inflicted on young women to carry that painful burden.

    One in a million. That was the statistic. A blessing for those who exploited it, but at the same time a curse for those who received it.

    Being chosen, in some cases, could be a mockery worse than mediocrity.

    Antilene observed Celeste one more time. So still that she seemed dead; she did not make a single sound, as if her mind was in another place, a happier one.

    Or maybe the guardian of humanity was just lying to herself not to accept the cruelty of the situation. No matter how strong Antilene was, some people could not be saved from the fate that had been imposed on them. Even she could not go against the will of the Gods.

    "Do you think they are satisfied with their situation? That if they could, they would go back?"

    Berenice closed her eyelids. After placing the still half-filled plate on the table, she clutched tightly the scarlet crystal drop-shaped emblem that adorned her cloak, a symbol of her position in the Church.

    "When a mother is forced to sacrifice her child, what do you think her reaction could be?" A note of regret was present in her voice.

    "Are you asserting that each of them is like a daughter to you?"

    The Cardinal pulled a small booklet out of her tunic pocket, which she handed to the half-elf. The pages were yellowed, a sign that it had been used for a long time. But the cover was encircled with a thin layer of magic to prevent it from being ruined.

    "Please, read it!"

    Antilene began to leaf through it quickly, amazed by its contents. The words slipped out quickly as she assimilated what was written.

    "These...are names. And birth dates, biographies, and obituaries. A collection of the most disparate information about a diverse group of girls."

    "Each of them has been a Princess under my care since they trained to fill the position. Since I was vice-cardinal and was entrusted with this sacred task, I see to it that every smallest detail I deem important is noted there. So that their memory does not fade in the folds of time."

    Preserving the memories of all those who had been dear to her, for the compilation of a seemingly endless memorial. This was not the first time Antilene had observed such behavior. Funny how certain patterns tended to repeat themselves.

    "That doesn''t answer my question, though."

    Berenice placed the book back in her robes as she slowly lifted her gaze to Celeste, whose presence was so ethereal to seem like a ghost haunting those rooms.

    One of the guards had replaced the Cardinal in the arduous task of feeding her; a task that now, however, did not seem as difficult as before.

    Could she hear what they were saying? Did she understand that she was the subject of the conversation? Or was she completely estranged from the reality around her, only awaiting orders like a machine?

    "You ask me if I think they are happy with their state. The truth is, I don''t know. The only thing I can do is hope in the Gods. And pray. If they have imposed this burden on their bodies, at least I will give all of myself so that it will not be too heavy."

    The Gods kept watch over all of them, beating the path that would lead to happiness.

    The Gods weaved the web of their destiny, working tirelessly so that human history could continue through the centuries.

    The Gods were inscrutable, and human beings could only toil in a vain attempt to understand them.

    The Gods existed. And she was living proof of that. To doubt them was therefore the silliest thing one could contemplate.

    However¡­ however, perhaps sometimes their truth was not as clear as it might have appeared to the eyes.

    "Heaven, that is eternal happiness, consists in the full adherence of the wills of individuals to the will of the Gods, which is perfectly just. It is the sea to which all created reality is directed, and in it, all desire is appeased."

    "It is the opening canticle of the Scriptures of Light. Verse 1-1!"

    One of her favorites.

    "Didn''t expect you to know it by heart!"

    "When you are ... a girl from an elevated family like me, you have a lot of time to be able to study and appreciate the sacred scriptures."

    Berenice seemed genuinely surprised by that display of knowledge. She probably had not expected so much culture from a soldier, or maybe just from her.

    In any case, Antilene was proud of herself for having once again managed to amaze one of her superiors. After almost two centuries she still had arrows in her quiver.

    "We should talk more often, you and I. Outside of our learning sessions, I mean."

    "That would be lovely."

    "The other day I had the pleasure of talking with Cardinal Raymond about the future of some important people. Including your own."

    Oh. She knew where the conversation was heading. What a bore.

    "You already know how I feel about it."

    "Nevertheless, you''re of husbandly age now. Don''t you think it would be appropriate to..."

    "When I find a suitable partner, I will fulfill my duty. You need not worry about this matter. As you well know, time is not something I lack at the moment. Unless her Holiness wants to stick her nose into private affairs."

    It was evident that the Cardinal disagreed with her answer, but whether out of fear or to avoid antagonizing a valuable resource, she kept quiet without continuing her questions.

    Better that way. More important matters occupied Antilene''s mind. Making a family was not among her plans; at least, not for the time being. As a parent, she would have risked making the same mistakes as her mother. The very mistakes that had resulted in... her.

    "Lady Berenice, we''re done here. We need to take the Princess back to her rooms."

    The guards locked themselves into a four-corner formation as they set about to escort the Miko out of the room.

    "Yes. Yes, of course. Lady Zes...Antilene. Please forgive me, but I want to personally make sure that Celeste is able to rest. It will be my pleasure to resume our...studies at a more suitable time."

    The Cardinal bowed her head in apology. The guards probably considered that gesture unseemly for a woman in her position, but they did not pay too much attention to it, accustomed to the old woman''s good heart.

    "Yes, I am looking forward to that. Good night, Cardinal. Good night, Celeste."

    Of course, the girl did not reply; although Antilene was ready to swear that she had turned a smile on her, just for a moment. A bad joke of her imagination.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Left alone, the half-elf decided to take advantage of the vacant kitchen to make herself some herbal tea. Thinking back to Celeste, she could not help but feel powerless.

    How strange, until now she had never given much thought to the sad fate that awaited the girls chosen as the new Miko Princesses. It was a fact of life, as natural as the flow of the sea or the rain descending from the sky.

    The Theocracy is my home, and I love it like few other things in the world. But I wonder if there are no ways to improve it, to make it reach even greater heights.

    Removing the Miko''s current system would have been folly, given the benefits it brought to the Theocracy''s magical rituals.

    But what if it were possible to access higher magics from the norm, without any sacrifice? Now that would be a major breakthrough. But, also, easier said than done. In the glossaries of magic kept in the treasure room, there are no great clues about this; but it is also true that much of our information concerns the Divine-type magic system.

    She took a sip of the herbal tea, the warmth of the mixture tickling the taste buds on her tongue causing her to feel a familiar warmth.

    If I remember correctly, in the Baharut Empire there should be a sorcerer particularly skilled in the theory of magic. Who knows, maybe in the future I can pay him a little visit and use my persuasive methods to convince him to help us. It shouldn''t be very difficult.

    Future plans. By now she had piled up a fair amount of them. Someday, conceivably, she would even be able to realize them.

    She looked out the window overlooking the small kitchenette.

    Reflected in the glass was her image. She observed her hair, white as the stars and black as the night. She peered at the irises that reflected the same colors, as if in a mirror. White and black. Black and White. Light and shadow. Human and Elf. Death and life. Surshana and Alah Alaf.

    Her mother and father.

    They gave me this strong body.

    Her hands were so strong they could bear the weight of the world on their palms, but they could not taste between their fingers the warmth of a friend.

    They gave me a purpose.

    A purpose fueled by hatred and revenge, which drew its source from suffering. Without that, what was left of her? An empty shell, devoid of whatsoever value.

    They brought me into this world.

    But perhaps this world did not want her, frightened by her abnormality.

    Are Celeste and I so different, after all?

    Locked away in an ivory tower, hidden from the eyes of ordinary people. Idolized and protected almost as Gods, but without receiving the same kind of love.

    Love. What a strange feeling. If she looked back, could she accept that she was loved? Nazaire, Rufus, her old companions. Did they feel this for her? Did her mother ever feel such an emotion?

    And, if they did, did she reciprocate those feelings? Or was it just an illusion of her mind?

    "All things in the Universe are ordered among themselves to form a harmonious whole. In this order, human beings discern the imprint of the Gods, which is the goal to which all things tend."

    Another verse of the Scripture of Light. That evening, she felt in the mood to pray, the only cure for the ills of the spirit. The only one she knew.

    "For all men are inclined toward the Gods according to their nature and tend to different ends by different paths, according to the impulse that is given to them. This causes fire to rise upward, the hearts of irrational beings to move, the Word to stand cohesive within itself; such a condition is common to irrational creatures and those endowed with intellect."

    Sometimes, faith could be the only foothold for a troubled soul.

    Human beings were irrational, prey to their emotions. Except that she was not a human being. Nevertheless, she was not a God either.

    So, who was she in the end?

    Zesshi Zetsumei, the guardian of mankind and future executioner of her father?

    Antilene Heran Fouche, the girl who missed her mother; who had done nothing but fill her with hatred?

    Neither of them? Or was she both?

    Who was Celeste? The girl whose memory was enclosed in Berenice''s notebook or The Miko Princess unable to utter a word? Did it matter?

    A small shiver made her hand tremble; the chill of the night was starting to impose its dominance. Antilene retreated to her room, with no answers.

    Upper Fire Month, 14th day, 10.00

    Gazef was not at ease.

    In the past year, he had become accustomed to cities filled with life, where people showed gratitude for being alive every day, every moment.

    Now, however, the dejection on the faces of men, women, and even children was so obvious as to be discouraging.

    "Is everything all right, captain?"

    A friendly-faced man turned to him with a worried look. He wore a ponytail that enclosed a thick array of brown hair. His eyes, also brown, were bright and alert, and instilled confidence in those who looked into them.

    "Yes, Iovino. Just a little melancholy to see the streets so bare of movement."

    Compared to the bustling markets of the Theocracy, the capital of the Draconic Kingdom could not be said to shine with vitality. The few people on the streets kept their heads lowered, looking dejected. It was a bleak sight that struck the man from the south in a negative way.

    "Unfortunately, things here in Birisia have been getting worse in recent years. With pressure from the demi-humans becoming more and more pressing, trade has become more and more demeaning, while the economy is languishing."

    "So, it''s up to us to remedy the situation, at least in our small way. Rather, have our men settled well? They have no grievances to make, do they?"

    "They do not have the same comforts and facilities as they had in the Theocracy, but the lodgings the Queen has given us are more than adequate. Besides, these are only temporary accommodations."

    Normally, he would have supervised his men himself, but the preparations to be made before meeting the Queen had taken up much of his time; so he was forced to delegate to his second in command, Fieri Iovino.

    "I spent hours and hours double-checking those notes on the royal etiquette but they still have to get into my head. I hope I''m not embarrassing the Theo¡­ our motherland with my inappropriate conduct."

    "''It will be fine, Captain. The queen has a reputation for being an understanding person who can see far beyond appearances. When she realizes the greatness of your character, she will no longer mind such nonsense. Besides, I must say, you look quite a figure in that dress."

    To make himself presentable before the sovereign, Gazef had been provided with a white silk blouse, accompanied by a black vest and custom-embroidered pants. Dressed like that he felt awkward and insecure; he would gladly have exchanged those fancy clothes for his usual set of armor.

    "Phew, I can''t see the time to get out of these rags and head to the battlefield. Has our contact arrived?"

    They had been waiting since dawn, expecting the arrival of their designated guide.

    "Yes, here he comes."

    Ahead of them, a well-groomed-looking man proceeded confidently through the city streets. He wore a black-colored tunic adorned with golden strands. His hair was platinum blond and disheveled, lifted slightly backward. A mocking smile peeped from his lips, in sharp contrast to the depressing air of the city.

    "Master Stronoff, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Ian Als Heim, deputy commander of the demi-human extermination unit under the orders of Queen Draudillon Oriculus. It is a pleasure to meet you."

    "The pleasure is all mine, vice-commander Als."

    They shook hands in friendship. Gazef noticed that his colleague''s grip was strong and vigorous, typical of a man accustomed to action.

    "Shall we set out? It''s not good to keep a lady waiting."

    They, in truth, had already been ready for hours. But Gazef preferred not to comment on his new companion''s delay. Better not to antagonize right away someone on whom his life might have depended.

    The group started walking, with Ian leading their small line.

    The capital city was organized according to a rather orderly plan, with straight, paved streets stacked at right angles. At an overall level, the plain was crisscrossed by the streets and squares that connected the roads radiating toward the hill of Quieti. The city was surrounded by thick walls of white stone blocks that made it bright and visible from afar.

    "We are now heading toward the agora," Ian began to explain, well at ease in the role of guide.

    "There lies the royal residence where the Queen goes to direct the affairs of state. Nearby are concentrated most of the warehouses, emporiums of magical items and armaments, and commercial stores. If you want to drop in afterward to restock your equipment, I will be happy to accompany you. Although, between you and me, the equipment our...benefactors provide is far better. But having a few more options is no bad thing, am I right?"

    "What about the temples? I think I saw one a little further back."

    "There is no state religion. The majority of people worship the Four Gods, but there is little objection to those who revere the Six Great Gods. Are you a faithful devotee, Master Stronoff?"

    Ian continued to maintain his mocking smile, but his tone of voice became more incisive...almost inquisitorial.

    The Theocracy still distrusted him. Gazef could not condemn them for this. In reverse situations, he would have acted the same way. He was ready to show them that they had nothing to doubt.

    "I am still a layman, but it was the love of the faith toward the Six Great Gods that convinced me to leave the life of a mercenary to try to rise to a greater...purpose."

    "Oh!" Ian was genuinely surprised by this last statement. He ran a hand through his hair, rearranging it. Or mess it up even more, Gazef could not tell the difference.

    "Was there any event in particular that caused this conversion? If you don''t mind me asking?"

    "It was a priest."

    "A... a priest?" Ian was confused.

    Priests who spread the voice of the Gods were not something so extraordinary; though usually, they remained in the territories bordering the Theocracy, such as Re-Estize, Roble, or Baharut.

    "Yes. I met him during my days as a traveling mercenary. He was a wandering priest who instructed me for days on the faith of the Six Gods. It was he who convinced me to find my fortune in the... in other places."

    A glimmer of emotion began to show in the warrior''s words. "I''ve always been looking for a purpose, an ambition to fulfill in my life, and I think I''m finally close to grasping it."

    Gazef had repeated that story countless times since joining Slaine''s army. But he didn''t mind continuing to repeat it. It was the plain and simple truth; however trivial it might be.

    "And we are more than happy to have him by our side. The captain is one of the best men I have ever met!" Iovino interjected feebly, causing a slight blush on Gazef''s cheeks.

    "I hope you can meet him again, then, Master Stronoff." Ian''s words rang sincerely. Was he beginning to trust him?

    "That''s what I hope!" Gazef scratched the tip of his nose, embarrassed. "Before we parted, he told me that we would see each other again in the future. I would like to show him my appreciation someday."

    "I''m sure the Gods have something special in store for you! In any case, we have arrived."

    Ian showed them the royal palace. Located in the center of the square, it represented the heart of the Draconic court, a symbol of the power of the Oriculus dynasty.

    Upon entering it, the first thing Gazef and Iovino noticed were the guards diligently patrolling the corridors.

    Unlike the other soldiers in the city, they wore gleaming armor of emerald green, resembling jade. In addition, unlike the other city guards, they carried various exquisitely crafted magical items on their belts.

    "They are the members of the Jade Dragon Guard," Ian explained calmly. "The elite of the Draconic Kingdom and personal guard of the queen. Each of them is comparable to an adventurer of Orichalcum rank."

    It was a remarkable achievement, although there did not seem to be many present in the palace. Were a majority of them also deployed to the front?

    They continued on their way. Gazef did not call himself an expert in architecture, far from it. Yet he gazed in wonder at the structure of the palace: an imposing marble staircase, which seemed to soar upward in a light, sinuous volute, discharged all its weight on the adjacent walls, those of the outer wall of the palace, so as not to overburden the floor below, made of wood.

    On the sides, large windows were placed overlooking the courtyard at the back of the palace, so as to provide the otherwise cramped room with an effective source of external lighting.

    Decorating the room were numerous suits of armor, all of superb workmanship, armed to the teeth with exquisitely crafted weapons.

    Numerous paintings were displayed in plain view, depicting most of the previous rulers with a realistic style. They gave the feeling of judging every visitor who passed through those places, to assess whether they were worthy of being there.

    "We have arrived. Try not to make a bad impression."

    The hall where they were received was spacious and comfortable: carpets of the finest workmanship graced the floor in a riot of color; a variety of small sculptures depicting the most diverse subjects rested on some pieces of antique furniture.

    On the ceiling there was another painting. Only much more imposing and depicting a different figure from the men and women in the corridors. In fact, Gazef recognized what was considered the founder of the nation: an ancient dragon whose scales shone with a thousand colors, creating a rainbow-like play of light.

    Gazef wondered if that painting had succeeded in capturing the splendor of that legendary creature or if, instead, it was just a pale imitation of the majesty of reality.

    "Please let me welcome you!" A calm, firm voice welcomed them benevolently.

    Seated on a thinly golden throne covered with a thin golden layer, a pretty little girl was beginning to peer at them intently. She had eyes as blue as the sea and long auburn hair with a few sprinkles of black.

    At her side, an intelligent-looking man was carefully leafing through a series of papers enclosed in a folder, continually adjusting a pair of glasses that fell on his aquiline nose. When he saw the guests, he looked up to receive them.

    "You stand before the presence of Queen Draudillon Oriculus! Show the honors befitting a person of her status!"

    Gazef bowed his torso and head, as a sign of respect. He prayed to the Goddess Lagusa that his gesture would not appear too awkward and rude.

    "It''s all right, Magone. These are the intrepid heroes who are putting their lives on the line to save our country. It is I who should bow to them."

    "Nonsense. Although our situation is not the brightest, you remain a member of the royal family. Showing respect to you should be only natural."

    "Perhaps you are right. But I don''t want to waste time on such trifles. Please, stand up!" Ordered the queen. Despite her childish appearance, she posed with the calm diplomacy of an experienced adult woman.

    So, the stories regarding the use of magic for the modification of one''s appearance were true. I wonder if it is possible to apply similar power in war.

    "No trouble at all, your Majesty. My deputy and I are quite happy to show you the appropriate respect." Gazef replied, getting a nod of assent from his second-in-command. Ian nodded his head, to show that he agreed with them too.

    "Before we begin, Ser Stronoff, I want to ask you a question. You''ve gotten an idea of life in the capital, right? What do you think?"

    "I..." Gazef was hesitant, not wanting to run the risk of causing a diplomatic incident. But starting their relationship with a lie would not have been the wisest choice. "I have noticed that things are not going well, your highness."

    "No need to sugarcoat it, Ser Stronoff. My people are suffering, as they have never suffered in the last centuries. And here in the capital, things still manage, all things considered, to retain a semblance of normalcy. We cannot say the same about what is happening on the borders."

    "How do you plan to resolve this sad situation?" Gazef asked, looking up at the queen.

    "I can''t do it alone." Draudillon lowered her head humbly, as if she was the villager and not him. "For that, I need your help."

    "Your majesty, there is no need to humiliate yourself like this." Magone intervened. "Please raise your head."

    "I have no problem humbling myself in this way if it can benefit my subjects. Their tears are my tears! Their spilled blood is my blood!" Rebutted the queen, full of determination.

    Such a small body hid a strength of mind greater than the norm. Gazef was impressed. He felt that for her, he would be more than ready to risk his life.

    "Your prime minister is right, Queen Oriculus." This time it was Ian who took the floor, after he had been silent since the beginning of the conversation. "Why don''t you explain to our friends what tasks await them?"

    "Yes, excuse me for my behavior unbecoming of a person of my status." It was a sincere apology, Gazef did not doubt it for a minute. "Sir Stronoff, there are two assignments I intend to give you. The first, as you well know, is to repel the invasion of demi-humans that has plagued this kingdom for years. You will begin by going to the fortress of Gelone. The prime minister, Magone, will give you maps of the area."

    The man began sorting through the many papers he carried in his hands, setting a couple aside on a nearby desk.

    "Of course, some of our rangers will escort you to the predetermined location. There, you will meet with General Barca, the group of adventurers led by Cerebrate, and Mr. Ian''s superior."

    "We will live up to your expectations, your Majesty." Ian brought his right hand to his upper chest to perform a military salute.

    "For any communication," Draudillon continued. "Some of the casters under the Prime Minister''s direction can cast [Message]; should you need any information, do not hesitate to ask. Should it be necessary, please feel free to request a hearing in my presence. I hope everything is clear."

    "Crystal clear," Gazef confirmed. "As for the second assignment, however?"

    The first assignment given to him was more or less in line with the information he had received from the Theocracy. He was curious, then, about the second job he had to take care of. Doubt that he would not be up to it began to crop up in his thoughts.

    "Until now the Draconic kingdom, though not lacking a regular army, has relied for its battles against the Beastmen mainly on the use of mercenary troops." The queen began to explain. "Mercenary troops, however, are effective only when the economy is flourishing. In periods of stagnation, such as we have been experiencing recently, they are not so reliable."

    "Fortunately," Magone interrupted. "Our queen was far-sighted enough to realize that things could not stay that way."

    "In recent years I have tried to reverse this trend. First with the formation of the Jade Guard. And now we are thinking of opening our school of magic, subsidized by the state as the Empire has already done. But, in any case, this requires time and resources."

    "And that''s where we come in," Gazef continued. The plan they had devised was simple but effective. "You want us to take advantage of the war to train your soldiers."

    "Exactly!" The queen exclaimed joyfully. Seeing her so full of satisfaction was indeed a lovely sight. Gazef began to understand why she had taken that form. "It is annoying to admit it, but your training systems are the best there are. I would much rather not have to resort to such drastic methods; nevertheless, this is the best of all possible alternatives. I hope there are no problems."

    Gazef thought back to the previous year and the training he and his unit had undergone. Judging by the look on his face, Iovino was doing the same.

    "We will do our best to live up to your expectations, your Royal Highness."

    Draudillon gave him a warm smile, though connoted by a sad streak of melancholy. The worries that plagued her were evident even to an eye as clumsy as his.

    "I know you will, Ser Stronoff. I cannot reiterate to you enough how important your presence here is."

    "Your Grace has turned to professionals; in a short time, we will be able to solve your infestation problems. We will clean this country from top to bottom."

    Ian exuded confidence from every pore of his body. The queen seemed soothed by that show of confidence.

    "Although our religions do not coincide, let me recite a little prayer for you in my heart, hoping it will be a good omen."

    "We gratefully accept your thought, Your Royal Highness. Now, with permission, let us take our leave. The preparations to be completed are many, and time is short."

    After addressing a second bow, this time of leave-taking, the three of them walked toward the palace exit.

    I beg you, save this nation. Thought the little queen, as she saw her hopes drift away from the door.

    Upper Fire Month, 14th day, 19.00

    Guelfi observed the carcass at his feet. The being''s body structure was remarkably bizarre.

    Two leg-like limbs supported a humanoid body composed of what appeared to be wood, covered by tattered clothing; from its shoulders sprouted branches with a few pieces of bone hanging from them, probably from its most recent victims.

    The head was the skull of an animal vaguely resembling a deer, though with a more elongated and angular snout. It was devoid of eyes, mouth, or any other limb one would expect from a living being.

    A yellowish liquid, similar to tree sap, leaked from the remains. Guelfi tried to examine it, passing a few drops between his fingers.

    "Ew, it''s all sticky!"

    "Hehe; it''s natural, sergeant. This liquid is, for a lenshi, comparable to human blood. However, if treated carefully, it can be used to prepare very interesting compounds. For example, it could be mixed with cursed goat entrails to make a powerful poison from it."

    "Bah, only a weirdo like you could find this stuff interesting, Julius."

    "Hahaha, don''t say that. I might be offended!"

    The man he was talking to, Julius Ranieri Servino, was the most talented magic caster and apothecary in his service; as well as being quite a... curious researcher.

    "To bring down this beast we lost twelve men from our unit. I hope it was worth it."

    Julius continued to analyze the creature lying lifeless on the ground, jotting down a series of observations in a small notebook. Why on earth had he brought his notebook and pen into the middle of a forest?

    "It''s strange."

    "What?"

    "Usually, lenshi attack only if provoked or if their territory is endangered. To find an aggressive one is unusual."

    What was strange about a monster attacking humans? In his opinion, it was the most normal thing in the world.

    "Lately, the most bizarre things have been happening in this damn forest. Do you think there is any particular reason?"

    Guelfi sniffed trouble, he could feel it in his bones. Just now, when he was so close to getting a temporary leave of absence. Reambracing Caroline, an increasingly distant dream. What a shitty situation.

    "Maybe some infighting between one of the forest lords?" Julius hypothesized.

    "Could be. Or maybe those elf bastards are up to something. Bah, I''ve been here three years and nothing interesting has ever occurred. And now, all of a sudden, not a day goes by without something unusual happening."

    "I heard that the other day one of the other reconnaissance units found the remains of undead vultures in the treetops."

    "Undead?" Guelfi asked, his hands trembling with agitation.

    Evasha''s forest was full of monstrous creatures of all kinds, but as far as he could remember the undead were not among them. At least as far as their knowledge attested.

    Sweesh

    Suddenly, a rustle spread through the surroundings. Something seemed to be hidden in the foliage.

    "I think we''d better return to the headquarters as soon as possible, sir." Julius was beginning to lose his typical cool as he surveyed around him.

    "Yes, let''s round up the men and get out of here as soon as possible."

    They had started their expedition with fifty men in all, now only thirty-eight remained.

    Guelfi did not take long to gather his subordinates scattered nearby; after a few minutes, they were ready to set out to return to the main camp.

    "Okay, let''s be careful and not get into trouble. Watch out for ghost moths, soon it will be the time when those little beasts start showing up!"

    The unit began to set out with the utmost discipline, the result of years and years of training. Guelfi was convinced that unless they met one of the fifteen forest lords, they would be safe. And even in case they ran into some particularly dangerous beast, they had magical preparations so they could easily hide their tracks.

    Yes, there was nothing to fear. Everything was going to be alright. But then, what was that unpleasant feeling that gripped him?

    "Anything to report?" Having reached just halfway, he called back to the vanguard to be updated on the situation.

    "No, nothing unusual. Although ... who''s that?"

    Guelph felt a pain in his stomach. That his fears were not entirely unfounded?

    "Julius, come with me. Let''s see what''s going on."

    "Roger that, sir."

    They found him standing in front a few meters away from the soldiers he had placed at the front of the line, intent on scanning the trees surrounding the forest, completely oblivious to their presence.

    An elf.

    "Be careful! We don''t know why a single elf decided to be found right here."

    Of all the creatures in the forest, elves were far from being the most dangerous. Nonetheless, that could very well have been bait prepared to make them let their guard down. Likely, there were some of his comrades well hidden in the foliage of the forest, ready to give battle at the right moment.

    "Julius, get the men ready. They could target us with arrows at any moment. Have them cast [Protection from arrows]. Let''s not be caught unprepared."

    "Yes, sir."

    His unit had a few paladins and clerics armed with heavy shields, veterans of countless battles against the long-ears. Not to count some expert magic casters. They would not be caught off-guard.

    Guelfi wielded his iron club, with every intention of using it. The elf had noticed them, but did not seem intent on starting a conflict. In any case, caution was never too much.

    The mysterious man began to approach. Now that he got a better look at him, Guelfi started to realize that he was no ordinary elf.

    His skin was a pale white, remarkably polished like the finest silk cloth. His eyes were two different colors, one white and one black. His hair, long and well-groomed, was also the same white as his skin.

    He wore a scarlet cloak, tight-fitting black pants enclosed in a long golden skirt, and handless gloves, also golden. On the top, he wore a green shirt, though much of his chest was exposed.

    On his head, he sported a golden headband from which branches emerged from behind his skull.

    "May it be...?

    His image perfectly matched that of the sketch they had of the Elf King. The situation was beginning to get complicated.

    For the Theocracy soldiers deployed in the Evasha Forest, there was one order that towered above all others.

    If you encounter the Elf King, run.

    "Greetings, humans. May I speak with you?"

    He greeted them without batting an eyelash. Didn''t he know they were enemies? No, impossible. He simply did not regard them as a danger to be kept away from.

    "What do you want?"

    In Guelfi''s mind, all the various possibilities began to display themselves. They could have fought and used the numerical advantage to finally end that damn war. But if the central command had recommended staying away from that man, there had to be a well-founded reason.

    For now, he would try to stall, waiting for the right moment to escape.

    "You are from the Theocracy, aren''t you? The worshippers of false gods."

    Guelfi did not take up that last provocation. He had to keep calm and cool-headed if he wanted to survive.

    "So, what if we are?"

    The elf smiled. No, it was not a smile. It was something more like the face of a hungry beast, already anticipating the taste of its prey.

    "There is no need to be unhinged. I bear no grudge against any of you here. I just want to ask you a question."

    A shiver of terror ran down Guelfi''s spine. There was something deeply wrong with all this.

    "Go ahead."

    "Do you know where my daughter is?"

    "Your...your daughter?"

    "Yes. That woman told me that if I asked enough of you fanatical fools, sooner or later she would be delivered to me. I could personally go and claim what is mine. But from the height of my generosity, I thought it right to give you a chance to remedy your sins. Is this not what your religion professes?"

    That they had captured one of his favorite children, perhaps? There must have still been prisoners left at the central camp, in which case they could negotiate an exchange.

    "If you let us go, I will take your claims back to the central command. We will free your daughters we have captive."

    "Why are you talking to me about that garbage?" A mixture of anger and irritation erupted from his words. "Or do you really think those defective products can be considered my legacy?"

    Guelfi swallowed. He did not understand what he had said wrong, but it was clear that things were not going well.

    "The one I want is my real daughter. The one you followers of false gods have kept away from me!" Continued the elf king.

    What on earth was he talking about? That he had gone crazy all of a sudden?

    "Listen, if you let us go, I will personally talk to General Gael. Let''s come to an agreement."

    "It''s all useless" The king began massaging his forehead with his fingers, making small undulating movements. "I''m just wasting my time. I will ask the next deployment of you fools."

    "So, you''re letting us go?"

    Guelfi began to feel a tinge of hope. Perhaps he would have seen the end of the day.

    He laughed. "No, but you have no cause for despair. Being executed by me is a blessing that does not fall on everyone. Rejoice, for it will soon be over."

    What was that feeling?

    Fear?

    But a soldier of the Theocracy could not feel fear.

    Quickly. He had to give the order to retreat.

    Why couldn''t he move?

    Where had his courage gone?

    He returned to his training days. Thinking back to the words of his instructor.

    Terror was a treacherous obstacle, but not impossible to overcome with courage and faith in the Gods.

    At the same time, it was an excellent tool for understanding when opportunities to prevail were to one''s disadvantage.

    From this point of view, fear was an excellent warning signal that would prevent foolish and thoughtless actions.

    But while those definitions could not be called false, they could not be called completely true, either.

    Guelfi felt caged in, every possible choice he could make seemed lost from the start. The desperation of feeling like trapped prey, unable to react. That was fear.

    "Run!" He finally shouted to his men.

    Too late.

    "[Return to origin]."

    It happened in an instant.

    Roots began to emerge from the ground, trapping all the other members of his unit in a cage of mud and soil.

    The cages began to tighten.

    And tighten.

    And tighten.

    Poof

    The sound of a bang. The blood and internal organs, all that remained of his subordinates, were scattered in every corner of the area.

    Only Guelfi had been spared.

    "I feel like having some fun. Don''t worry, I''ll be gentle!"

    The Elf King looked like a titan, a being from a higher plane of existence who stood on top of the world to look down on it with disdain like... like a God.

    What blasphemy!

    There was only one thing left that he could do.

    "A whisper? No, a prayer. But I''m afraid there are no gods here. Only..."

    Everything went dark.

    "...Me!"

 Chapter 14: Puzzle

    CHAPTER 14: PUZZLE

    Upper Fire Month, 15th day, 17.00

    "This is not good."

    Agravaine observed what had once been the mighty figure lying before her eyes.

    It resembled a bear, although it reached four meters in length and had its fur protected by a long carapace shell. Not that it had done him much good.

    The now lifeless body was covered by a thick layer of lianas and vegetation, which wrapped it in a protective layer that preserved its shape, now increasingly close to decay.

    "Fredem, were you able to figure out what happened?" She addressed her subordinate, forcefully plugging her nostrils so as not to assimilate that pestilential corpse smell.

    "Judging by its size, this is no ordinary Ankyloursus. It could be one of the lords of the forest." Fredem answered her, still intent on coordinating the inspection activities of their small team.

    Agravaine felt a knot in her throat. In the past three hundred years, no forest lord had ever been killed, as far as she could tell from their intel. Great changes were coming to the ecosystem of the Evasha Forest.

    For now, the priority was to find out who had been the perpetrator of that ruthless execution.

    "Maybe this is the work of the soldiers of the Theocracy? For their army, it could not have been an impossible feat."

    If it really had been Slaine''s troops, as much of a headache as that might have been, it still would not have meant a new unknown to investigate.

    But things are never as simple as one would hope.

    "I''m afraid not." Said Fredem. "A head-on confrontation between the Theocracy and one of the forest lords would have left recognizable battle marks. Even if we assume that Slaine''s soldiers recovered every single victim and cleaned every last trace of blood from the surroundings, it still doesn''t explain why there were almost no signs of the clash left on the corpse we found."

    Agravaine again observed the lifeless mass before her eyes. She could not have called herself an expert in inspecting corpses, quite the contrary. But the elf knew that Fredem and his men had honed that skill during the long years in her service.

    After all, there was no shortage of deceased bodies to study in that forest.

    "Would you say that this Ankyloursus died of natural causes?" A hint of curiosity leaked from her voice.

    "No, far from it." Fredem looked slightly uncomfortable; it was obvious that something was troubling him. "His neck was broken with a single, vigorous attack. He died instantly, without having the slightest chance to fight back."

    "So," Agravaine shook the ponytail that the wind had blown back over her right shoulder. "You think he did it."

    Fredem began clutching the spear he held with more intensity than usual, as if ready to unleash it at any moment. "It''s hard to judge, but I think the only ones who are capable of such a feat are the Behemoth and the Judge of Nature."

    So, there were two cases: infighting among the lords of the forest had begun or the king himself had decided to take the field.

    Or ... perhaps Logem was right.

    "Do you think it''s possible that the Theocracy decided to bring that elusive little boy Logem always talks about into the field?"

    "It could be" Fredem did not seem too convinced, however. "But in the last century, we have found no clue that this phantom son of the king, kept hidden by the Cardinals, really exists."

    "They may have been very good at keeping him secret." Agravaine hypothesized.

    "Or it could just be a vain hope of a desperate man." Fredem retorted.

    "Do you think Logem is desperate?"

    "I think all of us are looking for any reason to go on. Something to give meaning to a battle that never seems to end."

    Even for beings with longevity as long as theirs, that conflict now seemed to have been going on forever.

    The prospect of being exterminated and wiped off the face of the earth was becoming more enticing every day than a perpetual fight whose chances of victory were growing dimmer and dimmer for some of her underlings; Agravaine was aware of that.

    The wind of change is always preceded by a hurricane of strife.

    "The moment when the stalemate to which we have been condemned for years breaks could come at any moment. Come what may, at least before long our pain will finally end."

    Agravaine looked her comrade straight in the eye. He looked away. The color of her irises always put him in awe, probably because they were memories of unpleasant times.

    "What will be our next move?"

    "To begin with, we ought to try to find out who was the perpetrator of this slaughter. Once we return to the village, we will prepare a reconnaissance team. You will be part of it, of course."

    "Roger that." Replied the man. His brow furrowed.

    "After that," the woman continued. "We have to prepare escape routes for some of the survivors we''ve rounded up over the past few days. Remind me how many we helped last month."

    "Fifteen in all. No casualties."

    Fifteen. Almost double their monthly average. Splendid.

    Their goal now was to increase that number.

    "We should also start preparing as many supplies as possible to be crammed into the village stores. If the war gets even more chaotic, the chances of gathering fruits and hunting wild animals will decrease significantly. How many druids do we currently have?"

    "Three at the moment. Counting you, Agravaine."

    "And how many are able to use fourth-tier magic?"

    "Only you."

    "I see."

    It would have been desirable to have more druids to produce greater quantities of food in the shortest possible time, but at the moment they had to make do with what they had on hand.

    Agravaine closed the buttons of her cotton jacket, which had remained open up to that point. Night would soon fall, and the air was beginning to cool.

    She gathered the other elves present; before the day came to an end, they had one more matter to settle. It would be difficult, but the outcome of that mission depended on the outcome of their future.

    "If there are no objections, I would say we can continue toward our initial destination. Ahead, the Thousand Acre Glade awaits us."

    None of those present showed any objection to continuing their exploration.

    Indeed, their expedition outside had certainly not set out to analyze the corpse of an overgrown bear. Far from it.

    Located inside a clearing hidden among foliage and trees, the clearing that was the object of their destination was particularly difficult to reach.

    The reason for this was that the main entrance changed periodically, making it almost impossible to locate it exactly before it was subject to a new change.

    The only reliable method of succeeding in entering it was therefore to receive an invitation from the inhabitants of that almost mystical place. An invitation they had only recently managed to earn.

    Could it be that the turmoil that had been occurring in recent months had prompted those guardians to rise from their inaction?

    In any case, she could not have missed that opportunity to gain valuable new allies.

    Walking through the bush, Agravaine could not help but be taken aback by the oppressive silence that cloaked the streets. Not even a fly she could hear flying.

    All the inhabitants of that forest were on their toes, aware that the slightest noise would attract the unwanted attention of a predator prowling there.

    The pathway that would lead them to the designated place was, at the moment, a narrow crevice protruding between the junction of two centuries-old trees, each with a diameter reaching hundreds of meters.

    In order to get through it, Agravaine and her subordinates had to kneel down and walk dozens of meters, letting the dirt and soil accumulate on their legs.

    I suppose they are still wary of letting us approach their sacred place. Hopefully, we will be able to bring home some results.

    After a few minutes, they popped up in a large open space. The vegetation was impressive, more than normal. The trees, most of them acres but countless species such as oaks, magnolias, willows, and birches were also present, stood proudly and grandly toward the infinite sky.

    Looking at that imposing panorama, Agravaine felt small and helpless as she had rarely felt in her life. However, it was not only the sight of the plants that was breathtaking.

    Some beings roamed those little-trodden paths that never seemed to have glimpsed the hand of men or elves.

    Their size varied from individual to individual, but she could not glimpse a single one that was less than three meters.

    In addition, their features were vaguely humanoid but displayed certain characteristics that differentiated them greatly from races such as dwarves, elves, or men.

    To begin with, their limbs were an intricate hodgepodge of lianas, branches, flowers, and leaves that came together perfectly in a brightly colored plant mosaic.

    The limbs of arms and legs were conspicuously thin, but at the same time compact and solid as mountains. The faces were flattened and plump, one might have said almost funny.

    The elongated, slender noses were graceful twigs of wood from which sprouted pretty little green-colored leaves.

    Would they change color with the passing of the seasons, like ordinary trees?

    But the most extraordinary detail of their physiognomy were the small ecosystems that seemed to have adapted on the bodies of some of the larger specimens.

    For example, on the shoulder of a giant that seemed to be close to eight meters, she noticed some breeds of birds that had formed their nests. On the leg of another, a small colony of ants seemed to have formed a colony between the space between the knees and the foot. Yet another had a small hive attached to a protuberance sticking out of his right arm.

    It is amazing how each of them exhibits such distinctly marked characteristics compared to the other exemplars. Every individual specimen is different from his peers; I wonder if they also notice the small differences that characterize us elves or, on the contrary, consider us all copies of each other.

    Agravaine''s mind began to smoke as she analyzed that flood of features and details that presented themselves before her eyes. Under other circumstances, she would gladly have spent weeks in that enchanted place, so that she could learn as much as possible about the culture and customs of those seemingly peaceful beings.

    But, alas, she could not waste time on such nonsense.

    "Fredem," she turned to her second in command. "Let''s be careful and try not to antagonize them, if a battle should break out, I don''t think we will have much chance of victory."

    "Leave that to me." He answered her. "Men, in formation! And be careful!"

    At the man''s order, the small group huddled tightly around the woman who captained them. Had it been necessary, each of them would have gladly sacrificed their life to allow her to escape.

    "You are to be the guests of the Keeper of the Balance. I am Kastol, let me lead you to him." One of the giant presents addressed them.

    "Yes, we are the delegation of elves who have been invited to this sacred place. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Agravaine, and these are the men and women under my command."

    Following her example, each elf present lowered his head in a sign of respect. The gesture was returned with equal courtesy by Kastol.

    "Before I lead you to our leader, let me close the passage. So that no unwanted guests may enter."

    Agravaine watched carefully as her guide approached the narrow opening through which they had entered and, later, cast a magic that locked up the bottleneck.

    So, they are also able to use magic. Judging by the control exercised over the trees, it should be Druidic magic, like mine. If each of them was a capable spellcaster, they could prove to be valuable assets to our cause.

    After they had finished their introductions; the group, to which the wood giant had now been added, began to set out.

    Kastol was not a man -or woman, distinguishing sexual genders, if there were gender at all, was certainly not an easy task- of many words; indeed, it would be more accurate to say that he did not speak at all.

    He had probably received strict instructions not to divulge sensitive information to those who were still outsiders for the time being.

    Agravaine, nevertheless, managed to extrapolate some information by carefully observing the surrounding landscape. Her gaze circled the surroundings, searching for any small clues.

    I would not say they are very numerous; even assuming they do not want to show themselves to strangers, I doubt they exceed hundreds of inhabitants.

    In fact, most of the wood giants gave little thought to their passing, granting them at most a brief glance of curiosity.

    "There are no structures that resemble houses or roads, everything is left in its natural state as if the smallest construction could soil this enchanted landscape." Noted Fredem, dumbfounded by the naturalistic spectacle that surrounded them.

    "Yes, you are right. They live in perfect harmony with Mother Nature. More than any other species living in this forest."

    Even for them, who had always been accustomed to the dense vegetation of the Evasha Forest, that place exuded something sacred and divine. It was as if it had been preserved as much as possible in its original state when it was a project coming to life in the minds of the Gods.

    The dazzling colors of the leaves unfolded with the overwhelming majesty of a rainbow. The grass on the ground glowed with crystalline dew while the flowers decorated the landscape with an intense spectrum of hues and shades, all different from each other.

    Different species of magical beasts and animals lived in perfect harmony, leaping in the fields or feeding on what grew on the bodies of some giants.

    It was a utopian spectacle that filled Agravaine''s heart with a sweet warmth. That place appeared to be lost in time, the sufferings of the outside seemed not to touch or scratch that perfect image of calm and peace cultivated in that oasis of sweetness.

    At the same time, the elf was also overwhelmed by an impervious determination. The desire to bring that dreamy spectacle even outside, among her people, foreshadowed itself more and more insistently within her soul.

    "We have arrived." Kastol pointed them to a giant tree that stood out in the center of a wide space covered with the most diverse vegetation.

    No, it was not a tree. It was another wood giant, only even more imposing than the other specimens they had glimpsed earlier.

    Fifteen meters...no, maybe even twenty. Unbelievable!

    Sitting on a throne of thorns embellished with rose petals, in his presence, the others of his kind looked like only small infants. Agravaine imagined him touching the sky with one finger and grabbing a cloud to offer to them as a homage.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    "Nice to meet thou, strangers. I am Bombadillo, leader of this little coven. ''Tis an honor to meet thou."

    His voice boomed with the force of a thousand drums, but at the same time, it had an innate melody, vaguely reminiscent of nightingales singing.

    They were so small in his presence. Agravaine was sure that if that giant had wanted to, he could have crushed them with a single movement of his index finger, without them being able to do anything to escape him.

    "The pleasure is all ours, lord of the forest. My men and I are at your service."

    "No want to be so formal." His friendliness was a good sign. " After all, thou came hither under mine direct invitation. Thou shall be treated as mine equals as long as thou respect our customs."

    Agravaine breathed a sigh of relief. Things had started out on the right track, and she would have done anything to keep them going that way.

    "Your kindness comforts me and my men. If you don''t mind me asking, what were the reasons that prompted you to finally agree to our requests for a meeting? We have been trying to get in touch with your people for at least fifty years."

    A pair of sparrows perched on the giant''s shoulders. Bombadillo gently stroked them with his fingertips. Despite the considerable difference in size, the birds did not seem perturbed by his gesture, as if they could instinctively sense the titan''s kindness.

    "A few days since, one of the lords of the forest died," he began, the tone of his voice now closer to a sad funeral song. "It had been centuries since such an event befell. The forest mourns the perpetual loss of one of its lords."

    "We know," Agravaine replied. "We found his corpse on the route that brought us to your presence."

    "His corpse?" Bombadillo was strangely surprised by that statement. His body, until then in a state of deep calm and stillness, began to show signs of disturbance. "Mine countrymen personally arranged to bury him in a secluded place, far from the roads normally trafficked by forest dwellers. Say to me, how didst thou find him?"

    An unhealthy doubt began to creep into the elf''s mind. Was it possible that...

    "Which lord specifically are you referring to, Sir Bombadillo?"

    "To the Gigahorn Elk Lord. One of the small reconnaissance groups we routinely send without found his remains hold, but for a few weeks since."

    As I thought.

    "Your Excellency, unfortunately, I''m afraid I''m the bearer of bad news."

    "What doth thou mean?" Bombadillo looked at her with a note of astonishment from the top of his height.

    "The body we came across was not that of Gigahorn Elk, but of a larger than normal Ankyloursus. We suspect it was the pack leader of that dangerous race."

    "So, the dead lords are at least two." The wood giant let out a sad sigh, his breath wafting through the air like an autumn wind. "I didn''t expect it would come to this. My liver moves like I am reliving the events of five hundred years since."

    "What are you referring to, if you don''t mind me asking?" That last note had aroused Agravaine''s curiosity. Five hundred years ago. A date with which she was now all too familiar.

    "Long time ago it was natural for mine kind to reach mine size. Most species that inhabited the forest had divers'' physiognomies and peculiarities from those with which thou wot them today. At least till the Eight Invokers of Ruin arrived."

    "Are you referring to the Eight Greed Kings?" Asked Agravaine, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

    "Is that what they bid them outside the sacred forest?"

    "Yes, many legends speak of these eight legendary figures, towering like giant dragons who brought ruin and destruction to the world." Agravaine pointed out.

    "Dragons? I remember some of them having similar features, yet others looked more like humans or elves."

    That it was a different group the old sage named? Or had the legend concerning the Eight Greed Kings changed over time?

    "Either way," Agravaine continued. "What led you to remember those events of the past?"

    "As I was saying, at the time I was only a small shrub and mine memories are fuzzy. I''m fairly sure that what thou elves bid lords of the forest today are naught more than the last survivors of what we might find the original races of yesteryear."

    "In short, without the fiercest predators, the least dangerous beasts have thrived. I dare not imagine what the ecosystem of the forest once was."

    In her heart, Agravaine was grateful for the extermination work of the Eight Greed Kings. As cruel as it may have seemed, without their intervention the elves'' population probably would not have been able to thrive as it did.

    "Yes, that''s right. And I am afraid that, alas, the events of centuries since are now being repeated. In recent months something strange hath been happening in our beloved home."

    Agravaine gritted her teeth. A theory began to form.

    Five hundred years ago eight figures brought chaos to the world, including this forest. Then they mysteriously disappear, according to legends because of a civil war. Then, a few years later, our beloved king appears, almost out of nowhere. Could it be that he is a survivor of that group? It would explain his seemingly unlimited powers. But why is he acting right now, after years of inaction?

    "I know what you''re thinking," Fredem told her. "And I don''t like it at all."

    "It''s just a guess for now. Let''s not get ahead of ourselves."

    Even if her assumption had been correct, it would have simply explained the tyrant''s origins. It would have changed their situation very little.

    "Thou seem to hast something in mind," Bombadillo addressed them. He was so monumental that a single gesture of his finger could have crushed them all. Yet, even so, he appeared to be seriously concerned about those mysterious deaths. "Please share thy information with me. If we want to start an alliance relationship, it is good to start it with the right root."

    "Yes, you are right." Agravaine agreed, lowering her head in apology. "We think it was the elf king who carried out these executions, if you want to call them that. But we ignore the reasons behind these actions."

    "The elf king," the wood giant''s meditative expression had a calming effect; the herbs on his face began to move, lulled by the wind, propagating a chamomile-like scent. "I recall that he possesses extraordinary faculties and that he rules thy people with an iron fist. But I do not regard these deaths are within his modus operandi, at least that of the Gigahorn Elk Lord."

    "What makes you believe that?" If not the elf king, who then could have been able to kill not one but two forest lords?

    " To mine knowledge, the king is a powerful druid, yet he hath no undead in his service."

    "Undead?" Agravaine turned her gaze toward Fredem and the other elves, who looked as astonished as she was. "Why do you think there are undead in the midst of all this?"

    "This is simple. We found a bunch of carrions and other undead along with the corpse. Of course, we got rid of them."

    Undead. Occasionally, one would pop up here or there but the beasts of the forest would not let it roam for long.

    Now, however, a whole herd had appeared, capable of eliminating one of the strongest beings around. It smelled like...trouble.

    "Could it have been the men of the Theocracy?" Judging by his expression, Fredem seemed to share her concerns. "Maybe they have some particularly capable necromancers in their service."

    The Theocracy. In the end, it all came back to that cursed nation. Despite being at war for so many years they still knew so little about their enemies.

    Their hatred was a sword that continually hung over their heads, its swing a daily reminder that they would never find peace.

    The faith of the Six Great Gods preached hatred of the undead, ruthless enemies of the living. But at the same time, they worshiped one as their supreme deity. A contradiction inherent in the doctrine that could have justified the use of those banned arts.

    "We can stand here racking our brains for hours, but it is clear that we are missing key pieces to reconstruct the complete picture."

    Nevertheless, at least they had a starting point, to begin with. More than they had had in recent decades.

    "As soon as we get back, I will prepare suitable teams to investigate. If humans are behind this, I promise I will find out." Proposed Fredem.

    Dear old Fredem. Without him, her work would have been much, much more difficult. And boring.

    "Your Excellency Bombadillo,'''' the forest lord had listened intently to their conversation, trying to assimilate as much as possible. "If it is alright with you, I will leave a couple of my men here. So as to keep contact between our people active."

    "Sure. Granted our size, thou well understand how it is difficult to gather information without sticking out." For a moment the wood giant seemed almost embarrassed by his size. "May Mother Earth bless our alliance. Let the harvest of our partnership be fruitful. Naught is dearer to mine heart than this forest. And I shall do everything possible to protect it!"

    He stood up. Not even the fiercest storm could have brought him down. His body was an impregnable fortress, a masterpiece of nature that divided earth and sky. Having him as a potential ally would have been a great victory for their cause.

    "I promise you that the results will come," Agravaine said, before taking her leave. " You are not the only one who calls this place home, I can assure you of that!"

    Upper Fire Month, 21st day, 8.00

    Aeneas Marte Vicente was on his knees.

    Why was the valiant Black Scripture captain, young prodigy, and ace of humanity in that stance?

    Simple; because before him stood the most illustrious authority of the Theocracy, in whose presence even one in his position was but a wretched man.

    The patron deity of the Theocracy of Slaine. The undead watched over the welfare and preservation of the descendants and followers of the Six Great Gods from the beginning of time.

    Rufus, the first follower of Surshana. Although Aeneas doubted that was his real name.

    His dark cloak engulfed the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the faint light of a few candles; the crystals of his mask glittered with ardor, drawing the viewer''s attention to them.

    The room that served as his study was large and spacious, stacks and stacks of books and scrolls were piled on a gaudy mahogany desk.

    "Can I trust you, Aeneas? What I am requesting you to do is an extremely delicate task. It demands the utmost delicacy and care."

    The undead was now next to him, Aeneas''s head at the level of his collarbone. Strangely, his living corpse emitted no odor. Was this due to magic or maniacal care for his own cleanliness?

    "Forgive me for daring to ask," the boy prayed in his heart that his doubt would not be mistaken for insolence. "But don''t you think you are the most suitable person for this task? After all, you have known her much longer than I have."

    Rufus gently touched his shoulder; the cold chill of his glove spread with speed on contact with his shirt, causing Aeneas to shiver.

    "Antilene and I have discussed this matter more than once. I believe, or rather I hope, that a different voice than usual can more easily convince her of the seriousness of the situation."

    Aeneas doubted that he was the most suitable individual for that thorny task, but the young man did not intend to contradict the ancient protector further.

    The understanding of the human soul and the intricate riddles of the mind had been analyzed and dissected over the centuries by the sacred guardian, the closest being to God who still presided over their sacred land.

    His wisdom shaped the essence of the Theocracy, while his intellect guided humanity toward a prosperous future. In his presence, he was still a silly little boy, not far removed from the arrogant full-of-himself brat who had walked through the sacred doors of the hall of the Gods only a year before.

    "I will see to it that your trust is not misplaced. I salute you, Holy Protector!"

    "I have no concerns in this regard." With a wave of his hand, Rufus pointed him to the exit of the room. "Now go, don''t waste any more time."

    Without being asked twice, Aeneas got up to head to the place where his companion was standing.

    He walked slowly. After all, there was no need to hurry. There was no need to hurry.

    To reach the treasury of the Gods, the boy would have to climb a small staircase that connected the secret quarters with the rest of the Cathedral.

    Upon arriving, he hesitated.

    Aeneas climbed a couple of steps. He stopped, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, which were on the point of cracking. Another step. The image of a bloody face. His head began to spin. What was stirring him up? There was nothing to be afraid of, after all!

    He resumed his ascent. A dangerous urge to vomit took hold of him. A penetrating smell of piss disrupted his senses. Aeneas steeled himself. The destination was almost reached.

    The young boy completed that desperate endeavor. His legs were shaking. His arms seemed to be on the verge of coming off at any moment. Only his fortitude could hold all parts of his body together.

    It didn''t matter. The corridor walls leading to the treasury seemed to him to unfold endlessly. A year had passed. He was not the same as he used to be.

    Aeneas felt crushed, an unseen force cutting off his breath. As he longed for air, there was not even the slightest shadow of windows.

    The young Captain felt the walls closing in; they were trapping him in an endless labyrinth with no way out.

    It was just a bad game of his mind. What was he afraid of? She had never hurt him, except for that one painful time.

    But what if this time was different?

    No, only paranoia devoid of any substantiation. Antilene takes no pleasure in hurting. It was just part of her job, a thankless but essential duty. And he was grateful to her for it.

    Aeneas cursed himself. He realized that he had not matured as much as he thought he had.

    He saw her.

    Leaning as always against the walls near the entrance to the hall, with that perpetually annoyed air. At her side rested the faithful scythe, Charon''s Guidance; perhaps the only friend she had.

    Aeneas wondered if her presence there was really necessary. Had anyone ever managed to sneak in so far as to warrant her unceasing vigilance? Probably not.

    Perhaps she was not the one guarding those sacred relics, but it was these relics that were keeping company to a girl who could not find her place except among those ancient mementos.

    It was not she who was taking care of the legacy of the Gods, but it was the Gods themselves who were protecting the last surviving trace of their lineage.

    An inaccessible temple to call home, dead Gods to act as a family.

    "Oh Aeneas, it''s you!" He did not even need to announce himself; nothing escaped the sharp senses of the ace of humanity.

    "Yes, Lady Zesshi," Aeneas said as he approached her, fearfully. Over the past year, his body had grown to such an extent that he could tower over her, yet the young Captain still felt tiny in the presence of the half-elf. "I hope I''m not inconveniencing you."

    "No, don''t worry. It''s not like there are many things to do here." The girl held a funny cube-shaped object in her hands, measuring a little more than five centimeters on each side and in outward appearance presenting nine squares on each of its six faces.

    Aeneas recognized it as a toy recently launched on the Theocracy''s entertainment product market, which had achieved popularity in a very short time.

    "How did the last mission go?" She continued. "I heard that the Black Scriptures were sent to those wild lands that border the Holy Kingdom."

    "The Abelion Hills," he pointed out. "We took out a tribe of horuner, whose leader had as his project the unification of all the races there."

    "Did you find anything interesting?" Antilene asked. From the beginning of the conversation, she had never looked up from her new toy, even though the results she was getting could hardly be called satisfactory.

    "No, on the contrary. In all frankness, I think Strongest Human alone would have been enough to complete the mission. Though I suppose caution can never be too much."

    It had been since he had begun holding the position as the first seat that he had not encountered a single opponent that required the use of his capabilities. Not that he was complaining about it; the work he was given was already demanding more than enough for his liking.

    "I see." She was obviously disappointed by that statement. "Who knows, if the tribes had managed to unite under one banner perhaps my intervention would have been required. Maybe I should pay a little visit to the Astrology and Oracle Bureaus and convince them to take a well-deserved vacation!" A soft chuckle spread through the room.

    "Please don''t joke about such things, Lady Zesshi!"

    "I thought I told you to call me Antilene, at least when we are alone." She retorted, clearly annoyed at having to make that remark for the umpteenth time.

    "I''m sorry, Lady Antilene!" Calling the extra seat by her first name was greatly inappropriate and disrespectful, in his mind. But contradicting her could have been worse.

    She looked him straight in the eye, turning her gaze on him for the first time since he had approached her.

    Her heterochromatic eyes shone with an intense glow: one as dark as the deepest of abysses, the other as sparkling as the brightest of asters.

    "Don''t worry," she comforted him with a macabre smirk. "I was just teasing you a little; you can understand how boring it is to be cooped up in this place for so long. I just dream of having some action, something to get my blood pumping for a change. That''s all."

    These did not seem to him to be topics on which it was appropriate to joke, but Aeneas decided to remain with his mouth shut. Getting her riled up over such nonsense might have proved counterproductive to his assignment.

    "In any case," her attention returned to the toy she held in her hands. "How are you getting along in your new position? It''s been a couple of months now since you started presiding over your position as Black Scripture Captain."

    "It''s actually been a year, Lady Antilene." He corrected her.

    "Oh!" A little squeak of surprise. "Has it already been that long? You have to excuse me but the days repeat the same one after another in this place."

    Or perhaps it was simply her time perception that was not aligned with that of normal human beings, Aeneas thought.

    "I would say things are going well for now. My comrades listen to my orders and at the same time are a source of valuable advice, especially older members like Strongest Human and Four Great Spirits."

    "I''m glad to hear that. Cohesion within a group is crucial and... dammit! I thought I almost managed to solve it."

    Antilene was still intent on trying to figure out the riddle of the cube she held in her hands. The half-elf had managed to line up all the faces on one side, but after a few ill-considered shifts she had scuttled her small success.

    Now she looked at the toy with slight frustration, determined to complete that challenge it offered as if her very life depended on it.

    "Although," Aeneas tried to distract her from her failure. "Windstride and One-Man Army tend to squabble at the most inappropriate times. Nothing too serious for now, but I hope to reverse this behavior of theirs in the future."

    The relationship between Clementine and Quaiesse was...complicated. There was no other way to describe it. Aeneas was not an only child and could understand the inherent sibling rivalry, but not to that extent.

    "Do you want me to straighten them out? Maybe they need another brush-up of my teachings."

    Aeneas shuddered. Although that disturbing offer was not addressed to him, the boy could not help but feel a shiver of terror run up his body.

    "No, there is no need for that. As a leader, it is my job to provide for the internal relations of my subordinates."

    "Hum, you''re right. However, if you should need my help, please feel free to request it." It was a sincere offer, which made it all the more frightening.

    "I will, Lady Antilene." In his mind, Aeneas marked off the favor his two companions would one day have to return to him.

    "Good, I suppose." That Antilene had hoped for a different answer? "Now, tell me, why did you come here? Although I can perfectly imagine the reasons."

    The moment of truth.

    "The Guardian Deity has ordered me to report to you that we have lost five more reconnaissance units in the last month alone."

    "And...?"

    "We believe it''s your father''s doing. In all likelihood, he has decided to take the field himself."

    He held his breath, expecting an outpouring of anger and contempt.

    "I know."

    Calmer reaction than he would have bet.

    "You...you know?"

    A mocking grin appeared on the half-elf''s lips. "Do you think these are just for show?" She said, pointing to the pointed ears buried under the mass of her hair. "News of the death of a relative of the Water Cardinal reaches even the recesses of the most unthinkable places."

    "So, you''re not planning to do anything crazy and abandon your post, are you?"

    Antilene shrugged her shoulders. "Why should I? I don''t see any reason to leave at the moment."

    That was not what Rufus and the Cardinals believed. The character of their trump card was ... unpredictable, to use a generous term.

    "The higher-ups fear that this sudden desire of your father to participate in the conflict will motivate you to... make hasty decisions."

    The girl emitted what was halfway between a clearing of her throat and a hushed giggle, which in the silence of the place spread with the force of an outburst.

    "Tell them they have nothing to fear." She reassured him. "To begin with, if I decided to leave the Theocracy in any case there would be no one in a position to stop me, or would there? So why worry?"

    "No, you are right." Aeneas could not contradict her. Even if they had brought all the Scriptures together in full, the only certain outcome would have been defeat.

    "And besides," the extra seat continued, "before long it will be the Pontifex and the Cardinals themselves who will be begging me to take the field. Waiting a few more days or months is no problem. Soon, very soon, my destiny will be fulfilled!"

    "What makes you say that?" The girl''s words did not sound like mere small talk, but a pleasant truth that she had waited a long time to proclaim.

    "It''s simple," she began to explain as if it were the most trivial thing in the world. "No one but me is capable of killing my father. And I am sure that not very far down the road something will happen that will convince even our dear leaders of that. If they want to carry out this war, there is no choice left but to let me fight him."

    It was sound reasoning. A heavy weight lifted from Aeneas'' soul; thanks to the Gods, his assignment had turned out to be easier than expected.

    "So do you anticipate an event occurring soon that will justify your deployment?" Certainly not the most optimistic of prospects.

    "Yes, I''m sure of it!" Proclaimed Antilene with brimming confidence.

    She walked toward him. "Here, there are many more in the treasury. Consider it a small gift." The half-elf handed the small cube into the hands of the boy, who stood for a second dazed by the strange offer.

    "Are you sure you want to give it to me?" He said, grasping it gently.

    "Consider it a tiny homage. So maybe next time you won''t be afraid to visit me."

    She noticed.

    "I..." he attempted to say something, but the words remained stuck in his mouth, unable to come out.

    "Don''t worry," a veil of melancholy appeared on her face. "I know it''s hard."

    What made people capable of obeying the Gods'' commands also made them capable of sinning.

    An old saying of his father''s, perfect to describe his callousness. The foolish arrogant brat of a year ago was still alive, not gone as he thought.

    "Next time it won''t happen, that''s a promise!"

    "I''m counting on it! Now go, the day is long and there are many more tasks ahead of you."

    "See you, Antilene."

    They said goodbye with a nod. Embarrassment was in the air.

    Stepping out into the open Aeneas found himself strangely invigorated by the conversation. He realized that while his body was making progress, his mind was still far from achieving the perfection required by his charge.

    The young boy looked at the cube he was holding and, as he made his way to his abode, began to slowly move its pieces, with the utmost care, all intent to successfully complete it.

 Chapter 15: One Day.

    CHAPTER 15

    One Day

    Upper Fire Month, 22nd day, 23.00

    Gazef frowned as he observed the sight before him; a flat silence characterized the surroundings, whose unnatural calm was the source of an uneasiness that ran along the captain''s skin. Not even the sign of the slightest trace of demi-human warriors looming on the horizon.

    He sipped a glass of cool water, feeling the freshness moisten his lips and regenerate his strength. A long night''s watch awaited him in the cold, but that was no problem. Not for him.

    He had seen worse in the past during his life as a mercenary, and it would certainly not be a leathery breeze that would put him out of action.

    The warrior observed the men under his command; like him, they too were on high alert, aware of the onerous task they had been given. Their equipment was well maintained, their weapons ready to be unleashed at any moment.

    "All quiet for now, captain." Iovino approached him, the earth God''s paladin armor shining like a splendid diamond. "Any recommendations you want to impart to the men?"

    "No, they already have clear in their minds the orders they must follow. I don''t want to create too much confusion before the decisive moment. Let them enjoy these last moments of tranquility." He replied, clutching the enchanted blade entrusted to him.

    "Do you think that Cerabrate will be able to draw the enemy army this far? I still haven''t been able to get a clear picture of that man."

    Gazef thought back to the leader of the Crystal Tear. He had seen him in passing only once, when he had shown up on his arrival at Gelone''s fortress, and he had not yet been able to get a clear idea of his character.

    "From what I have heard Cerabrate is an exceptional man, worthy of the utmost respect," he began. "He is an unbridled admirer of the queen and has given her a favorable price for what is an incredibly dangerous assignment. I''m inclined to believe that, at least for the time being, we can trust him."

    "Yet there is something about him that doesn''t convince me." Replicated Iovino, still not entirely persuaded. "Perhaps I just have an innate dislike for adventurers that hinders my judgment."

    "You''d better get over it then," Gazef''s voice suddenly became stern. "In war, it is not good to doubt comrades just because of silly prejudices. Your life could depend on it."

    "You are right, captain!" His second-in-command pulled back slightly, like a child being picked up by his parents. "I will no longer let my biases compromise my vision."

    "All right," for a moment Gazef thought he had been too harsh, but he immediately banished that foolish thought. "Let''s go over the plan one last time, it will help ease our nerves."

    "It''s simple. The village of Rota, more or less a hundred kilometers from here, has been attacked by a horde of Beastmen. Cerabrate has the task of luring them here, into the Weeping Dragon Pass. Thanks to the camouflage spells of our magic casters, they will not notice us until it is too late. At that point, our paladins and the Draconic Kingdom soldiers will lock them in a lethal grip."

    The Weeping Dragon Pass took its name from an ancient legend about how the founder of the Draconic Kingdom shed so many tears for his sons lost during the war against the 8 Greed Kings, that he dug that pass into the ground itself between the mountain range of the Sovereigns of Heaven.

    To reach Gelone''s fortress, the stronghold that guarded the westward passage of the Draconic Kingdom, that was surely the safest method, as it would avoid running into the many races of monsters that lived in the mountains.

    Now Gazef and his forces had secluded themselves above a cove a few meters from the entrance to the pass, camouflaged by the aid of magic.

    "''Everything''s right! Anything you think needs to be added?"

    "Hum..." Iovino ran a hand over his unkempt beard, the hairs stiffened by the cold of the night. "I wonder why Sunlight Scripture didn''t come with us. Their help would have made this battle so much easier."

    "General Barca only mentioned to me an assignment of theirs of the utmost importance, which the fate of the war might depend on."

    "Oh, so this is classified information for us as well."

    Gazef had not yet had a chance to speak in detail with Nigun, the Scripture captain, but he was aware of his unit''s capabilities in "cleansing" nonhuman beings. Capabilities with which he did not always entirely agree, he had to admit.

    He was a warrior, accustomed to wielding a weapon against opponents who themselves had made the same decision he had.

    On the other hand, the Sunlight Scriptures, from what had reached his ear, did not perfectly share this philosophy of life.

    Was he the one who was too naive? He certainly would not have called himself a fine intellectual, capable of discerning the complexities of reality and all the nuances that came into play for the survival of the human race.

    And yet...and yet, part of him, perhaps the dumbest part, wondered if another way was not possible. A way different from the extreme methods by which the Slaine Theocracy was trying so hard to ensure the prosperity of the human race.

    He knew that these doubts of his might be mistaken for blasphemy by ill-thinking ears; since he had joined the Theocracy, he had sought more than once a friendly voice to confide in. But the confessors he had met, however zealous, did not seem to travel on the same wavelength as him.

    Not like that old friend of his.

    "Everything all right, captain?" Iovino asked him worriedly. "You have been running that hand over your right eye for a few minutes. Would you like me to bring you something to clean it? Perhaps the eye got sore."

    Indeed, his fingers had begun to run over the right side of the eye, as if in the grip of a mystical possession.

    "No, don''t worry. An old acquaintance had a similar tic, I think I also acquired it unconsciously." He reassured his friend.

    "No, I''d better get you something. Neglect could prove fatal at a critical moment."

    Iovino turned away momentarily, to take from one of the divine healers a cloth soaked in a medicinal substance.

    Dear Iovino, I am truly fortunate to have you at my service.

    After cleaning himself up, Gazef returned to direct his attention to the cove of the pass where they were hidden.

    For the moment, all was still quiet. But he knew that soon things would change.

    He waited a minute. And he waited some more. The tension was beginning to eat away at him.

    It was a game he had played many times; cultivating his patience while waiting for the propitious moment, yet he still felt as excited and unsure as an unprepared schoolboy before an important test.

    "They are coming." A whisper. One of the scouts stationed at the far end of the hiding place brought the news with the utmost caution.

    Gazef felt a jolt of apprehension, his body stiffened, aware that chaos would soon break through their disciplined formation.

    He swallowed. The muscles tightened. The breastplates of his red armor emitted a dim glow reflecting the starlight. The emblem of the Fire Goddess, engraved at the height of the heart of his cuirass, seemed to be animated with a life of its own.

    "Something is wrong." The scout reported worriedly, a note of turmoil in his voice.

    As the incoming figures began to take shape, Gazef understood. He understood how foolish they had been.

    Cerabrate and his group were heading toward them, just as planned. But, unlike what they had anticipated, the adventurers who had left with him had almost all been exterminated.

    Of the original group, numbering at least sixty members, now only a dozen or so were spurring the weary horses on with their utmost energy.

    "Quick, faster!"

    The Crystal Tear leader incited his men, with a feeble conviction not at all befitting a man of his caliber. Was that fright that Gazef heard in his voice?

    As the group entered the cove, the Slaine captain understood where that agitation was coming from.

    The attackers were far more numerous than they had expected; according to his sources they should not have exceeded a few hundred but that approaching horde was far greater in number than even his most catastrophic prediction.

    Leading the line of Beastmen was an imposing figure whose shadow could have swallowed one of the stars shining in the sky.

    He rode a stall which to describe as gigantic would be an affront to his size. The mount''s face was hollowed deep, and a large, sharp horn towered over its forehead.

    Its red eyes were fiery as hell, and the sound of its neighing spread for yards and yards with the power of a crackling explosion.

    But the rider in the saddle was even more awe-inspiring, as absurd as that sounded. His features were a cross between a human being and a lion; a long, snowy mane crowned his feline head, a fringe of manes hanging from the upper edge of his neck covered much of his face, on whose forehead was set an exquisitely crafted tiara.

    Immaculate white, pure as the snow falling on a forest in winter, was also the color of his fur. The Beastman wore a complete suit of armor, dazzling like the most precious and treasured gold. Behind his shoulders, a colored cloak of aquamarine green waved proudly, giving its wearer the appearance of a valiant warlord.

    At his side, a broadsword whose reach far exceeded any other Gazef had ever seen. He imagined that warrior wielding that mighty weapon, cutting through his soldiers like pieces of paper.

    We must retreat. There are too many of them.

    He raised his arm slightly and enclosed his hand in a fist to give Iovino a sign of their impending retreat.

    His deputy had no trouble understanding the previously agreed signal and began rounding up the hidden men with the utmost diligence, ready to flee as quickly as possible.

    But something strange happened.

    The demi-humans, having come within a few meters of the entrance to the pass, stopped. Their commander looked around for a few seconds, contemplating the view.

    After addressing a few words to some of his subordinates positioned in the second row, which neither Gazef nor the scouts of his unit could discern, a handful of men with wolf-like features, covered in long dark cloaks, began making strange movements toward the entrance of the pass.

    Once they were done with those strange rituals, they began to point out the location where Gazef and his men were hiding from their general.

    Shit. They found us out.

    The lion-man remained in contemplation, giving no hint of the slightest movement. Finally, he emitted a roar whose gasp spread throughout the valley, bringing terror to the ranks of Slaine''s men.

    After a few moments that seemed eternal, that fearsome army turned around, raising an immense cloud of dust as they departed.

    Gazef stood motionless, stunned. His nerves were on the verge of bursting from his temples. Why had they not gone ahead with the assault after coming all that way?

    Even if they had been aware of their presence, the difference in numbers was so abysmal that they would hardly have found it difficult to annihilate them all.

    Perhaps they did not have an accurate idea of how many men were hidden in the creek of the pass, and so they had thought it more prudent to backtrack.

    Or perhaps...something else was in the air.

    "Captain, how should we proceed?" Iovino asked him, also shocked by that turn of events.

    "For now, let''s rescue Cerabrate''s unit. We will decide after we hear how things went in detail." Gazef commanded, still unsure of what to do. A streak of worry began to peep on his forehead.

    "Roger that. Let''s get this done right away!"

    Iovino gathered the members of his unit, heading in the direction of the other group.

    After realizing that they were no longer being pursued, Cerabrate and his fellow sufferers had decided to catch their breath, taking advantage of that momentary instant of rest.

    Gazef noted with apprehension the pitiful state of the most valiant knight in the Draconic Kingdom. His armor was covered with dents and bruises, losing part of the splendor that characterized it. On his right shoulder was a deep cut that had completely broken the shoulder strap.

    Rivulets of copious blood gushed from the exposed skin and, judging by the Holy Knight''s expression of pain and suffering, the wound that had been inflicted was very deep, perhaps even reaching the bone.

    "Fuck it, fuck it!" The champion''s shrieks of frustration filled the surroundings, his hoarse voice clashing with the religious silence of his other companions.

    "Don''t struggle like that, or I won''t be able to cure you!" A young woman tried to tend his wounds with a healing potion, achieving little result.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Damn it, Lilianne. How can you be so calm after they killed Talico? Wouldn''t you like exterminating all those filthy beasts? Right here, right now?" Cerabrate blurted out, still in pain from the wound.

    "Of course I do!" She retorted; her large amethyst eyes on the verge of tears. "But for now, we must think of those who survived, like you!"

    "Bah! Sorry, it''s just so ... frustrating," Cerabrate replied, his face lowered in shame. "I didn''t think they would inflict such a sound defeat on us. Maybe we have sinned too much in pride lately."

    "...I know. Now let''s think about recovering." Lilianne begged the wound with a gauze she kept in a small woven hemp bag.

    Meanwhile, Gazef and Iovino had joined the surviving adventurers.

    "What happened?" Gazef asked, the wrinkles in his forehead contracted in the center, unable to hide his concern. "I thought you were sure that in facing the Beastmen there would be no difficulty."

    "Well, it didn''t go as we planned." The Holy Knight responded with a scowl. He had taken off the silver helmet he usually wore, revealing a tired, sweat-streaked face. His usual histrionic smile, capable of giving confidence to even the most skeptical and fearful of soldiers, had been replaced by a dull, despondent stare.

    "At first things were going just as we had planned. We arrived at the village of Rata, carried out a lightning strike against the demi-humans, and wiped-out part of their troops." Lilianne began to explain, running a hand through her short black hair.

    "But then," Cerabrate continued. "We were attacked. By the group led by that impressive lion man. I have met many Beastmen lords since the war began. But one so terrible, never. It was like being trapped in a nightmare from which you can''t wake up. He reduced me to this pitiful state with just a couple of lunges." He pointed to the wound that was still bleeding on his shoulder. "If Talico had not rescued me in time, I would now be smashed in an anonymous village. Not her."

    "From what I was able to observe, he appeared to be a terrifying opponent." Gazef was seized by a shudder, just remembering the features of that colossal creature. "But I ask myself why he decided to let you go. Not that I am complaining about it, mind you. Only, I find something strange about the whole thing."

    "I think it was ... a test." Lilianne ventured, glancing for assent from her companions. "There was something strange about these Beastmen."

    "What do you mean?" Inquired Iovino, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

    "They were trying military strategies copied from us, however rudimentary. They copied the classic stealth assault by a specialized unit with which we routed them more than once in the last skirmishes." Speaking this time was Imilcone, the third remaining member of the Crystal Tear. "We were just a test bench for them. I suspect they left us alive because they were eager to learn more from us."

    "Nonsense!" Cerabrate shouted, a glutaral sound coming from his mouth. "Those animals have never shown any familiarity with any form of tactics since they began this conflict. Why would they start now? It must have been just a fluke!"

    Imilcone did not seem to share his leader''s viewpoint. "As much as I would like to agree with your words, I don''t think we should underestimate them. Look at what being overconfident in our methods has led us to, just because they have worked in the past."

    Cerabrate did not respond, merely hitting the ground with his still-healthy arm, as if that futile gesture might have brought relief to his state of mind.

    "Did you notice anything else strange during this encounter of yours?" Gazef interjected. "Every smallest detail could prove crucial for the future."

    "Yes..." Lilianne hesitated before gathering the courage to answer. "Magic."

    "Magic?" What was strange about that? Indeed, it was normal for a well-trained army to have capable spell casters.

    "Did you notice that too, Lilianne?" Imilcone scratched his right cheek, evidently uncomfortable. The fingernails croaked on his unkempt beard, causing a screeching noise.

    "I admit that I have difficulty understanding what is so troubling about it," Gazef confessed, unsure where that concern of theirs came from.

    "Until now their magic casters were few and unorganized. Now, on the other hand, I''m sure I''ve seen third-tier spells, as well as various enhancement spells."

    "They are adapting," Imilcone observed the spell staff he always carried with him. " If things proceed at this pace, soon we won''t be able to contain them anymore."

    Gazef thought back to those strange figures he had glimpsed earlier. It was very likely that they had discovered their location through a tracking spell, but so why retreat? More importantly, what magic thyme had he used to locate them?

    "Shamanic magic?" He pondered aloud. "That they used that to be able to detect us?"

    "It didn''t seem arcane, like mine. Nor do I think it belonged to the divine branch. So, it''s very likely." Confirmed the enchanter of Crystal Tear.

    "In any case, I would say we would be wise to return to Gelone''s fortress as soon as possible. We must inform General Barca of what happened."

    Gazef turned his face to the sky. How strange, they had not had any fighting but he still felt depleted; that first battle, already over before it had even begun, had taken a toll on his body.

    Looking up at the stars, the former mercenary wondered if he was the man best suited for the task. Foolishly, he silently hoped that their light might dispel the dimness of his doubts.

    The enemies still hid several pitfalls to be discovered, would he be able to foresee them or would he be overwhelmed like a fool at the first opportunity?

    He could wield a sword, at least he could boast that. But military tactics? Predicting the enemy''s future moves? Could he confidently claim to have the necessary knowledge?

    "Captain Gazef, what should we do?"

    "Let''s retreat. We will study a plan of action at the fortress."

    He could only hope that soon his worries would find peace.

    Upper Fire Month, 23rd day, 6.00

    Dawn was making its entrance into Silksunteck''s heaven. The sky was limpid, the air lent itself to make room for the first rays of the sun while a small breeze was still blowing over the city.

    The low humidity of the north wind allowed the viewer to look at what was around with new eyes: everything was pulled together; everything was bright as if someone had removed a veil from the eyes that men and women alike didn''t know they had.

    Antilene contemplated the spectacle from the window of her room, watching the courtyard of the Cathedral of Darkness slowly beginning to come to life.

    The first prelates and bishops assigned to the morning services were already in position, to fulfill their duties: some tended to the church garden, others prepared to declare the first sermons of the day, and a small group cleaned the immense statues placed at the entrance.

    Antilene pondered for a few more seconds, still groggy from the morning wake-up call. Her tousled hair mirrored the still confused state of her mind.

    She yawned. Her rumpled robe wrapped her trained form, heating her numbed limbs with a welcoming warmth.

    Heading to her private bathroom, the half-elf began to rinse her body, still dizzy from sleep. The sleepy face gained a hint of acumen and radiance after it was deftly cleansed with water gushing from a small shower head powered by tier zero and one magics.

    Another day commences.

    Antilene opened her vast closet to survey what would be the most appropriate outfit for the day. She opted for a black skirt with small streaks of white and a cotton sweater, colored beige, on which were affixed small buttons also decorated with black and white, or more generically light and dark, alternating surface symbols.

    The humanity trump card completed the task by resting the ornament in the shape of a cobalt rose, Nazaire''s latest gift, on the top of her right breast.

    After dressing, she looked at herself in a huge mirror, positioned on one of the living room walls. Her ears stuck out resolutely from the mass of her hair.

    The half-elf took a brush carefully stored in one of the closet drawers and began to tidy up that thick, disheveled mane. Gathering most of her hair into a thin ponytail, extended to the height of her feet, she began to arrange the foliage on the sides of her head.

    First the right side, an ebony black hid in its color the first object of shame.

    Then the left side, an ivory white concealed from view the legacy of that cursed lineage.

    Now I am perfect.

    The not-so-young girl enclosed the remaining hair in two voluminous-sized hair clips and headed for the kitchen.

    She opened the cupboards; nothing that caught her attention or desire loomed in her sight.

    I might pop into town and have breakfast at some inn or buy some sweets. How long has it been since I''ve been downtown? Two weeks? Three? Surshana, maybe even a month!

    Determined not to rot another minute in that boring place, she slipped on her socks and boots, ready to pay a visit to the outside world.

    Her hands brushed against the doorknob as she realized she had forgotten a vital object for her outing.

    For a moment, I almost thought I was normal.

    Resting on a nightstand near her bed was a small box, inside of which was kept a magical object of the utmost importance.

    It could have been called a platinum earring, but it had a special feature that distinguished it from other precious items. Embedded within it was in fact a small gemstone, whose magical properties allowed the wearer to slightly alter his or her physical characteristics.

    In Antilene''s case, it would have made her elven features less recognizable to sight.

    Her skin would lose some of the perfect smoothness that distinguished her father''s race, appearing rougher to casual observers.

    Her body would exchange the slender shape for one more curved by a few millimeters, while her tips of the ears would flatten.

    The changes were minimal, nonetheless. Anyone with even a superficial familiarity with the half-elf would have had no trouble recognizing her or her lineage. But for not standing out in a crowd, it was more than a perfect tool.

    Now that she was ready, Antilene could head freely toward her destination.

    After descending the stairs of the Cathedral, she popped into the main hall of the church, reserved for ordinary religious services.

    Given the early morning hours, not many people were there. Mostly a few deacons, intent on tidying up the various shelves containing items for religious services and cleaning the hall''s immense floors.

    One image caught her attention.

    Near the central altar, there was a man. And that man was on his knees, deep in prayer.

    His body showed the inexorable passages of time: withered skin of an unpleasant dusty brown hue had lost the whiteness of youth; wrinkles contoured his face as if they had been there since the dawn of time.

    The physique was frail and helpless, bones were visible within the folds of the clothes. It was not difficult to imagine a soft breath of wind carrying him away as if he were a slender sheet of paper.

    The headgear he wore on his head, from which spilled a sinuous and thick multitude of shrunken gray hair, accurately indicated his rank within the ecclesiastical hierarchy of the Slane Theocracy.

    He was Zinedine Delan Guelfi, Cardinal of Water.

    What is he doing here? Is he in adoration?

    Accustomed as she was to meet Cardinals only in mostly military contexts, Antilene did not always realize that her nation''s foremost authority was first and foremost a religious, rather than a political, leader. At least to the common masses.

    And indeed, seeing him from afar, even the most secular of men could not have failed to admire rapturously the grace and devotion with which he recited his invocation.

    "O Surshana, almighty and eternal, Lord of the living and the dead, full of mercy toward all your creatures, grant forgiveness and peace to all our departed brethren, that immersed in your bliss they may praise you without end."

    His voice was faint but firm. In the silence of the Cathedral, it resounded like an angelic choir benevolently embracing the first morning visitors.

    Could he be asking for mercy for the soul of that nephew of his who had gone missing in the war?

    The half-elf listened in contemplation to that plea, undecided about what to do. Finally, for a whim or other reason that she could not clearly explain, she positioned herself a few feet from the man, kneeling as he did.

    The cardinal immediately noticed her but continued undaunted with his prayer. Except for a brief initial nod, neither of them exchanged any interaction with the other.

    They remained together, their legs touching the floor, their heads lowered, their mouths expressing words filled with veneration.

    "From the depths to you I cry, O Surshana;

    Lord, hear my voice.

    Let your ears be attentive

    To the voice of my supplication.

    If you consider the faults, Surshana,

    Lord, who can resist thee?

    But with you is forgiveness:

    so shall we have your fear."

    They prayed like this, together. In reality, only a few minutes passed; in their hearts, lifetimes.

    As she concentrated in meditation, the past began to unfold before Antilene''s eyes.

    An image came to life. An elderly woman, plump-looking and kind, was helping a little girl with a dull smile cross her fingers and ask the Gods for help.

    Another woman, younger than the first but still no longer in her prime, joined them.

    Just as Auntie Nazaire and I did. And... her.

    When they were finished, they stood up, still not addressing each other. Only a sincere nod of the head was addressed before they each went their separate ways.

    The rays of the sun, now high in the sky, illuminated the path shaping a radiant road.

    Walking the streets of the capital, savoring the penetrating smells of the city, and feeling the fresh air tickling her face, was a refreshing experience for the half-elf.

    When she served at the Cathedral, she was the ace of the Black Scriptures, one of the two surviving Godkin, the disciple of the tutelary Deity of the Theocracy of Slaine. She was Antilene Heran Fouche.

    Now, however, she was none of these things. To that passerby she had just brushed past, she could have been the blacksmith''s or tailor''s daughter.

    To that old woman who greeted her politely and with a smile full of affection, she was the betrothed of a young soldier or the new apprentice of a magical researcher.

    To those children skipping rope she was just a dull adult, devoid of any attractiveness. Just one face among many others.

    But to all of them, she was something more... She was free.

    Who knows what it would be like to unleash these impossible dreams of freedom? I could leave here and no one would be able to stop me. Yes, I could do that.

    A life whose path was not already charted, in which there were no limitations except those she wanted.

    She looked up at the sky. Affixed to an administrative office, the flag of Theocracy flew high and proud in the sky.

    Her heart missed a beat.

    But I won''t.

    "Welcome!" A welcoming voice greeted her as she entered the small bakery.

    An elderly-looking woman was intent on arranging a varied assortment of cakes and other confectionery in the store''s display cases.

    "How can I help you?" She asked her, still intent on sorting the treats on the counter.

    Antilene did not need to think much about it; she had made up her mind even before she entered the store.

    "Six pastries, three with cream and three with black cherries, please."

    "Coming right up. Just a second to put the freshly baked goods in place. I opened the shop just some minutes ago."

    "Sure, I''ll wait."

    The half-elf moved her head, bored. The place was small, but well-kept. Not a trace of dust or dirt was visible, nor any other detail that might have been unsightly.

    As her eyes darted from one spot to another, she noticed a small figure forcefully clutching a stuffed bunny.

    A little girl, probably the owner''s daughter, was sitting in a small chair near the counter.

    Her gaze was lost in the void as if she were in a different world than the real one. She wore a cat clip in her long brown hair, the size of which was pathetic compared to those that adorned Antilene''s head.

    "Who are you?" She had noticed the half-elf''s steady gaze.

    "I am..." Antilene pondered carefully before answering. Obviously, she could not share her true identity with a mere peasant girl. "Nazaire. Yes, that is my name. And yours, little girl?"

    "Marguerite. Marguerite Cara Loi." She replied shyly, her hazel eyes unable to sustain Antilene''s stare. "And this is Mr. Plompfkel. Say hello, Mr. Plompfkel."

    The little girl moved the toy''s patched arm, trying to make it show off in sumptuous reverence.

    The eventual result was more akin to a silly ballet, but it still put the half-elf in a good mood.

    "Nice to meet you, Mr. Plompel!"

    "No Plompel. Plompfkel!" She corrected her sharply.

    "Sorry for the rudeness. Let''s try again. I am Nazaire and it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Plompfkel!"

    This time the child seemed satisfied. She began twirling the bunny around, making him try his hand at somersaults and jump across the counter.

    "Hey, lady, why do you look so funny?"

    Despite her earring, Antilene''s appearance still retained some peculiar features, which to the child''s eyes must have seemed unusual, especially as the double color of her hair.

    "That''s what I was born with," she said. "You are right, it''s very odd."

    "And you like it that way?"

    Such a trivial question, but one that the half-elf had never thought about in her long existence. Or perhaps she had never dared to.

    "Yes." She thought back to when she had seen herself that very morning in front of the mirror. "Yes, I like it that way."

    "Oh, I see."

    Marguerite had already lost interest in her, and after hearing the answer she had resumed fiddling with Mr. Plompfkel.

    "Here you go." The confectioner interjected, handing her a small bag containing her order. "It''s five copper coins. I hope my daughter has not bothered you."

    "No, no trouble at all," Antilene replied, still amused by Mr. Plompfkel''s performance. "She is a very sweet little girl."

    "She is my joy. I''m so proud of her. Just..." The woman''s forehead wrinkled, clearly disturbed by something. "Lately it hasn''t been easy. Raising her alone, I mean."

    "Is the father no longer with you?"

    "He is...he was a paladin stationed in the forest of Evasha." The baker drew closer, in such a way that the daughter could not hear the rest of the conversation. "He has been listed as missing for six months now."

    "I..." Antilene did not know what to say to comfort her. "I''m sorry!" These were the only words she could string together.

    "I appreciate it." She offered her a smile, more to hearten herself rather than Antilene. "He...he served the Gods to the end. Nothing could have made either of us happier. Sorry if I bothered you."

    "It''s ok. May the Six Great Gods bless your family!" The half-elf handed her the sum due, before taking her leave.

    "Likewise to you. I hope to see you again soon!"

    Back in her apartment, Antilene began eating the pastries she had purchased. Normally their taste would have been a riot of sweetness and flavor, a symphony for the taste buds.

    Yet, when they touch my tongue, I feel only a bitter taste tickling my palate. If it were not for me, there would be no war. If it were not for me, Marguerite''s father would still be alive.

    Guilt is a powerful weapon, with the potential to inflict deeper wounds than even the armaments of the Gods would have been able to do.

    The spears of the strongest men cannot scratch my skin, the sharpest swords fail to cause even the smallest cut. But a woman''s words stir me more than I would like to admit.

    Din. Don. Din. Don.

    The loudly tolling bells rang out like hymns in the Cathedral. Their slow pulsar reproduced countless shades of sound, like so many varying moods.

    It is time. The Gods are calling.

    Din. Don. Din. Don

    Some are convinced that the tolling of bells is a mirror of the soul of the city. That the Gods communicate with us through melodies, for their words are incomprehensible to ordinary men.

    That it was a sign then? That the auspicious hour had arrived? Perhaps Surshana, Alah Alaf, or someone else of her ancestors was warning her.

    They were warning her that the auspicious time had come.

    One day the war would come to an end. One day.

    But that day was not today.

 Chapter 16: Stories

    CHAPTER 16

    Stories

    Upper Fire Month, 30th day, 8.00

    "The training is almost finished, Antilene."

    Her body twisted as if performing an elegant dance, a strange choreography in which the tool in her hands had transformed into an instrument marking the rhythm of her performance.

    The weapon had become a natural extension of her body, similar to a limb that accompanied the half-elf since birth.

    The patron deity of the Theocracy had summoned some wight generals thanks to his skill, using them as guinea pigs for his ward''s training.

    The spear brandished by the girl shone like a small star in the ajar darkness of the arena, gleaming like the most precious of crystals.

    Even the most experienced soldiers would have been challenged by the undead prowess, but in the face of the half-elf''s overwhelming strength, they had proven to be helpless piglets in the face of a great predator.

    The spear''s tip, encrusted with precious gems that increased its power, smashed through the rotting bodies of the undead, reducing them to dust scattered across space.

    "Excellent!"

    Antilene felt a surge of pride grow inside her chest as Rufus'' solemn voice permeated her elves'' ears.

    "Do you think that''s enough for today?" She inquired; her gaze fixed on the shining lance in her hands. Drops of sweat poured from her brow like a spring of pure and limpid water.

    "Yes. Although it has been a long time since you wielded it, I am proud to say that mastering Peleus'' legacy was a challenge you successfully completed. By now, you know everything about the Gods'' sacred equipment." Rufus lowered his dark hood, exposing a portion of his rotten skull.

    Anyone who would have witnessed such decay of flesh and limb would have been terrified and disgusted, unable to hide his dread.

    Nothing, however, was more familiar and comforting to Antilene than seeing her master in his true form. Each time he revealed himself to her in his full appearance, she felt their bond grow stronger and deeper. Something that only the two of them shared.

    It was ironic that something as deteriorating as a living corpse could serve as the foundation for such a strong structure of trust.

    "I continue to feel more at ease with Charon''s guidance." The half-elf replied, still a little tired from the arduous training. "To be honest, I believe the sacred relic of the Earth God is still better suited as Aeneas'' weapon."

    "The young captain has certainly cultivated the right affinities for using the sacred legacy of the God Imirduo," Rufus replied, touching his temple in thought. "But I don''t think I need to tell you what the fundamental difference between you and him is. And why is essential that you learn to use all the Gods'' equipment."

    "No need to worry. It would be difficult to forget something like that." The Black Scripture ace''s lips curved in a small, satisfied smile.

    "In any case," the undead''s tone of voice softened. It was an unusual, almost never-occurring experience. "I believe it is time for you to relax in a hot bath. Even I can smell your¡­peculiar scent now."

    Was that a grin? That he is growing in his sense of humor?

    A definitely chilling thought. Rufus already possessed the skills and authority to silence a room only with his imposing presence.

    As the first disciple of the God of Death, his person was worshiped almost on par with a deity in the flesh -pun intended-.

    But if her master started to think of himself as funny, he wouldn''t need his creepy appearance or unusual demeanor to achieve that result anymore.

    The image of that familiar collection of bones and flesh performing a zinger in front of the Cardinals and Pontifex, who responded by remaining silent in order not to offend his position, was especially amusing to the half-elf.

    Indeed, a rather pleasant scene. Maybe seeing it wouldn''t have been so bad. At least one time. Or two.

    "I''ll take a bath then." Anyway, Antilene had to concur with her master. Strange odors were beginning to emanate from her body, which she would have preferred to avoid altogether.

    "I''ll wait here for you." Replied her teacher, trying to put together some rotten skin that was decaying from his check.

    Antilene went to the restroom near the gymnasium where they had been training. She immersed her tired body in that restorative embrace after filling the tub with boiling water.

    Nothing better to give these tired old bones a rest. Well, not as tired as Rufus'', I guess.

    A muffled sound crept gently into her ears as she was intent on relaxing and shaking off the weariness caused by her dedication.

    Oh, I hadn''t heard that melody in a very long time. How nostalgic.

    Notes from Rufus'' violin glide gracefully over the strings of the musical instrument. At first, softly, enclosing the half-elf''s mind in an enchanted dream.

    A rainbow of sounds appeared in her mind, and a parade of colors marched through her imagination, from darkest to lightest hues.

    Her muscles regained vigor and vitality, as if from a massage performed beneath her skin. The peace around her was as flat as the desert steppes surrounding Eryuentiu and as silent as Azerlisia''s snow-capped mountains. Another dimension altogether, devoid of any form of conflict and suffering.

    But all of a sudden, the noise became coarser and more intense. The serenity had vanished, and another modulation had taken its place.

    The rumbling roar of an army of horsemen charging infernal hordes, as loud as thunder splitting the vault of heaven in two, was now the object of her fantasies.

    Antilene''s thoughts were no longer of serenity or relaxation but of great and epic battles that would etch her name in the rivers of history.

    She stood above an infinite number of monsters and other abnormalities that threatened her home, like the most valiant of the knights. A bygone era''s hero, worthy of immortality in minstrel ballads and being remembered as a champion of humanity.

    Eventually, the sound became sad and melancholy. It had the flavor of nostalgia, of a past age that was fondly remembered. The ace of humanity''s memories of Nazaire''s homemade meals became more vivid as she recalled her old wet nurse; the sweetness and love of her cooking, of her affection, was a blow to the half-elf''s heart, who could barely hold back the tears that started to peep in her eyes.

    But there was also hopelessness in that melody. The soft wails of desperate mothers who had lost their children; men who buried their brothers and sisters with all their strength, foolishly refusing to mourn the fallen.

    It was a song, a song of war and reminiscences. Of hate and love.

    When it ceased, Antilene stepped out of the tub. Her being back to full strength. She felt as if the world was too small for her, as a worthy challenge called in hope to be accomplished.

    The half-elf dressed and returned to her preceptor, by now intent on placing his instrument back in the precious case.

    He had re-hidden his blasphemous features under the layers of clothes, cloaks, and gloves that shielded the outside world from him. Or that protected him from the outside world.

    "It''s been a long time since I''ve heard you play."

    "Yes," the undead replied to her, contemplating the object between his fingers. "This old violin is like me. If it is not used for a long time, there is a risk that someone will forget about it. I hope I haven''t disturbed your moment of relaxation with my modest strumming."

    "No," retorted the half-elf with a caring half-smile, hoping to comfort him. "It was very...nice. You know I always like to hear you play."

    "Unfortunately, the time to devote to music is not always as much as I desire." Was that bitterness she read in his eyes? Or remorse?

    "I thought the time was the one thing you didn''t lack," had her voice reached the soothing tones she was trying to convey? "That neither of us was short of it."

    "Maybe when you have something in abundance, you don''t realize how fast it can slip through your hands." He peered at the finely carved mahogany wood case with guilt, bordering on shame. "Or maybe, it''s just an excuse we say to ourselves to feel better."

    "Rufus?"

    "Yes?"

    "I will never forget you!"

    "¡­I know." What were a corpse''s tears made of? Blood? Dust? Or simple nothingness? "I know. I will never forget you either, little Antilene."

    "I''m not little anymore." An adorable pout peeped out on the half-elf''s face.

    "To me, you will always remain the shy little girl who entered one day through an immense gateway, squeezing into her arms for courage." Rufus laughed; the sadness on his face was replaced by a pleasant memory.

    "Am I not adorable now?" She accused him, conveying false displeasure.

    "Humph." He did not take up her provocation. "Shall we go?" He asked her, stowing his items in an infinite haversack. "We still have a long day ahead of us."

    "Yes." Antilene picked up Peleus'' Legacy, gripping it tightly. "We must take this little one to where its friends rest."

    "Okay," Rufus began to walk -actually, floating would have been the more indicated word- toward the treasure room. "I want to compile that memorial for Captain Guelfi before the day is out."

    The corridors of the Cathedral of Darkness were, as usual, empty and lifeless. Almost as if even the smallest sigh could have disturbed that unreal peace, not even a whisper could be heard in that sacred place.

    Antilene and her guardian, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, walked down a small corridor that led to the shrine''s treasury. Not a word was uttered between the two, but embarrassment was hardly noticeable.

    When two people have known each other for years, or rather centuries, useless words were replaced by silences denser with meaning.

    Who knows what will happen today? Something interesting or the usual monotony?

    Before entering the hall, the girl turned her gaze to one of the windows placed on the sides of the hallway.

    "Look, Rufus, it''s raining today."

    "I noticed," actually the patron deity did not seem to have paid much attention. "You can see that the Water Goddess has granted us her blessing today."

    Rather than speaking of rain, it would have been more accurate to define the outside event as a storm. Even from the view clouded by the glass, it was possible to perceive the clamor of the wind and the intensity with which the water was descending on the land.

    I suppose staying enclosed here all the time sometimes has its advantages.

    "I hope all this water doesn''t cause problems for ordinary people." A slight bending of concern was present in her remark.

    "Nothing to worry about," the undead reassured her. "This is also a gift, a precious gift sent by the Gods. The men of the Theocracy, as you well know, are more than capable of harnessing it."

    "You are right. But I can''t help but worry. Stupid, I know."

    "That''s normal. You have watched over the people below for so long that you believe their welfare is also part of your responsibility." Now he was the one trying to comfort her. That was how their relationship worked. When one of them fell, the other was ready to catch him.

    They made each other stronger.

    "Do you think I should let go more often?" Was her question.

    "I think your apprehension is a precious treasure. More than your powers, your talent, your strength, that is the characteristic that most attests to the fact that the blood of my creators flows in you." Was his sincere reply.

    "Thank you." It was the only thing Antilene managed to say. But even though it was a mere single sentence, it was more than enough to express how she felt. Sometimes the only alternative is to take old words and hope they can say something new together.

    They arrived. Rufus threw open the doorway that divided the remnants of a time now past and unreachable from the rest of the world.

    Who is he?

    Before them, they found a figure with a bowed head, contemplating the circular effigy depicting the symbols of the Six Great Gods, positioned in the center of the room.

    As soon as the man noticed them, he hastened to perform a sumptuous bow, his torso reaching the width of a right angle with superhuman speed.

    By his side, a few books and a familiar headdress floated, shrouded in a shimmering violet light.

    Ah, now I recognize him.

    The half-elf had no trouble identifying him now that she watched the man better. He was, after all, one of her direct superiors and the current Cardinal of Darkness of the Slane Theocracy.

    Maximilian Oreio Lagier.

    "I apologize for disturbing you, Lady Zesshi, First Disciple," he was calm and composed, not a single emotion leaking from his words filled with respect. "But I wanted to request access to one of the journals of the Six Great Gods."

    The thick lenses of the glasses he wore reflected a twinkle of curiosity and thirst for knowledge from his brown eyes.

    "Hum," Rufus considered the question, squaring his interlocutor carefully. "Which one, in particular, would you like to examine, Shard of Surshana?"

    The Cardinal returned to expressing reverence by contorting his body into a second bow. His long, sinuous hair, the same color as his irises, slid gracefully over the cloak that covered his shoulders.

    "I need to reread the accounts left to us by Alah Alaf, your Holiness." The way he scanned his words, the inflection of his voice, and the reverence that seeped from his every single gesture, made Antilene certain that that simple request had been practiced hundreds and hundreds of times until perfection was achieved.

    "In accordance with protocol, there should be no problem," the undead began to elaborate. "First, however, it is necessary to explain in detail the reason for the request."

    "Certainly," Maximillian fiddled with the hairs of the small goatee sticking out of his chin, as he searched for the simplest way to explain his motivations. "My department and the judicial branch are working on drafting a new civil code. Rereading the notes inherited from the God of Light is crucial to the initial phase of the project."

    The Patron Deity wasted no time in giving his response. "The request is accepted but," he continued, staring at the man from his high posture, "the reading may take place only in the confined space of these rooms, under my complete supervision."

    "Of course. I defer to the will of the First Disciple." The cardinal willingly accepted those conditions without batting an eyelash.

    "Then, wait. I will go and get it from my personal library."

    Having said this, in the blink of a second, Rufus made his way to the room where all the writings attesting to the history of the Theocracy were kept under his care.

    Left alone, an uncomfortable quiet fell over Antilene and Maximilian. After putting the sacred spear back in its place, the Black Scripture ace pondered what was the proper thing to say.

    This is my first time left alone with him. What is the best method to melt the ice? Think, Antilene, think.

    "So," the half-elf began timidly, to end the uneasy silence. "Why is it necessary to compile a new civil code?"

    "Oh," the man gave a little cry of surprise, shocked by that seemingly trivial question. "The current one dates back more than a hundred and fifty years ago. We felt, me and the higher echelons of the judicial department, that it was time to update it with the many laws that have been enacted in this long span of time."

    Antilene had to admit to herself that she couldn''t clearly understand the meaning of that choice. "Is it really such an important task?"

    "Crucial!" Maximilian replied in a burst of pride. The way he expressed his emotion was in stark contrast with the idea of the austere man the extra-seat of the Black Scripture had of him. "Simplification is the basis of an efficient legal system. When laws are clear and not scattered, investment is encouraged and the welfare of the population grows."

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    "The mechanism by which all of this works is not entirely understandable to me." She admitted with embarrassment, a slight blush on her cheeks.

    "How can I explain it to you?" The Cardinal interjected; his bright, intelligent eyes stopped on one of the books floating at his side. "Imagine that you are a merchant who wants to expand his business and open another store in a different region from where he currently operates. If the legal system does not work, then his competitors will be able to act unfairly against him to hurt his affairs without him being able to do anything to be able to stop them, at least without resorting to the same dishonest methods."

    "Without laws therefore there would be chaos," Antilene continued. "At least I can claim to know that."

    The cardinal nodded at her constatation. "When the state acquires a monopoly on what we call public force," Surshana''s fragment had resumed with his explanation, "it puts an end to the chaos, but on it also rests responsibilities to ensure swift justice for its citizens."

    Maximilian handed her one of the writings he always carried with him. The rough cover of the book was grasped with precision by the half-elf.

    "If the legal system is slow, if the laws are numerous and confusing, court disputes will drag on for years, and legal fees will be a noose around the entrepreneur''s neck. In that book I just gave you, notes on canon law, it is precisely explained how this process comes to life in the various stages of civility. I wrote it myself; I hope you appreciate the gift." He smiled for the first time since the conversation began.

    Contrary to what Antilene might have assumed, his happy face was more radiant than a ray of sunshine.

    Never judge a book by its cover. I suppose.

    "I think I am starting to understand it," ventured the half-elf, in truth still not entirely convinced. "Conversely, if the legal system works and is efficient, the hypothetical merchant will be able to start his new business with less worry. And even if there should be a dispute, it will be resolved quickly. Right?"

    "Exactly," confirmed the former judge. "Of course, things are more complex than that. But I think you have a rough idea of the situation."

    "And to be specific, what kind of problems does a judge as you deal with?" Antilene''s face contracted into a curious expression, her mind hungry for wisdom.

    "I am no longer a judge," he corrected her. "But I would say that my old job consisted of..."

    "Stories!"

    Rufus had returned from his brief excursion from his library, as always without making not even the shadow of a noise; beside him, a pair of manuscripts hovered in the air in the same manner as the Cardinal of Darkness moved them.

    "This is certainly an interesting way of looking at things." Rebutted the Surshana fragment.

    "Alah Alaf himself used to call stories the focus of a jurist''s work." The undead handed the objects of his research to Maximillian, who clutched them as if they were more precious than his own life.

    "I think I''ve lost my train of thought." Confusion could be read as easily as a child picture book in Antilene''s eyes. "What do stories have to do with it now?"

    "Do you remember the legend of the Great Penitent?" The Guardian Deity questioned her, even if he was already aware of her answer.

    "Of course," the half-elf still did not catch on. "I have heard it so many times that I can recite it by heart."

    "And..?" Her master urged her.

    "It goes back to the time when the Gods had just descended to our mortal plane. It is the story of a man who tried to steal a magical item sacred to the Deities."

    "And do you remember why he did that? And how did the story end?" Her mentor''s haughtiness was beginning to irritate her.

    "Starting from the motives, I''m sure the man wanted to use that object to heal his sister of an illness deemed incurable. When Alah Alaf learned of this, he decided to forgive him for his misdeed. The man, to repay him for his generosity, became one of the most fervent followers of the God of light."

    Antilene did not have to think much about it; it was a story that anyone who had lived in the Theocracy for more than a year was bound to know. "It is one of the classic fables told to show children the generosity of the Gods."

    "Everything you have said, Lady Zesshi, is absolutely correct," the Cardinal interjected, adjusting his glasses, which were falling on his nose. "But let me humbly explain what the First Disciple is trying to tell you."

    "Go ahead." She urged him.

    "To begin with, you should know that this fable, as you called it, is one of the first topics covered by new law students. It is considered, by legal historians, to be the first evidence of trial within the Theocracy."

    "That I can comprehend." Her gaze turned to the cardinal; the color of her pupils reflected in the glass of the man''s goggles. "But why then are stories the object of lawmen''s work?"

    "What did the God of light do, before passing judgment, but eviscerate the sinner''s personal story? Only when he understood deeply his motives, his personal life, and his circumstances, he was able to make the decision that proved most effective."

    "Alah Alaf was convinced that it was the natural duty of the judge, before passing his verdict, to analyze every last detail that had prompted the person to commit the crime," Rufus had assumed his usual professor-like manner, immersed in the memories of his creators. "That way the punishment to be applied would be as fair as possible. The gaze of the Gods, after all, is directed not only toward the present and the past but also toward the future."

    "That doesn''t sound like something easy." Antilene pondered while her eyebrows furrowed.

    "No, it isn''t," Maximilian confirmed. "Numerous mistakes, no matter how relentless our efforts and no matter how much magic may come to our aid, are made every day. Be aware, spells can help us discover the how of a crime, but not the why. Nevertheless, what comes after the crime itself is discovered and judgment is passed is still part of our duties . Everyone deserves another chance to be able to serve the words of the Gods."

    In that case, however, a person''s life and future could depend on these mistakes. It was an onerous, extremely delicate obligation on which an individual''s entire future could hang. Perhaps she was not the only one on whom deep responsibility rested.

    "But, isn''t there a risk that such a painstaking search could lead to slower proceedings?" If speeding up the process was one of the goals to be achieved, wasn''t what had just been explained to her a contradiction?

    "There is." His preceptor and the cardinal replied in unison. "This is precisely why the law is an incredibly delicate matter, the interests to be taken into account are many and varied. Nevertheless, it is our sacred duty to move forward and try to reach God''s perfection."

    The Gods could count on infinite wisdom and foresight beyond human comprehension to be able to assess what was the best course of action. But men cannot. We are fallacious and imperfect. How can we compare?

    "Thank you for the explanation, Cardinal Maximilian." She lowered her head slightly, in appreciation. Her gesture was appreciated by the Cardinal, who reciprocated.

    "Now I think it is time for me to go about my business. Excuse me."

    Maximilian holed up in a secluded corner of the room, where he could begin to calmly study the manuscripts.

    "I had better position myself on guard as well. See you later, Rufus."

    Rufus looked at his disciple, merely nodding his arm in greeting before returning to his duties.

    Out in the hallway, leaning against that now-familiar wall, Antilene began leafing through the gift she had received.

    She read a couple of pages. She reread them again. And then another time.

    This is much more difficult than I thought. But in order to understand our society, it is an essential step.

    Alone in the darkness, the half-elf spent hours immersed in those rivers of ink, searching for answers to her lingering queries.

    Upper Fire Month, 30th day, 8.00

    Logem knocked on the small wooden door. No response.

    He knocked again. No answer. The rays of the morning sun warming his skin were beginning to annoy him.

    He knocked a third time. Still nothing. Should he have forced the lock, he asked himself?

    He knocked... Agravaine opened the door, glaring at him.

    "You could at least give me time to open it before you try to break down the door."

    "I''ll try to be nicer next time," he replied, settling into the small living room without waiting to be invited in. "How are things progressing?"

    "I see you''re not paying compliments," Agravaine admonished him after she noticed that the elf had already sat down in a chair pulled up next to the table. "Things haven''t changed much since the last report I sent you. The forest roads have never been so calm; both factions are too afraid to penetrate into Evasha''s interior."

    "I see." That was Logem''s only observation on the issue.

    "Our alliance with the Wood Giants has brought many benefits. Other than their military aid, they do not need food, but they manage to produce plenty of it through their Druidic magic," the woman continued, without waiting for further exhortation. "In return, all we have to do is provide them with information about the war. A truly lucrative deal, don''t you think?"

    "Yes," the man''s nose curled slightly, intent on a deep sigh. "Agravaine, we need to talk!"

    "I know," the elf was certainly not easy to catch off guard. And after working with the former hero for so many years, she had learned to recognize instantly when something was perturbing him. "Otherwise, you wouldn''t have come here!"

    Logem began fiddling with the pendant he wore around his neck, its rhomboid shape passing swiftly between his fingers. A memento of another time, another life. "You see..."

    "Wait," his interlocutor interrupted him. "Let me make some tea first, to make you comfortable."

    Logem knew he did not deserve all that thoughtfulness, but he dared not contradict her. He merely gave the woman a nod of assent with his good eye and contorted his face into a semblance of a smile-more correct to call it a grimace-to let her know he appreciated the gesture.

    "Would you like some milk?"

    "Yes. Please pour it into the glass before the tea. I prefer it this way."

    "Here you go."

    Logem took the bowl containing the decoction, being careful not to scald himself. As he savored the drink, a taste reminiscent of the velvety texture of milk tickled his palate.

    "So, what should we talk about?" Agravaine had sat next to him, also intent on sipping the tea from a little cup.

    Logem thought about what was the best way to break the news. Try to go around it, and tell a half-truth? Or attempt to sweeten the pill?

    He looked at Agravaine. Any attempt that was not the plain and simple truth would have been discovered in a split second. She knew him too well.

    "Argland. We can no longer sort refugees there."

    She said nothing. Her silence was more unnerving than any words he could have imagined.

    "Why?" Merely asked the elf.

    He tried to look into her eyes, but their color brought back too many painful memories; so, he lowered his gaze, like a coward.

    "My possessions are overflowing now. And the elves'' deputies have too many exiles at the moment. They barely know how to handle the current ones." He began to explain, trying to put the best words together. "Also, there seem to be some problems at the border. And the various representatives think it is more prudent not to worsen relations with the Theocracy."

    "What kind of problems?" Agravaine took another sip from her glass, the trembling of her hands unable to hide her discomfort.

    "I don''t know all the details exactly. They merely told me that one of the empires to the north is developing a strong expansionist policy after a long period of civil war. The dragon advisors believe that, for now, it is more far-sighted to cultivate relations with neighboring states, partly to avoid a new wave of evacuees, especially from the north." If there was anything the elf could not stand, it was having only cursory information about something that concerned him so closely.

    "They have therefore decided to abandon us to our fate? Leave us all to die here like animals?"

    "Yes."

    The woman remained motionless for a few seconds, without uttering the slightest sigh. Then she stood up, put down the now empty cups, and said, "Okay, we need to find other safe places for our refugees. Some can hide in the territory of the wood giants, while we can try to sort others out in some nearby nations such as the Baharut Empire or the Kingdom of Re-Estize. They don''t look kindly on us elves either, but still better than the Theocracy. Besides, it will be good not to separate too many families, especially ones with children. We will have to prepare homogeneous groups and make sure adequate support is provided. And then..."

    Words began to pour out of his mouth like water out of an overflowing stream. As if she did not need to breathe, she spewed all her anxieties and fears at him.

    "Calm down," Logem intimated to her. "You can calmly think later about what will be the appropriate course of action."

    "Oh yeah?" She replied, clearly irritated. A throbbing vein was visible on her forehead. "You may not have noticed, so immersed in your grand plans, but there is a war out there. And hundreds of our kind are dying every day!"

    "Do you think I don''t know that?" They were both raising their voices, totally unlike them. "But if you let yourself become discouraged you will only make things worse. Didn''t you say things have been proceeding slowly lately? We''ll find a solution, don''t worry."

    "I... I don''t know if I can trust your words." The anger was gone, replaced by another kind of emotion. One that Logem knew all too well.

    "If you don''t believe in me, believe in yourself." He pointed his finger at her, almost as if he might be accusing her. "If anyone can help our people, it''s you."

    "Do you really believe that?"

    "...Yes, I really believe that."

    She hugged him. Her breath caressed his chest as the heat of her body enveloped him. "I''m sorry I got so worked up."

    "You took it much better than I did."

    "What did you do?"

    "Let''s say that, for a while, one of the representatives will share a characteristic in common with me." He pointed to the area of his face where his missing eye once used to rest. "Don''t worry, unlike me, he will be able to recover his sight in a few days. Maybe a few weeks."

    A laugh at last. Too bad it was consumed with the rapidity of a fire fueled by a small match.

    "When is this going to end?" Why was she looking at him like that? As if he had all the answers to her questions? He was not the rope to hold onto to keep from slipping into the abyss. Not him. "Will our suffering ever come to an end someday?"

    "I made a promise to you when we met, remember? One day I will kill our father! On that, you can be sure." It was an oath he had made in blood, and he would carry it with him until he died.

    He would make it a reality, or perish in doing so.

    "I just want the war to end. It has been going on for more than a hundred years. And I... I feel I have now reached the limit. Or I am on the verge of it. All I see is a bottomless ravine. A hundred winters of hardship, a hundred springs of sorrow, a hundred summers of despair, and a hundred autumns of regret. That''s too many, Logem, even for an elf."

    Agravaine''s voice was broken with tears. He was one of the thirteen heroes, immortalized in legends and stories told in every corner of the world. So why couldn''t he stop her from being so sad? Those tears caused him more pain than all the battles he had fought with the Evil Deities.

    They were more poisonous than the venom of that horrifying Insect, more lacerating than the sword of the Fiend Knight, more insidious than the words of those accursed Brothers. Facing the Demon King''s magic, too, would have been a more pleasant prospect.

    Hero. What an empty word devoid of any meaning. A term attributed by fools to even more foolish men and women. Just because I am called that, in no sense means I can make the impossible possible.

    "Now I must go," as he headed for the door, an unbearable weight seemed to block his legs. Yet nothing was blocking his path.

    My body implores me to stay here and rest. My mind pleads with me to let go of my goal, just for a day. An invisible force appealing to my whole being, to try to preserve what remains sane in me.

    He arrived at the door. Agravaine was next to him, ready to give him her greetings.

    But my soul triumphs once again over common sense and reason. As it always has, and as it always will. Am I a fool? Yes, I am sure of it. But in my insanity, I have given meaning to this pathetic life. How many can say the same?

    As they took their leave outside the dwelling, the great star in the sky greeted them with the most sincere and warmest of his salutations.

    "I am sure that one day all the king''s children will be able to look up to the sky and see hope in the sun''s rays." Contemplated Agravaine.

    "The problem is that the king does not produce offspring," said Logem, ready to go his own way, "but only martyrs."

    The day had passed as quickly as it had begun. Agravaine was right, not that he doubted her, but that unreal calm was more frightening than any magical beast he had ever faced.

    I could even dispense with my ranger skills to blend into the vegetation. It seems unreal, is this the real Evasha''s forest?

    By now the sun had given way to its sister moon. The darkness of the night was much more pleasant for the elf, who continued to wander among the foundations. Looking for anything that could arouse his interest.

    He arrived at the shores of a lake. Moonlight reflected off it, weaving a marvelous optical illusion of a glowing path of light straddling the surface of the body of water.

    So beautiful.

    For a moment, just for a moment, Logem forgot about the conflict, about the Theocracy, about his plans. Of everything.

    Only he and that fairy spectacle remained.

    Could this be the fairy path of which the legends speak? How ironic, if indeed a nonbeliever like me is the first to find it.

    He squashed that silly thought. Of course, it was just a natural phenomenon. Only a corny poet could have found something magical in that mundane landscape.

    Again, he thought about the conversation he had that morning, and the sorrow his sister was feeling.

    If only one of my plans had succeeded. But no matter how hard I try, I can''t find a way to get rid of that bastard.

    He began to run his index finger over the scar covering his lost eye. Would he ever be able to get rid of that tic?

    The last plan also proved to be a failure. If only I could ascertain the existence of that supposed wonder child.

    He scratched even harder, feeling that before long the blood would start gushing from the old wound again. But he could not stop. He didn''t want to stop. The relief was too much.

    I am pathetic. If only I were stronger.

    The laws that governed the world knew how to be unjust more than any bureaucrat. The last decades spent training had proved perfectly useless; it was as if his limit had been reached centuries ago when he was still a wayfarer.

    Bah, feeling sorry for myself is not my style. Perhaps it is the sight that drove me to this melancholy, better to leave.

    He resumed his walk, the time for rest was over.

    "Are you going somewhere? Why don''t you stay here a while with me?"

    Just as he heard that voice calling him, he noticed that his surroundings had changed. A layer of fog had covered the area entirely, blocking part of his peripheral vision.

    "[Search][Spot]"

    He activated his ranger skills to locate the source of that call.

    "No need to get worked up. I''m right here."

    To his surprise, the mysterious interlocutor appeared before his eye without even trying to hide.

    "Who are you?" Logem asked, mist still covering the figure of the other party.

    "A friend." Now that he heard it more clearly, the elf had no doubt the owner of that voice was a woman.

    Slowly, her silhouette took shape. It was unusual. Definitely not an elf, but neither could she be called human.

    Everything, from her appearance to the sumptuous, jewel-covered clothes she wore, was of an immaculate, resplendent whiteness arousing wonder and admiration. Dust and dirt seemed completely foreign concepts to her, while the candor of her skin shone with blinding purity.

    She moved with grace and elegance, her every step showing confidence and assurance. It was the gait of a queen, of a woman aware that she was worth more than any treasure existing in the world.

    "Stop!" Logem intimated to her, when she was now only a few meters away from him.

    Now he could see her face clearly; he realized that was the first time he had seen such a breathtaking woman. Maybe he should have let her come a little closer, let their bodies merge, and then...

    No, what am I thinking? Maybe I am under the effect of a charm spell? But my medallion is supposed to protect me from all the tier 5 and lower magic that provoke negative status effects.

    He unsheathed the short sword he always carried with him as he tried to keep his mind clear of unnecessary thoughts.

    "See, you have nothing to be afraid of. I''m not moving from here." The woman had stopped at his command, raising her hands to show him that he had nothing to fear. Her nails were so long and thin, it was not hard to imagine them intent on piercing a man''s flesh. Logem imagined those hands penetrating his whole being as a shiver of pleasure shook his entire body.

    Each syllable she uttered was like sighs whispering phrases of love and lust to the elf''s chest. Every phoneme sounded a thrill to his ears. The man felt himself flaming, in the grip of an unknown desire. His cheeks turned bright red like the fiercest flames, and his heart began to beat faster and faster, trying to escape from that cage in which it was trapped. The symbol of his manhood straightened to pay his respects to such an awe-inspiring vision.

    Was that concupiscence?

    "I don''t know what you are doing, but I command you to stop! Or I will be forced to take action!"

    The woman reacted with a satisfied grin at his angry outburst, like an adult watching a child try to foolishly imitate grown-ups.

    "So, you can stand your ground? That''s to be expected, from one of the Greed Progeny."

    "What did you call me?" Asked the elf, astonished and intrigued by that strange name. His mind was finally beginning to return to normal, his thoughts becoming sharper again.

    "Oh," the woman replied with a smile filled with surprise. Logem noticed at that moment that rather than teeth, she had sharp jaws inside her mouth. "I beg your pardon. If I remember correctly in these parts those like you are called Shards of Sin. Perhaps that name is more familiar to you."

    "It still doesn''t ring a bell." Why was she apostrophizing him with those strange nicknames? What were they hiding?

    "Well, it doesn''t matter," she chuckled. The sound of her snickering sounded like a wail from the depths of hell.

    "Now, tell me what you want!" Logem puffed out his chest, to show her he was not fearful. Or perhaps to prove it to himself.

    "No need to be so hasty sweetie," rather than trying to calm him down, she seemed intent on teasing him. Was it fun to see him so agitated? "I bring you good news after all."

    "If this is just a diabolical prank, I swear..."

    "The one you are searching for exists."

    "Who?" Inquired the man, baffled.

    "The person you''ve been chasing for such a long time," she explained curtly. "The miracle child."

    "And how do you know I''m looking for them?" He clicked his tongue, producing a dry noise. "More importantly, how are you certain of their existence?"

    "Questions, questions. Aren''t you happy to know that your dream is about to come true?" She stared at him, expecting an answer. There was none. "I notice from your serious look that you are not entirely convinced."

    Logem stepped back, expecting an attack at any moment.

    If a fight breaks out, I can''t imagine myself coming out on top. I''d better think about finding an escape route.

    "So, you don''t intend to trust me?" The woman remained motionless, with no intention of changing her position.

    "So far you haven''t given me any motivation to do so." The short sword continued to be unsheathed, to measure the distance between the two.

    She looked at him, her irises also pure white as snow, like the rest of her body. That look would have bewitched even the most chaste of men.

    "What if I told you that one of my companions met him? Even if he is now unable to tell a soul about it." Rather than regret the subject in question, she seemed amused.

    Whatever had happened to that self-styled comrade, she must have found it vaguely humorous.

    "Even if I were to believe you," the elf ventured a modicum of trust, "why are you telling me all this?"

    For the first moment since that strange encounter had begun, she gave him the semblance of a serious answer. "Call it simple curiosity. Or maybe I have some secret plan that I can''t reveal to you. Which of the two, I wonder."

    "Do you find all this funny?"

    "Very!" She didn''t even attempt to disguise her perversion. A trickle of disgust took root in Logem''s soul.

    "I''d say it''s time to say goodbye," with a clap of her hands, the fog began to dissipate. "I am curious to see what your future will be like, son of the king."

    How does she¡­

    And just as the woman had arrived, she disappeared.

    Was it a dream? Or reality?

    What had happened? Had he fallen asleep or had that strange apparition actually happened? More importantly, had she told him the truth or just a silly story?

    Still confused by the meaning of the woman''s words, the elf began to think about that revelation he just received.

    The twitch on his scar grew even stronger.

 Chapter 17: Duties

    CHAPTER 17

    Duties

    Middle Fire Month, 8th day, 10.00

    "They keep coming."

    Gazef observed the throng of refugees that was massing at the gates of Gelone''s fortress gate.

    From the top of the rampart where he stood guard, each of them looked like just a small ant, waiting to be crushed. Their despair seemed only a distant matter that did not concern someone as lucky as he was.

    "Even today, they came by the hundreds," Iovino observed, remembering the crowds of previous days. A note of bitterness was present in his voice.

    "By now, almost all the villages and small towns in the vicinity should have remained empty. Well, if we don''t count the Beastmen."

    "And their trapped victims." Reiterated his subordinate.

    The thought of what was happening to those poor, unfortunate souls caused Gazef''s heart to plunge, as he cursed his uselessness once again.

    What a coward I am. I should be out there fighting. Not in here, waiting for orders.

    "Although it sounds strange to say," Iovino continued, his gaze always downward. "Those poor people waiting to be sorted like beasts were the lucky ones."

    "I wish there was something I could do to speed up the process," Gazef confessed, worried that the heat of the day might have harmful effects, especially on the elderly and children. "But I guess these procedures are to ensure that each of them has a comfortable space and a proper meal."

    By now, the stronghold had almost reached the limit of people it could accommodate. Continuing at this rate, they would soon have to start preparing escort teams, to evacuate civilians to safer areas.

    "It seems that in a few days, the cavalry of the Baharut Empire should arrive to support us." Iovino seemed excited by the news. As far as Gazef knew, the cavalry under the Bloody Emperor''s orders was one of the best chosen-corps among the neighboring human nations. "General Barca is already starting to prepare small reconnaissance teams so that he can get a clear idea of what is going on outside."

    By now, more than a week had passed since they had found it more prudent to remain inside the fortification while they reorganized their defenses. Nothing of note had shaken their days, luckily. But the continuous arrival of men and women at their gates meant only one thing.

    Gazef observed his second in command. Although those last few days had been characterized by a flat calm, the tension that was beginning to appear on his men would have been noticed even by a fool.

    I wish I could do something to restore the courage of my underlings. If only I were a more capable commander.

    "If the worst comes to the worst," Slaine''s captain began, addressing his deputy. "The survival of you and the other members of our unit takes precedence over everything. That is an order."

    "You know very well that we can never leave you alone to face those... "

    "That is an order!" Gazef was astonished at the authority with which he had given that command; perhaps he was not entirely to blame as a leader.

    "Yes, sir!" Iovino replied, slightly astonished by that assertive statement. "You have my word that I will do everything to ensure the life of our squad!"

    Birds of a feather flock together, after all. In his situation, I would do the same.

    A weight lifted from the ex-mercenary''s heart. At least he now knew that his men would not throw their lives away for a war that was not their own.

    "Commander Stronoff," one of the Draconic Kingdom soldiers had approached them. "General Barca requests your presence. The war council will begin shortly."

    With a nod, Gazef indicated that he understood the call.

    "Iovino, while I am busy, oversee the daily training. Also," he pointed to his comrade the crowd massed below. "Check to see if there are any men fit for combat who could be enlisted. Having a few extra reserves never hurts."

    "I won''t let you down, captain!"

    And with that said, the two separated.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The room where the war council was held was located in the highest part of the castle. As soon as he entered, Gazef immediately sensed the air of anxiety and concern that lingered among those present. Feeling choked for a moment, he breathed deeply to regain his composure.

    "Ah, Master Stronoff. I see you have arrived." General Barca welcomed him, inviting him to join the small group. "Now that you are here too, we can begin."

    A total of eight people were present, including Gazef.

    In the center of the table where they had gathered, General Hamilcar Barca had placed a small-scale replica showing the part of the Draconic Kingdom where they were currently located.

    The man massaged his well-groomed goatee as he gazed thoughtfully at the model before his eyes. At his side were two women dressed in military garb, covered in beautiful armor the color of jade.

    "I hope I have not kept you waiting too long," the former mercenary apologized. "I got here as soon as I could."

    "Nothing to worry about. You are right on time," Cerebrate, who was also present, comforted him. His armor had been repaired from the damage it had sustained last time and had regained its former luster.

    The adventurer offered him a hand in greeting. Since they had spent that bad time together in the Weeping Dragon''s passage, a certain cordiality had been formed between the two.

    "I''d say we have a lot to discuss," another of those present took the floor. Nigun Grid Luin, current captain of the Sunlight Scripture, was certainly not a man who liked to get lost in unnecessary pleasantries, especially while working out a war plan.

    "Before you arrived, Sir Stronoff," the man''s face was a mask of impassivity. But Gazef sensed that in pronouncing his name, the scripture captain had not been able to help but show a certain distrust of him. "The general was giving us news of the latest sightings of the Beastmen."

    "I see," now Gazef had also turned his attention to the table where they had encircled. "And so, what do the latest reports say?"

    "Here and here," the general pointed to two parts west of the scale model fortress, marked by a small figure. Probably to indicate points of interest. "The Beastmen have established bases of operations, using the old towns and nearby villages as footholds."

    "We don''t know what happened to the trapped inhabitants but¡­ " For a moment he lost concentration, as a disturbing image began to peep into his mind.

    "I think everyone here has an idea of what happened to the citizens left behind. Please, general, go ahead." Nigun urged him. Indeed, he was right. A detailed description of all the possible scenarios of the fate of those humans would have done nothing but bring down the morale of those present.

    "Very well," General Barca had regained his composure and resumed his explanation. "From what we have been able to extrapolate, our opponents are setting up some siege machines. Towers, mostly. But also rams, ballistae, and catapults."

    Disheartening news, but not unexpected. Gazef was aware that a siege would soon begin toward their stronghold.

    "Do we know how many there are, more or less?" He inquired, turning to his colleagues.

    "We can''t say for sure, but at least thirty thousand. If not more." Cerabrate answered him, a drop of sweat soaked his forehead.

    "So at least twice as many as our current troops. Now that''s very good news." Gazef replied with a note of sarcasm. "As for the reinforcements to come from the Empire?"

    "Three thousand." The dry answer only confirmed how desperate their situation was. "And I''m sure if things get bad, they have orders for immediate retreat."

    This was not a decision to be condemned, Gazef reflected. If the Draconic Kingdom capitulated, the next human kingdom at risk of invasion would be the Baharuth Empire. That the Blood Emperor wanted to lend his support, but at the same time guaranteeing the survival of his troops, was ruthlessly logical.

    "I mean, at best we barely have a little less than half of their troops. The advantage that our defensive position gives us is virtually nullified."

    If a demi-human soldier was on average physically stronger than a human soldier, that large disparity in numbers would have been too great an obstacle to overcome. Even with the protection that the citadel walls provided.

    "We cannot afford a prolonged siege. Our actual supplies cannot sustain us for long; if we were to be isolated, they would barely last a few weeks. And even if we can use magic to at least guarantee nutrients for our troops, that would have a frightening effect on morale."

    The food produced by magic guaranteed all the nutrients of ordinary ones. But it was so tasteless that it was a pain to swallow.

    How General Hamilcar managed to maintain a semblance of calm was inexplicable.

    In his place, Gazef would have already been overcome with despair.

    "So, what''s the plan?" Cerabrate asked. The anger he felt toward the Beastmen seeped from his every word, impossible to tame. "Shall we go and confront them in open confrontation? I have an old score to settle with that commander of theirs."

    "That would be madness," Nigun intervened. Despite having remained perfectly impassive after those last remarks, there was an even greater hatred for the demi-humans in his eyes than that felt by the Holy Knight. "Even with the help of our angels, we would be overwhelmed in no time."

    "And so, what do you propose to do?"

    "Gentlemen," the general resumed the floor. "We absolutely cannot let Gelone''s fortress fall. Should that happen, the Beastmen would have access to the entire western part of the kingdom. At least a third of our territory would fall into their hands, and at that point regaining the lost lands would be an almost impossible task."

    "Don''t worry," Nigun replied to him with a smile so cold and ruthless that it could have frozen the room. "That''s why we''re here, isn''t it, Khajit?"

    "Of course, Captain Nigun."

    One of the last two presents, who had remained silent up to that point, started to speak. He was a man not too tall, with a hunched back and a bald skull similar to that of a skeleton. His complexion was cadaverous, as if he were in the grip of some deadly disease.

    He wore a long scarlet red robe, devoid of special features. The only thing that stood out was a silver medallion which was engraved with the symbol of Surshana.

    At his side was a female figure, also wearing her companion''s distinctive clothing, but with a hood concealing part of her face.

    Gazef noticed, however, a pair of completely white pupils casting him a look full of curiosity. For a second, he felt himself blush slightly, his cheeks tinting the same color as the robes the two wore.

    I didn''t expect to be so weak to feminine charms.

    He regained his composure, just in time to hear the man resume his speech.

    "With my countryman," Khajit''s voice had something sinister about it, ringing like a funeral dirge in everyone''s ears. "We have prepared a plan that could guarantee us victory. Or at any rate, give us the greatest chance of repelling the invasion."

    "Tell us about it." The general urged him.

    Khajit began to explain the machinations he had hatched with Nigun, leaving no detail aside. When he had finished, everyone remained silent, unable to utter a word.

    "This is blasphemy!" Cerabrate was the first to stir that stalemate. "As a follower of the Four Gods, I cannot accept a plan that goes so against the dictates of my faith. Passes for previous times. But now we are crossing the line!"

    Gazef could not fully agree with the Holy Knight''s words. But he understood where they were coming from. Surely, many members of the clergy would not accept such an unconventional plan.

    Nevertheless, it was probably the best alternative they could count on at the moment.

    "Tell me, Cerabrate," Nigun pinned him down, without using any form of honorific. It was clear that he considered him inferior. "What do you fight for? Money? Fame? Honor? Or for the salvation of the citizens of your kingdom?"

    "I..." for a moment the leader of Crystal Tear found himself displaced by those not very veiled accusations. "I fight for something greater. For love!"

    So, could the stories of the Draconic Kingdom champion''s infatuation with his queen be true?

    Thinking back to the pretty little girl he had met in the throne room, Gazef found it strange that someone could be infatuated with such childish forms. But according to what he had heard from the tonnage soldiers in the fort, in her adult appearance Queen Draudillon was a woman of incomparable beauty.

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    That Cerabrate had fallen in love with her, therefore, was not altogether so strange. Indeed, ballads about impossible loves between knights of humble origins and nobles of high lineage were certainly not uncommon. Both during his days as a mercenary and as a champion of the Theocracy he had heard countless of them.

    Usually, these stories had a tear-jerking happy ending with the two lovers who, after overcoming every difficulty, succeeded in crowning their dream of love. But there were also tales with more tragic endings, in which one or more of the lovers lost their lives.

    A happy ending, in these hard times, would certainly not be unwelcome.

    "If you fight for love," Nigun certainly did not seem to have given more weight to the Holy Knight''s statement. "Then you should be ready to make sacrifices. If your feelings are sincere, of course."

    "You damn¡­ " Cerabrate seemed on the verge of losing his temper. Gazef sensed that he was about to reach for his sword.

    "I''d say it''s time to hear General Barca''s opinion," the former mercenary interjected, hoping to focus attention on himself. An argument between the two of them was something to be avoided at all costs at the moment. "Personally, although I am not entirely convinced of the success of this plan, I cannot find a better alternative. So, it has my vote. But it''s up to you, General, to have the final say."

    The questioned man had continued to look at the table in front of him, lost in thought. The women at his side remained impassive.

    "I¡­ " he began, trying to be as clear and direct as possible. "I agree with this tactic you have developed. As supreme commander of this stronghold, I am called upon to make difficult decisions. If there were any other way, rest assured that I would follow it. But, for the time being, this remains the best choice we have."

    "Perfect," Nigun replied, with a smug expression of satisfaction. "Then I will personally go to the Theocracy to have what we need delivered. In the meantime, my men will be under the command of my deputy, Ian."

    The Sunlight Scripture captain bowed slightly before taking his leave. "Don''t worry, I will return before those beasts can have time to start the siege." His face contorted into a grimace full of excitement, almost seeming like that of an exalted person. Or of a madman. "The Gods guide our actions, gentlemen. Rest assured that we will triumph over this ordeal."

    And having said this, he walked out of the room. The sound of his boots echoed forcefully through the walls.

    "I''d say it''s time for us to depart as well, there are still many preparations to be made before the fateful day." Khajit apologized. Like his countryman, he too was heading for the exit. "I will bring reports in the coming days to the commander to inform him of the progress of the plan."

    Compared to Nigun''s proud gait, his walk was more like that of a snake slithering before attacking its unfortunate prey.

    The woman accompanying him also took her leave. Before she left, however, she whispered a sentence in Gazef''s ear.

    "I am very curious to see what you are capable of, Sir Stronoff."

    Her words sounded as sweet as honey in the captain''s head, who found himself for a moment enveloped in a strange feeling of pleasure.

    Before he could reflect on what he had been told, the woman was gone. As if she had never been there.

    Still left confused, it took him a few seconds before he realized that General Barca had dismissed his guards and Cerabrate as well. By now only the two men were left in the room.

    "Are you staying here, Stronoff?" He asked him indifferently.

    "Excuse me, general. I will return to my posts at once."

    "Why don''t you remain here for a moment to keep me company? I''ll offer you a good glass of wine." The man had walked over to a shelf a few feet from the table, from which he had pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

    "Actually, I¡­ "

    "I insist."

    One glass certainly couldn''t hurt. And it would help ease my nerves. Gods know if I don''t need it.

    After thinking it over, Gazef gladly accepted the glass he was offered. Together with his superior, he savored the drink. The sweetness of the wine tickled his taste buds as he felt slightly intoxicated by the alcohol.

    "Good, isn''t it?" Hamilcar asked him, although he seemed to already know the answer.

    "I am not an expert. But I find it excellent."

    "Wine from the vineyards of Re-Estize. The best counselor, in wartime. If he gives you good advice, you can take credit for it. If he gives you bad judgment, you can blame it all on alcohol."

    The general let a bitter smile escape as he continued to drink from the goblet.

    "A leader who gets too carried away with it, however, could have a terrible effect on the morale of subordinates." Gazef could not help but notice. He too continued to savor the wine.

    "Hehe. That''s why I like you, Sir Stronoff. You are honest and forthright. You''re not afraid to say what you think. You are a man who can always be counted on."

    Slaine''s captain felt momentarily uncomfortable with those unexpected compliments. He scratched his nose slightly, looking embarrassed.

    "I''m nothing special. I don''t deserve all these compliments."

    "Maybe you''re right." Hamilcar looked at him carefully, searching his face for answers he could not find elsewhere. "Do you think I made the right decision? I don''t mean from a strategic point of view, but from an ethical one."

    "Does it really matter, for a general? In the end, what matters is victory. If you win, you are in the right. If you lose, you are in the wrong. Isn''t that how it works in war?"

    History was not an impartial judge. Choices were judged after the fact, based on the results achieved. It was not fair, but that was how things worked. And that was always how they would work.

    "We men create laws to try to escape this rule. But when we have to face the harsh reality, we are reminded how small and insignificant we are. Every human life is worth the same, but not when fighting. Like the greediest of merchants, I must put a price on the lives of my subordinates, and reason in terms of pros and cons. Of profit and loss."

    "Should the Theocracy succeed, perhaps we can finally say goodbye to this world of conflict. And maybe human life will no longer be valued in such inhumane terms."

    "Do you think so?" Doubt characterized the general''s expression, his face contracted into a grimace. "Even if there were only human beings in the world, do you truly believe that conflict will disappear from the face of this planet? Look at the empire and Re-Estize. It doesn''t seem to me that other races are contending for their territory. Yet, they keep fighting each other."

    Gazef for a moment did not know how to respond. He put the glass down on the table and looked at the model on it.

    "I can only pray to the Gods. A fool like me can do nothing but cling to a vain hope, to give a little meaning to a life full of tribulations."

    A mercenary life spent fighting. A warrior''s life spent serving. In the end, nothing had really changed.

    The same little boy trying to grasp something he could only glimpse, never able to feel satisfied.

    No matter how much he kept walking, that light at the dimly shining end of his path was only receding, as if mocking him.

    "I wish I had your faith, Sir Stronoff."

    So do I.

    General Barca carefully stowed the bottle and glass. A small hint of satisfaction might have been visible, were it not for the grave expression he carried with him.

    "Now I think it''s time for us to part. We both have many things to take care of."

    Gazef performed a military salute, bringing his arm to his chest. "With permission, I will return to my duties."

    The Slaine captain headed toward the center of the fort, where Iovino and his men were waiting for him. He did not look back.

    Middle Fire Month, 15th day, 13.00

    Antilene was exhausted. Not even half a day had passed, but she was so bored. It seemed strange, since she had done nothing relevant all day.

    But sometimes, even immovability can be a hard burden to carry. Her eyes observed the toy in her hands. A small wooden figurine, which depicted a woman warrior with long, black hair.

    It dated back to her childhood, and although the signs of time were evident, it still remained in acceptable condition. It could very well have still made a child to whom it had been gifted happy.

    Even though I am terrible with people, I can take decent care of things. I seem to be reliable on this at least.

    As she was lost in her thoughts, a burst of unpleasant laughter, similar to the croaking of a frog, crept into her ears.

    "Hey! Did you see the way that vampire was squealing? Who knew bloodsuckers could still externalize such human emotions? I wish I could have left him alive a little longer, to continue enjoying his screams full of pain and despair."

    A melodious voice echoed through the halls. It was as innocent as that of an infant, although the words being expressed were anything but as sweet as what might have been expected from a toddler.

    Antilene had heard by now that dismissive tone so many times that she had no trouble recognizing its owner.

    A woman with blond bob hair approached the treasury, accompanied by a small group of her peers. The Black Scriptures.

    "Humph, it''s not like you''ve done that much on this mission," a man at her side replied. He was the spitting image of the woman; no one would have a hard time believing the two were twins. "If Edgar hadn''t immobilized him, you wouldn''t have even been able to approach him. And if I had not given you the ointment to give your weapons the properties of silver, you would not have been able to do even the slightest damage to him, Clementine."

    "Blah, blah, blah. You''re boring as usual, Quaiesse!" Clementine''s face contorted into a sneer laden with derision. "It''s not like your pets have been much help, have they? Maybe you''re just jealous for being useless as usual? Do you want Big Sis to give you a spanking later?"

    "I''d really like to see you try. Although we both know who always comes out on top in a confrontation between the two of us." The brother answered her, with a smile filled with derision.

    "Why don''t you two finish it?" A man covered with numerous dark tattoos on his face stepped in between the two siblings. "You don''t want to upset Lady Zesshi, do you?"

    Edgar Kukuhu Beaumarchais, the thirteenth seat, nicknamed the Divine Chain, attempted to mediate between the two. Actually, of the quarrel between the fifth seat, Quaiesse, and the ninth, Clementine, he could not have cared less. Like everyone else present, he was so accustomed to their bickering that he found it almost comforting.

    What bothered him was the expression that came close to irritation on the half-elf''s face. As the newest addition to the Theocracy''s special unit, he was also the one among most of all in whom the memory of his "baptism" was most vivid.

    "Don''t worry, Divine Chain. I''m not angry." Antilene tried to reassure those who were, though hard to tell, her comrades. "Should Windstride and One-Man Army continue to cause problems, it will mean that my teachings have proven insufficient. I will gladly see to it that my mistakes are rectified, and give them extra time to devote to our training. Don''t you find that a very good idea?"

    Both Clementine and Quaiesse blanched. Antilene swore she had seen corpses with more vitality than the two.

    Edgar meanwhile, had retreated behind the group. Panicked as well, he squeezed as close as he could to a woman with long blue hair gathered in two braids that touched the floor. Like him, the eleventh seat, Infinite Magic, was shaking like a leaf at the mere glimpse of the centenarian girl.

    "Nono, we will never allow ourselves to steal precious time from the guardian of humanity. We will correct our bad habits ourselves!" The two siblings replied in unison. Finally, they seemed to agree on something.

    And these are supposed to be the heroes of humanity? What a pity. I have seen baby mice with more courage.

    "I see that the first seat is not with you," Antilene noted. In fact, Aeneas was strangely absent. "Did the Cardinals keep him with them longer than expected?"

    "Not only that," she was answered by a man carrying a pair of giant shields with him. Cedran Talos Michael, eighth seat, also known as Myriad Barriers, was a particularly mighty man with a trained physique and sculpted muscles. "The captain had an appointment meeting with a woman chosen by his family, apparently. He begged us to put down his equipment for him."

    Oh, I think he had mentioned that the last time I saw him.

    For those who had awakened the blood of the Gods, various pressures were placed on them to give birth to as many children as quickly as possible.

    Even though Aeneas had not yet reached the age to be considered an adult by the standards of the Slaine Theocracy, which was twenty years old, ordinary rules did not apply to him. All for the sake of humanity!

    In theory, Antilene also bore those same responsibilities. But, both because of her longevity far exceeding normal human beings and the burdensome conditions she had imposed before agreeing to marry, it would probably be a long time before she, too, gave birth to many small offspring. In truth, she doubted that would ever happen.

    Maybe, in the future, a Cardinal with enough courage to try to make me fulfill my duties will take a stand. That would be fun.

    "I see. And tell me, what did the mission you returned from consist of?" A twinge of curiosity began to sparkle in her eyes. Perhaps the account of their latest adventure would brighten her day.

    "Cassandra had located a vampire community in a remote village on the border of Argland and Re-Estize." Saturno Deuxi¨¦me Ensiculus, the second seat, Time Turbulence, responded quickly to the half-elf''s question. The puny body and boyish features concealed a sharp and alert mind.

    The respondent, Cassandra Sibilla Delfica, seventh seat and best diviner of the Black Scriptures, adjusted the bow she wore on her head, before continuing the speech begun by her companion. The glasses she wore gave her a mature and intellectual air.

    "I had a vision of doom a few days ago, and I immediately alerted our superiors." The girl merely replied stonily.

    "On the spot," Quaisse continued, the rings he wore on his fingers shining in the darkness of the corridor with a soft light. "We came upon a handful of vampire spawn led by various groups of vampires. At their head was a vampire lord."

    "Oh," a squeak of surprise came out of the half-elf''s mouth. "The last vampire lord we recorded was more than half a century ago. Was he strong?"

    "Not for the captain," Clementine replied. "He eliminated him in seconds. We got rid of his servants in the meantime." The woman could not hide her sadism, satisfaction seeping through her sick grin. "To continue to torture someone who continues to regenerate is indeed a delightful experience!"

    Antilene disagreed with that macabre thought, but avoided saying anything. Who was she to judge others'' tastes? And as long as Windstride''s abilities remained on the side of humankind, she would not have much to say.

    "Hum, disappointing. But maybe it''s for the best."

    Vampires were tough opponents when faced unprepared. Not only did they have numerous abilities such as instant regeneration, Evileye of Temptation, absorption of life force energy, and creation of lesser vampires thanks to vampiration. But they could also boast great resistance to physical attacks and ice element.

    Nevertheless, silver could prove fatal to them, and it made confrontation much easier. And certainly, the Theocracy had no shortage of magical items to exploit that weakness.

    "It''s strange, though." Commented the extra seat. "Lately it seems that the undead in the region have been popping up with increasing frequency."

    "The Cardinals think there may be a high concentration of undead in the Katze Plains," a woman smoothed her long blond hair. Her voice was incredibly pleasant and filled with sweetness. Listening to her was like savoring a spoonful of chocolate. "I wouldn''t be surprised if we have to go there in the future to do some cleaning."

    "Do you think they might decide to let me go too, Divine Chant?"

    Frost plummeted over the room. None of the Black Scripture heroes uttered a word. They looked at each other, unable to find anything to say.

    "Hehe, just kidding." Her companions looked relieved; a weight was lifted from their hearts.

    "So," she continued, now bored with that discussion. "You are here to lay down the equipment of the Gods, are you not? Be my guest."

    She stepped aside to let the Black Scripture members enter the treasury. Before her companions could approach, however, she was called by a voice.

    "I beg you, Lady Zesshi. Fight with me!" That invocation came from the 10th seat, considered the strongest man ever. Godkin aside, of course. His epithet, Strongest Human, certainly did not shine in originality.

    In his presence, even an imposing man like Cedran looked like just a helpless little boy. His towering stature would not have been out of place among giants, and his muscles were so well trained that they appeared to move with a life of their own.

    "Oh, cut it out, Samson. You know perfectly well that you have no hope against her." Saturno snorted, exasperated by the man''s persistent thirst for battle.

    "I''m aware of that," Samson answered him curtly. "But I have developed a new martial art that I am sure will succeed in shocking her. I ask only for a chance."

    Antilene observed the man. She had to raise her head to look him straight in the eye. For a moment, the breath of those present remained suspended as a suffocating pressure came from the half-elf.

    "Okay," said the girl with heterochromatic eyes. A jovial smile broke out on her face, although, strangely, her self-styled companions seemed intimidated by it. "Put on your guard."

    She still clutched her toy in one hand, but did not put it down. It would only have been a useless gesture.

    Normally, it would have made more sense to go to the training hall for that mock battle, also to avoid soiling those sacred places. But almost everyone present knew it would only be a waste of time.

    "[Earth Shaking]." The mighty ax wielded by the tenth seat glowed a strange brownish color as it came down on the half-elf.

    "Humpf." Antilene did not even dodge the blow. The impact of the weapon on her head merely produced a large rumble, without the girl suffering the slightest damage.

    The additional seat struck the man''s neck, taking the utmost care not to exaggerate her force. It was so fast that none of those present noticed its movement.

    The rumble of the impact propagated with extraordinary speed, breaking the sound barrier. An even more impressive dust cloud was raised than that caused by the ax blow.

    The man cashed the blow. He smiled. And then fell to the ground like a dead body.

    "Well, this time I think it lasted a few fractions of a second longer than usual." Observed Antilene, genuinely amazed by the strength of the Black Scripture member. "Divine Chant, heal him so he can recover."

    The woman began to chant a prayer. A divine light illuminated the stunned man. After a few seconds, Samson began to regain consciousness.

    "Ouch, ouch," he began to creak the muscles in his neck, still groggy. "I really felt that one."

    He struggled to get up, but at the same time happy that he was able to withstand the blow from the guardian of humanity. Well, for longer than usual. Seeing him so smug, even Antilene began to feel infected by his good mood.

    It takes so little to make him happy.

    "Now I''d say you can enter the treasury."

    At her suggestion-or perhaps command would have been a more effective term-the Black Scriptures headed for the treasury room like good, little soldiers. It did not take them long to put those sacred pieces of equipment back in their places, and then they returned to pay their respects.

    When they were gone, Antilene was left alone once again. The toy had remained still in her hands. Except for a little dust, it had not suffered any damage from the commotion earlier.

    You seem to have remained the same today, too. Like me.

    She remained in place. There was not much more to do.

 Chapter 18: Parents and children

    Chapter 18

    Parents and children

    Upper Earth Month, 2nd Day, 20.00

    Antilene sipped from the small cup of coffee. The slightly roasted taste of the drink that caressed her palate gave her vigor, relieving the drowsiness that gripped her.

    Her personal cook had prepared a perfect dinner to be able to cope with the cold of that winter evening. Spelt soup accompanied by fresh fish and a rich portion of vegetables. For dessert, sweet bread was kept company with a small bowl filled with honey.

    She savored each small bite, letting the flavor of the food moisten her lips. The girl ate slowly as she read a collection of poems that Aeneas had brought her.

    Maybe I should read the reports, but nothing interesting has been happening for days. Well, these poems by Donte of Karsanas are not so much better. So pleased with himself.

    After she had finished eating, the half-elf began to clean up all the clutter that had accumulated in the kitchen. When one is endowed with super-human reflexes, a speed that breaks through the common human sense and spatial perception that far exceeds that of any other human being, it should be easy to succeed at mundane chores.

    Yet, the last time I tried to use my abilities to finish quickly it did not go too well.

    The sound of broken dishes and smashed glasses dating back to the last time she had tried to use her super speed to finish quickly still rumbled in her ears.

    I wonder, if I had waitress-type classes would it be different?

    Calmly, the girl began to put everything back in its place. Mundane gestures, repeated hundreds and hundreds of times, were in many cases a more than acceptable pastime to succeed in overcoming despondency.

    When she had finished, with the swiftness of a jaguar, she headed for her private library. Placed on numerous shelves were some of the Theocracy''s most valuable and rare books.

    In addition to a reproduction of the Six Great Gods Gospels, the fundamental religious text of Slaine''s doctrine, there were various collections of the most diverse topics. Not only religious texts, but collections of poetry, short stories, and philosophical and military disquisitions.

    Some tomes could have been considered apocryphal and, for the most fervent followers, even blasphemous. In particular, a collection of legends gathered after the disaster of the Evil Deities was one of the half-elf''s favorite readings.

    The Nine Goddesses, I wonder if they really exist or are just silly superstitions. If the former were true, they could prove to be a great addition to our military might. Indeed, perhaps they might even be able to defeat me. They are deities, after all.

    Some might have found it unbecoming for a girl of her age to continually have a head full of battles and silly superstitions. Even the Cardinals would, probably, have preferred that she hurry up and find a husband so she could churn out many small weapons from her belly. Almost as if she were not a human being but a miniature factory. Always ready to be operational.

    The Nine Goddesses, against whom not even the evil deities could do anything. The dreamer sleeping at the bottom of the ocean, rumored to shape the reality around her. The flying city in the middle of the desert, guarded by invincible guardians. And more. Empires of monsters and creatures beyond imagination lurk in the meanders of this world. Legends and superstitions mingle with numerous realities and traditions about which we still know too little.

    All in all, the region in which her homeland was located was just one of the small dots that characterized the planet. In her little pond, she was the strongest, certainly. Those who could compete with her could be counted on the fingers of her hands, and most of these belonged to an ancestral race now almost extinct.

    But what if someone came along who could defeat me? Someone against whom not even Rufus could do anything? What would become of the Theocracy? Of my cherished land? Of the proof that I existed?

    A rather depressing thought. Many might even have called it defeatist.

    Without the Theocracy, what would my life be like now? Worse? Better? If my mother had not been rescued, against whom would my anger now be directed? Against those I now consider friends and family, superiors and subordinates?

    In another reality, she stood proudly by her father''s side. In the endless sea of possibilities, Silksuntecks burned with blazing flames under the leadership of an army of monsters commanded by her.

    Blasphemy.

    Those thoughts alone were enough to be a threat against all that was sacred in the realm of the Gods.

    In the end, what do I really want? To continue to protect what is dear to me? Or a life of new experiences, away from a routine that is trapping me? If only I had the answer I so long for.

    To become one of the protagonists of those stories she so loved to read, to meet new people, and savor new perspectives. To leave that country so much cherished, but hated with a discomforting passion at the same time.

    Yes. Part of her hated the Theocracy. She would never admit it to anyone, but that was how she felt. How could two emotions so at antipodes coexist in the same person? Antilene did not know, but that tormented her more than anything else in the world.

    There was a chain, invisible, that twisted her neck, cut off her breath, and brought all those silly boyhood dreams to ruin. The duty that flowed from her position, from her history, clashed with her aspirations, reducing the latter to an empty desire.

    "You still have a task to complete." Faine''s voice was calm and quiet, almost devoid of any emotion. But it echoed in Antilene''s head with the force of a thousand hurricanes.

    The half-elf''s palms were white, pale, and devoid of any sign of violence. But once upon a time, blood covered them so much that the color of her complexion resembled that of a granulated red.

    "Here," how long had her mother been dead? How much longer would her ghost be at her side? "This is a sword. From today I will teach you how to wield it."

    How old was she then? Twenty? Thirty?

    "It hurts mom. It hurts so much." Her childish voice, broken with weeping and pain, was begging for mercy.

    "It''s for your sake!"

    Or for yours, mother? Was I your daughter, or your weapon? Why don''t you answer me? Oh, right. You can''t now.

    How could Faine be sure that her daughter would demonstrate those fighting skills she so yearned for? Of course, time had proven her right. Sure, Antilene had shown more talent than others. In all the history of the Theocracy, the half-elf had been the one most blessed by the blood of the Gods.

    But it was a judgment in retrospect. At the time, who could have imagined it? Who could have thought that reducing on the verge of death, again and again and again, a little girl would yield those results?

    Had it been a coincidence? Or a game of fate?

    "Remember, Antilene. Mother will love you forever."

    Was it really love that she had? How could something so abstract be measured? A matter-of-fact phrase to mask what Faine really felt.

    "I''m doing this for your sake. Someday you will thank me."

    Maybe I will, mother. I wish someday I could wake up from my sleep and be able to shout to the four winds ''My mother loved me. She loved me like no one else.''

    Weapons as childhood companions and deep wounds as sweet mementos of infancy. These, were her legacy. These, were her most precious memories.

    "One day mankind will reach its paradise. My child, your task is to guide them to a new future. Only then, can we rest in peace. Our watch will end. The tree of wisdom will satiate us with its fruit of a thousand flavors. And we descendants of the Gods will be free at last."

    "Free from what, mother?" The split lip, the beatings that adorned her body like a precious dress, the blood that gushed from her forehead as a spring of pure water flows from the mountain''s jaws.

    Yet, that day when Faine had devoted more than a few brief moments to her instruction had been one of the most cherished moments in the half-elf''s life. It was a bittersweet fruit that had grown within her heart, but that was, with time, beginning to wither.

    "From our servitude." Her eyes were so devoid of emotions. Their lifeless glow had stuck in Antilene''s mind. Although decades had passed, that dull, dark color like a starless night recapitulated in the nightmares of the guardian of humanity.

    At one time, she saw in that dimness a monster lurking, ready to devour her at any moment. In the child''s eyes, it was waiting for nothing more than a small imperfection, a small mistake to unleash its fury.

    "What does it mean to be a slave, Mother?" She had asked so foolishly. The lost little girl had remained the same even after ages had passed.

    "It means not having control over one''s life, over one''s actions. Each of us is a slave, because everything we carry out is predetermined by a design we are not given to know. We call faith that hope that does not cause us to capitulate in despair. If we lose it, we can only be discouraged to realize that we are only weak and pathetic beings whose fate may be decided by the whim of beings we do not understand."

    "I don''t get it, mommy." And even now, she could not claim to have fully understood her mother''s speeches.

    "Someday, I hope, you will understand," she had wielded her weapon again. The beast that lurked in her eyes seemed to be getting closer and closer. "And now, let''s resume with training."

    That time, the training was even harder than usual. The violence of her parent''s blows made Antilene come close to death more than once.

    If I could see you again today, what would I think of you, Faine? Would I condemn you, for being so horrible to me? Would I pity you, because I can understand your pain?

    A parent should love their child, regardless of the circumstances under which he was born. This should have been the reality of things.

    But what we think is right and just clashes with the harshness of real life. Maybe my mother hated me. Or maybe she loved me. Or maybe her feelings were too complex to be encapsulated in single words.

    Human beings, no, all creatures with reason were striving to match the endless images of the people they interacted with. But, and this was the tragedy of impersonal relationships, only different fractions of a whole could be grasped. And, in trying to fit all these many pieces together, only something approaching reality could be reconstructed.

    Faine had been a horrible mother, a victim of violence, captain of the Black Scriptures, and hero of humanity. Each of these definitions described her, but they alone were not enough. Trying to reduce her only to her hatred of the king or her duty to the Theocracy was not enough.

    I will respect your wish, mother. It will be the last gift I can give you. Perhaps the only one I may have given you. I will kill my father. And then I will gain what you have never been able to achieve. I will prove that I am superior to you.

    Upper Earth Month, 7th day, 13.00

    The power of the sun in the palm of my hands.

    The early afternoon light brought its blessing to Evasha''s forest. In that sea of trees, the rays penetrated with gentle fragility, illuminating the steep forest paths with warm light.

    Decem let that light illuminate his skin. The beauty of nature was but one of the countless ornaments to his greatness.

    He smoothed his beautiful hair, the feeling of its silkiness brought joy to his fingers. Before his splendid eyes, whose luster would have put even the most precious of gems to shame, a handful of boys and girls of the most diverse ages waited, shrouded in terror, for his orders.

    Their looks filled with dread caused a trickle of disgust in the king. If only vomiting had not been such a rabble-rousing action, he would not have hesitated to regurgitate his disdain. Maybe then they would finally understand how immense his contempt and disappointment for them was.

    Father, how fortunate you were to receive from the hands of fate such a wonderful gift as me. I can do nothing but show, once again, all my gratitude for the love you have given me.

    He sighed. The memories of his late parent were always a mixture of pride and sadness that blended like a mixture of watercolors decorating the canvas of his soul.

    "You!" He turned to one of the members of his progeny. The submissive tone of the indicated boy''s gait was so pathetic that he could be compared to a stupid beast. Certainly not a bearer of the greatness that should have distinguished their lineage. "Tell your brothers and sisters that we have now arrived. The Dragon''s Jaws are in sight."

    "Certainly, father." Father. That word sounded so wrong when spoken by that rotten apple.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The Dragon''s Jaws. One of the most dangerous territories within the forest of Evasha. Dangerous, of course, not for a chosen one like Decem.

    After this final task, each piece will be put in its place. Oh, just a little more and the fun will begin. The coveted success is only a few meters away from me.

    The joy of finally being able to imagine his dream come true had to clash with the immense disappointment of the daunting reality given by the sight of his children.

    Lacking all grace and regality, they moved like a shapeless mass devoid of discipline. The word order seemed unknown to their march. Their faces, marked by resignation and sadness, were an insult to his magnificence.

    They were oblivious to the good fortune they had been granted. Decem found himself thinking, once again, of his late father. Surely, he could never have tolerated that urge for disobedience that shone through their every look and gesture.

    But the elf king knew that he was endowed with a lethal flaw. His generosity and patience. If only he could have gotten rid of them, he would have achieved the perfection he so yearned for. But foolish sentimentality is hard to let go of.

    No matter how hard I try, I cannot reach your heights, Father. I hope that from where you look at me you can forgive this imperfect son of yours. Believe me, I would gladly free myself from these chains of benevolence that prevent me from achieving the results to which I so aspire. To which we aspired together.

    "Father," the boy he had addressed earlier had dared to divert him from his thoughts. The color of his eyes was the same as his, but without the radiance that characterized true royalty. "We are not alone."

    Indeed, strange creatures had begun to surround them. Their shape was similar to that of reptiles, but they were equipped with sharp claws and small wings growing on their backs. Their length did not exceed three meters, and the craggy, brownish scales blended naturally into their surroundings.

    "Earth drakes," Decem recognized them. Distantly related to the more fearsome dragons, those beasts were endowed with various out-of-the-ordinary fighting skills. They were not as good at flying as other dragons, but they could dig into the ground and sense enemies standing on the earth with ease, or even shake the ground once a day. "This will be a perfect test for you children."

    "Father, what do you mean?" His son asked him with a note of fear. The sweat that pivoted on his forehead was not an auspicious sign in the king''s eyes.

    "It''s simple," he tried to remain calm. It was the duty of a good parent to mentor his offspring. Even if their stupidity was a constant affront to his existence. "I do not need you to reach my goal. Take this as a test. Those who can survive can be admitted into the ranks of my new army. The others... Well, we won''t have lost anything important. Don''t you think so?"

    Whatever his name was-for Decem it did not matter. Only the strong deserved to remain engraved in his memory- gave him a look full of despondency.

    For a moment, his son seemed about to say something. But he stopped instantly as he became aware of the sternness emanating from his father''s face.

    "I have understood," he had finally accepted his role. Perhaps he was not as much of a failure as the king thought. "We won''t let you down, father."

    "It would be difficult to fail to meet even my already very low expectations," Decem merely replied. He was tired, so tired. Being surrounded constantly by incompetents was a titanic effort even for someone as great as he was. "Proceed. When I return, I don''t want to find a single one of these horrid creatures."

    His children began to give battle. A few of them, those he had judged most promising, had received some of his treasures. Nothing too valuable, of course. But still, he could not have allowed them to fall into undeserving hands.

    The earth drakes lashed out at his children. Some of them reacted swiftly, managing to repel the assault. A few magical arrows departed from enchanted bows, penetrating the enemies'' clad carapace. But it was not enough, as their resistance was far greater than what little damage the young elves could inflict.

    The confrontation then passed to the physical plane. A couple of the members of that ill-matched family managed to disentangle themselves gracefully from the beasts'' attacks, counterattacking at the right moment with the short swords they carried.

    Others, however, could do nothing and found themselves at the mercy of the monsters. The youngest, especially, were almost utterly unable to resist. Within seconds, their blood stained the ground as limbs and pieces of skin quickly fell away from their owners.

    The older siblings tried to stand as shields, arousing the wrath of the elf ruler.

    "Don''t you understand that this way you are not giving them a chance to grow? Your selfishness is nothing but an obstacle to achieving the high peaks to which you should aspire." But it seemed that his words could not reach them.

    Patience. If they believe that nurturing will lead to something concrete, I will let them continue. Only the strongest survive. It will be a good lesson for those who manage to not die.

    As the crush of battle began to spread to the surrounding area, Decem resumed his march. A small group of earth drakes stood between him and his path.

    The creatures, for a moment that seemed endless, appeared on the verge of attacking him. Sharp teeth in plain sight, ready to sink into flesh. But as the king''s gaze turned to them, their ferocity began to fade.

    In its place, another feeling began to manifest. A sound similar to the cry of a frightened child was produced by those monstrous mouths.

    At the passing of the rightful ruler of the world, heir to those who most could claim legitimacy on the throne that dominated every known land and sea, those creatures understood their place within the hierarchical scale.

    He, Decem, was the king. All others, the subjects. The sooner all other living beings understood their place, as those foolish and miserable little beings now did, the sooner the world would finally know peace under his enlightened leadership.

    Yes, because once he achieved his goal, conflicts would finally disappear. As his father had done before him, he would create a new utopia on earth. In which only one race, his own, would lead all lower ones to a new paradise.

    That was the task of the few chosen. A task he had accepted with the utmost self-sacrifice. He envied all those foolish mortals. A God like him leading them was the greatest gift they could have received.

    Father, I am so close to fulfilling your vision. My fingers brush against that dream. I am almost there. Just a little further and you will see your wish come true. A world of peace, with our people at the summit. Just a little more ...just a little more.

    An icy scornful grin adorned his face as his gait grew faster and faster. He popped into a clearing, whose vegetation was so dense that not even the most impetuous of the sun''s rays entered.

    In the center of that space filled with greenery stood a small stone altar, on the surface of which were carved some words whose meaning was lost to time.

    Decem approached the small construction and, after resting his hand on its top, shouted at the top of his lungs. "DECEM HOUGAN, RULER OF THE ELVEN KINGDOM OF EVASHA, CALL BEFORE HIM ASHUAK FRAHR SSISSTH, ALSO KNOWN AS THE JUDGE OF THE FOREST."

    His voice exploded like a rumble of thunder in the silence of the place, breaking the monotony of the peace that had reigned unchallenged until that moment. Thousands of birds, frightened by that display of power, fled away, abandoning the branches of the trees where they had established their abode.

    Decem waited. He did not have to wait long before the master arrived to give him his warm welcome.

    "How dare you enter this place, mortal? Do you not value your life?" Suddenly, a voice. Firm and powerful as a mountain, the tone was shaded by an ancient, mystical feeling. The history of the world was beginning to unfold from those words spoken so decisively.

    Strange as it may have seemed, for a moment the elf king had the impression that the sounds coming out of the being''s mouth did not perfectly match those heard by his royal ears. That strange feeling soon disappeared, replaced by the wonderment aroused by the one who had just proffered the speech.

    But who was his interlocutor? Vaguely resembling the earth drakes from just before, he was distinguished from them by his considerable bulk and graceful bearing.

    Its size, which reached tens of meters, stood proudly within the clearing. It was covered with scales, all glistening with various shades of green, from the dark hue of emeralds to the shiny shade of dew-soaked grass. That vast assemblage of colors created an optical illusion of movement on the body of what was, for all intents and purposes, a dragon of the best kind.

    "As I said, my name is Decem," a pair of blank, glowing eyes continued to stare at him. Those glowing orbs on the ancient guardian''s face concealed within them an infernal fury that asked nothing more than to be let loose. But to those who controlled the fate of the world, it was nothing more than the light play of a frightened fool. "From today, I will be your new master."

    Can a dragon externalize emotions that are usually attributed to inferior beings like humans? Ashukar''s jaw stretched wide, his razor-sharp jaws glittered like the finest silver, while his eyebrows twitched in a stunned expression.

    "Ahahahahahahahahah," he looked as if he was about to start crying, such was the hilarity of the situation from his point of view. "It''s been a long time since I''ve heard such a funny statement. I must thank you, king of the elves, for bringing amusement to this gray day."

    "I am glad you found this entertaining. But I''m afraid it''s not a joke. No. Believe me, Emerald Dragon Lord, when I tell you that I have never been more serious in my life."

    "Do you realize what you are asserting?" Inquired the dragon. His joviality of earlier was beginning to be replaced by a strange feeling. One that went back centuries and centuries. "I abhor violence. But don''t think I''m not willing to set aside my beliefs if it comes to teaching an impertinent young man a lesson."

    "Ehehehe," this time it was the elf ruler who laughed. But his was not a laugh filled with life and hope like Ashukar''s. It was diabolical, hellish, and edged with an aftertaste of blood and violence. "I would be so curious to see you try. But don''t be scared. If you should not be willing to come along with me nicely, I have several alternatives available. Tell me, those you protect are located nearby, are they not? I could use them for my own projects. Although I would much prefer the complete specimen."

    "You..." The forest judge, also considered the strongest of Evasha''s 15 lords, began, metaphorically, to spit flames. His anger seemed on the verge of exploding as his figure overshadowed Decem more and more. "Who gave you this information?"

    "A king never reveals his secrets. So, have you decided to put yourself at my service? Don''t force me to use more persuasive methods. It is such a waste of time," a grimace resembling the impious smile of the most perverse of fiends appeared on the man''s face. "And time, as you well know, is more valuable than any precious material."

    "Who are you? You are no ordinary elf, that''s for sure." For the first time since the conversation began, the Emerald Dragon Lord began to feel uncomfortable. "Not since the days of the Evil Deities have I sensed such malevolence. Are you one of the survivors of those bearers of ruin?"

    "I have nothing to do with those foolish beings. Deities, what a stupid joke. In my comparison, they were nothing but trash. Unlike them, my conquest will not end in defeat."

    The king''s scornful reply cut through Ashukar''s last remaining hesitation like a blade cutting through paper. "I cannot allow such perfidy to continue to defile the world!"

    Decem sighed. The Emerald Dragon Lord was about to begin his offensive.

    Once again, diplomacy proved futile. When will these fools learn their place in the order of things? I would do without violence, but some know only this language, unfortunately.

    "Behe..."

    He began his invocation. The earth shook, and the ground began to rip into infinite fragments as the dragon was about to deliver its attack.

    Starting from nostrils covered with emerald scales, a trumpet of unheard-of power was emitted as a hell-breath from the giant lizard''s mouth.

    A gust of wind, capable of distorting the air and melting space into infinite folds, broke down the sound barrier, heading toward the elf ruler.

    "... Moth!"

    An unspeakable horror began to take shape. The very avatar of the fury of the pristine earth stood in defense of its master. The impact of the sonic boom with its armor covered with countless precious minerals caused a gigantic explosion that spread over the beast''s body.

    The grotesque creature had not suffered even the slightest scratch. It began to move, its tiny legs jerking with unexpected speed for its size.

    "What is that... that thing?" Ashukar tried to keep his cool, preparing to launch another attack.

    "Your bane."

    Behemoth''s gigantic hands, which in contrast to his lower body gave him an even more absurd appearance, grabbed the neck of the forest judge before he could react.

    "Now, kneel!"

    Ashukar was made to sprawl on the ground. His breathing became so short that even Decem was able to notice the terror he was beginning to feel.

    The spikes of earth that sprouted from his invocation made contact with the dragon''s scale-covered skin, starting, against all logic, to break them apart. Rivulets of blood began to gush from the lord''s skin, while his wails of pain brought joy to the king''s ears.

    Sweeter than any nectar, the fear and despair his opponents felt when they realized what an insurmountable wall they had defied was the favorite meal of the heir of the Greed King.

    "Do you yield?"

    The Emerald Dragon Lord looked at him with a stare filled with contempt. That hatred he showed was so pathetic. "Never!" A glow sprang from his eyes as Decem felt a strange light pervade him.

    The elf king was no longer inside the Dragon''s Jaws, but in a royal palace. One he knew all too well. His own.

    Where am I? This place...I recognize it. How did I get back here?

    "Son, you have returned."

    That voice so familiar, that love so overwhelming. He could make no mistake. Decem hesitated to turn around, afraid to realize it was just a dream. An illusion.

    "Father!"

    Seeing his beloved parent again, he could not hold back tears of emotion. The ruthless ruler of the elves was no more. In his place, a child who missed his father too much had taken his place.

    "Father, you are alive!"

    "Of course, son. Did you think something bad happened to me?"

    "How happy I am to see you again. Don''t abandon me anymore, please!" They embraced, the joy too much to contain.

    "Why should I ever leave you, Decem?" Decem. When his parent spoke his name, the elf could finally feel alive. The aspirations of conquest lost their meaning, for his heart was finally fulfilled.

    "You... you do not remember?"

    "How could I ever abandon my beloved son?"

    "But...but you did. You went away, leaving me alone. And you never came back." The last memory the elf king had of him began to settle back into his mind.

    That proud back leaving his son behind, never to return.

    Right. None of this is real. What a fool.

    He regained control of himself. That fictitious reality was gone. His body had returned to its original form.

    "How...how did you get free?" Ashukar, still under Behemoth''s yoke, was incredulous. "You should have remained a few more hours under the effect of my illusion."

    "Psionic attack. Interesting. Unfortunately for you, I am not trash like your previous opponents!" The king''s anger was struggling not to overflow from his entire being. What an affront he had suffered! He should have executed that overgrown lizard instantly.

    But he desisted. He still had plans for him.

    "Behemoth, stronger."

    The Emerald Dragon Lord was pushed even lower. His whole body was now touching the ground.

    "Arghhhhh!"

    His cries of pain, coupled with seeing him in such a pitiful state, brought an ounce of relief to Decem''s soul. Although he would have gladly savored even more of that delicious moment -maybe by gradually tearing off those scales that covered the dragon''s body, forcibly pulling away those wings he seemed to be so proud of, or even gouging all his teeth out of his mouth one by one- he had wasted far too much time.

    "Last chance. I will count to three. If you haven''t given up by then, say goodbye to your life. And your children''s. One... Two..."

    "All right, all right." He was finally convinced. Couldn''t he have shown that discernment from the beginning? "Just don''t hurt the little ones. Please, don''t. They are the last emerald dragons left on this part of the continent."

    To feel such apprehension for useless creatures. Pathetic. But that weakness could have been used to his advantage.

    "If you cooperate, I promise no harm will come to them. Are you ready to listen to me now?"

    "Yes..." Good, the dragon finally understood who was the master and who was the servant.

    "Then pay attention, for I will not repeat it a second time. Your first task is simple. Do you know where Crescent Lake is?"

    The Emerald Dragon Lord nodded his head, the rest of his body still immobilized by Behemoth, to imply that he knew the answer.

    "Splendid. More or less a hundred kilometers from there is a large wooden building, made entirely by me. From above it is impossible not to recognize it. Go there, and you will find others like you waiting for my instructions. I will get in touch as soon as possible. All clear?"

    "... Crystal clear." Was that contempt he sensed? It didn''t matter. If everything had followed his design, for that insolent reptile there would not be much longer to live.

    "Perfect. And, of course, don''t try to escape. Otherwise..." He did not need to finish the sentence. They both knew what was at stake.

    "Now, if you please, I''ll return to my children. You are not the only one who has to think about the future of his race."

    The king recalled his trusty shield to himself, and then let himself be carried back to the place where he had left his progeny. He did not turn around, for he knew that the Emerald Dragon Lord would not dare raise his head, not as long as Decem remained there at least.

    To his surprise, as many as three members of his original group had survived. The one he had pinned as the momentary group leader, unfortunately, had failed to make it. His body, barely recognizable, lay lifeless on the banks of the path.

    A pity, but better that he had proved his meager worth in such an insignificant matter as that.

    As soon as they noticed him, those who had remained began to approach their parent. One girl, who had recently entered her teens, addressed him.

    "Father, I''m sorry to say that only we are left. Everyone else is dead." Her gaze was turned downward, probably because of the shame she felt at having failed him.

    "Perfect," that had been, all in all, a fruitful day. He could lower his expectations once in a while. A ruler''s job was also to recognize the merits, however meager, of his subjects. "What is your name?"

    "R-Ruri."

    "You and your brothers gather the remaining equipment. After that, we will return to the capital at once."

    "Yes, father." Decem noticed that some tears were streaming down her face. Was it so much despair that she had failed to meet his expectations fully? Well, it didn''t matter.

    The king''s mind was focused on a single point, miles away. A place where some detestable ants had gathered in recent years, thinking they could challenge his reign.

    But all this is coming to an end. My daughter, your father is coming for you.

 Chapter 19: Siege

    Chapter 19

    Siege

    Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 17.00

    A sharp noise penetrated Gazef''s ears. A large boulder, the weight of which was probably too great to be calculated by a lackluster intellect as his, struck the walls of Gelone''s fortress.

    Although the fortifications, enhanced with some third-tier spells, managed to withstand the impact, a violent tremor propagated through the walls, momentarily knocking some of the sentries posted off balance.

    ''This has been going on for days now. Soon, morale will reach rock-bottom.''

    If the soldiers in his unit continued to maintain some control, the same could not be said for much of the militia employed by the Draconic Kingdom.

    But Gazef did not feel like condemning them. It was now a week into the siege, and their fighting spirit was beginning to thin. Although the actual assault had yet to be launched, the constant blows from the siege machines were relentless. Sooner or later, they would be able to break through their defenses, and the battle would ignite.

    "Look at those deviltries! We should attack now and get rid of them before they cause major damage." Cerabrate was on the verge of bursting. Pointing to some trebuchets clearly visible from their elevated position, the Holy Knight suggested lightning-quick action to avert the danger.

    It would have been a good plan, were it not for ...

    "It would be suicide. Look at those trenches," Slaine''s captain had drawn attention to some rudimentary pits, placed a few kilometers from the fortress, right between the citadel and the siege machines. "If we were to charge, we would find ourselves mired in who knows how many traps, at the mercy of the demihumans army. We will be wiped out in minutes."

    "Tsk," the Crystal Tear leader gritted his teeth in obvious frustration. "What do you propose to do, then? Let them keep bombing us until they kill us all?"

    "Keep a cool head," Gazef urged him. "So far, the projectiles they are throwing at us have had little effect. It''s just a tactic to intimidate our troops."

    The wobblers the Beastmen were operating might have looked threatening at first glance. But there were several problems that the enemy army had not taken into account.

    "To the best of our scouts'' knowledge, after using Magic Eye, the number of their siege machines is not very high, on the contrary. They probably didn''t have time to build more, worried about starting the siege as soon as possible," the former mercenary began to explain. "When I was part of venture companies, I saw my fair share of sieges. The demi-humans can rely on physical capabilities superior to us, it is true. But it seems that, at least as far as our enemies are concerned, their scientific and mathematical knowledge, necessary to aim shots accurately, is in short supply."

    Indeed, of the shots fired very few had come close to the target. Most of them had flown over their heads, only to end up beyond the fortress, or had ended up traveling only a few meters, not even coming close to grazing the fortifications.

    Obviously, there had been some damage inflicted. But so far nothing too serious. Although not for long, they could still have held out. Conversely, if they became impatient, they would have been mowed down very easily.

    "I suppose in our misfortune, there lies a modicum of luck," pondered Cerabrate, smoothing his unkempt beard. "I have heard that beyond the nation of Argland lie numerous non-human nations with a high level of technology."

    "Yeah," Gazef found himself agreeing. "I''m sure there are magics that can help adjust the trajectory of the wobbles. The fact that our opponents do not seem to know them is a small miracle. Nevertheless..."

    "What''s bothering you?" asked Cerabrate, noting his frowning expression.

    "The empire''s reinforcements have yet to arrive. With their cavalry, we could have launched a cross-attack, maybe even burned their supply stores."

    "Lilianne still hasn''t told you?"

    "Told me what?"

    "The reinforcements were intercepted," the Holy Knight explained. "It seems that this is not the only demi-human army laying siege to some fortified cities. We only heard the news a few hours ago."

    "You mean that this massive army, which we estimated to reach thirty thousand, is not the only one attacking the Draconic Kingdom?" The situation was much more critical than they could have ever hoped for. And the number of men they could count on was absolutely insufficient.

    "The queen also requested the help of some workers. Under the leadership of Blazing Crimson, they are trying to hold off one of the hordes heading right for us."

    If the adventurers were not the shining example of loyalty, the workers represented an even more unreliable extreme. The queen, it was clear, was left with very few options. Gazef dared not even imagine what condition the royal finances were in.

    "We may have to withdraw. Reorganize with the rest of the army and mount a defense toward the capital."

    "No," Slaine''s captain was enveloped in a feeling of despondency. The ways out of that endless tunnel were getting thinner and thinner. "If we tried to escape, we would not only give way to our enemies. But we will also give them an important strategic position. Remember what General Barca told us. If Gelone''s fortress were to fall, at least a third of the Draconic Kingdom territory would end up in the hands of these Beastmen."

    Cerabrate unsheathed the trusty shining sword. If the weapon could have uttered a word, it would probably have invoked a blood demand in order to feel satisfied.

    "Then we shall mount a defense worthy of being immortalized in the works of the bards! We will achieve eternal life with our deeds and the queen... What the hell was that!?"

    Another shot. One of the side walls had almost been hit squarely, but the bullet had stopped a few meters from it, crashing to the ground.

    "Looks like they''re adjusting their aim. Or maybe they''re just lucky."

    "Bah! I''m going to see how my companions and other adventurers are doing. What are you doing, Gazef?"

    The man did not hesitate for a moment before giving his answer. "I''m coming, too. I want to check that Iovino and my troops are ready. An attack could come at any moment."

    The former mercenary returned inside the citadel. The various guards and militia, by now the only inhabitants left inside, were trying to muscle each other out, aware of the impending battle. A torrent of men whose flow could find no clear direction moved through the streets of the citadel.

    The worry, seeping through the air like a ruthless toxin whose poison gave little chance of escape, was counterbalanced by a faint awareness that they were the last line of defense against a merciless fate.

    In other situations, it would have been fascinating to observe how everyone tried to empower themselves in their own way.

    Sorcerers and adventurers endlessly checked and rechecked their equipment, their potions, their trusty weapons, companions of countless feats. Maintaining control over what was at hand was a relief to souls in tumult.

    Some bards strummed old and familiar songs of dragons and knights. The warmth of those old stories was like the cozy fire of a fireplace after a cold winter day.

    Others displayed new creations, hoping they would stand the test of time, while some curious people listened raptly to those words and notes that seemed to lift a weight from their hearts.

    What cannot be said and what cannot be kept silent, music expresses.

    A group of clerics preached the word of the Gods, their voices resounding with the intensity of cathedral bells. In that mournful air, the tolling of their exclamations brought a faint light into mind-numbing darkness.

    "Fear not, for the Gods protect us!"

    "The righteous will be rewarded in heaven!"

    "The sacred mission entrusted to you proves that you are the chosen ones!"

    "Humanity bends, but does not break!"

    Everyone in that place had a reason for which to put their life on the line. A loved one, a sense of duty that defied all logic, or simply a hunger for wealth and notoriety.

    Gazef observed the emblem of the fire goddess embroidered on his armor.

    ''What am I fighting for? Unlike them, I have no friends and family I want to keep safe. Nor a nation I love and want to protect. I thought the Theocracy and this faith could give me the answers I was seeking but...''

    As he listened to those fervent sermons, he could not help but reflect on his past. Strange. It seemed like the life of another man.

    ''... I am still empty.''

    Foolishly, he had thought that the 6 Gods might bring relief to his spirit, tried by an endless quest that had never ended. But the only thing he could carry within him was blood. The blood of all those he had killed.

    He was not a hero. He was an executioner.

    "Sir Stronoff," a voice he now knew all too well distracted him from his thoughts. "Something seems to be troubling you. Can I be of any help?"

    Wrapped in a robe as black as night, a man whose every single step stood for safety. He carried a book of rosaries with him, whose pages were flipped with speed by his fingers as steady as steel.

    "Captain Luin," Gazef never expected that small offer of help. Relations with the Sunlight Scripture captain up to that point had been cordial, but mostly cold and lacking in true respect. "I was just concerned about the progress of the battle."

    "I see. In truth, I feel the same right now." Usually, his interlocutor''s tone exuded unparalleled arrogance. But this time it seemed to be devoid of all malice and superiority. Could it be that he, too, was in turmoil over the siege? "But we have nothing to fear. The Gods guide our hands, just as a loving parent guides his child as he takes his first steps."

    "I wish I had your faith, captain," Gazef replied, realizing soon after that to the ears of such a devout man those words would have sounded like profanity.

    But Nigun did not comment on that lack of faith; on the contrary. In an understanding, almost fatherly kind of voice, he simply stated. "It is not only by faith that battles are won, that you should know better than me. Don''t be afraid! Doubt is a fundamental part of achieving wisdom."

    "I confess that I sometimes wonder if there are other ways besides war to conduct relations with nonhumans."

    "In a perfect world, this would be possible." The Sunlight Scripture captain closed his eyes, in complete concentration. "But, unfortunately, the world we live in does not allow us to indulge in such reveries. Humans are weak; there is no other way to describe us. Of all the races that populate this world, ours is one of the most disadvantaged. Our physiques are frail, we have not been blessed with special abilities, except in very rare cases, and we age quickly, too quickly."

    "Is that why you fight?" Gazef asked, with a note of curiosity. "To protect the powerless? All this blood, all these struggles that never seem to end. How long has this crusade been going on? In some cases, like the invasion that hit this kingdom, it is justified by the logic of preservation. But is this true of all relations with all other races? Will we fight eternally as long as we or they remain?"

    "Sir Stronoff," Nigun''s black eyes sparkled with a ferocity and passion that would have put even the bravest heart in awe. "Each of us is called upon to make a choice. If I had to exterminate countless villages of demi-humans or other creatures to save the life of an old man on his deathbed, rest assured that I would let the blood and tears of those creatures bathe my entire body. These are the beliefs of the Slaine Theocracy. Everything is for humanity. We sacrifice ourselves, to ensure that a better tomorrow can welcome our loved ones!"

    That self-sacrifice, that unwavering faith in one''s mission, as robust as the roots of an age-old tree that even the strongest of cataclysms cannot bend. That was the goal for which, throughout a lifetime of straggling and constant searching, Gazef yearned.

    "I am sorry if my skepticism causes you disgust. To a man of faith like you, my words border on blasphemy, I presume."

    "Don''t worry about that," Nigun tried to hearten him. "A skeptic joining a believer is something as simple as the law of complementary colors. What we miss attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. The toad always fixes his eyes on the sky; why? To see the bird fly."

    "And do you think one day I will be able to fly, too?" Gazef asked, the doubt in his heart not yet withered.

    "Some thoughts are like prayers. There are times when, whatever the position of the body, the soul is on its knees. Your soul, Sir Stronoff, is now in supplication. And as a follower of the Six Great Gods, I can do nothing but try to bring you comfort."

    Nigun pulled out an old rosary, worn by time and those calloused hands that had evidently flipped through its beads more than once. "Knowing that I fulfill the will of someone above me gives me strength. Some, or perhaps it would be better to say many, outside the Theocracy cannot understand our sacrifice. But I can only feel compassion for them. It is not for everyone to be fortunate enough to be part of a project much bigger than themselves."

    The sun was setting, and the night was beginning to begin its reign. A member of Sunlight Scripture approached the duet. He was so quiet that even Gazef did not notice his presence.

    "Captain," he said, addressing Nigun. "Everything is ready. Soon the assault of the Beastmen will begin."

    "They want to attack at night, then?" Thanks to their developed senses, the demi-humans enjoyed a considerable advantage during the dark. "Sir Stronoff, I must go now. I trust our talk has brought a modicum of relief."

    "It has been very informative," replied the Slaine warrior. "Are you sure, then, that the assault will start tonight?"

    "Yes, their siege towers are now ready. In a few hours, our walls will be under attack."

    "I see," Gazef merely replied. "Much sooner than I expected, I must admit."

    "Your men are ready, aren''t they?" Nigun had returned to his usual unyielding manner. It was amazing how his body seemed more solid than the fort''s towers themselves. "This will be our only chance."

    "Certainly. You have nothing to fear."

    "Perfect. I''ll go make the final arrangements. I trust you will do the same."

    And having said this, quick as a cheetah, the Sunlight Scripture captain disappeared into the crowd like a whisper in the wind.

    The former mercenary also wasted no time, trying to rejoin his unit as soon as possible.

    The fatal hour was about to begin.

    Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 22.00

    ''What am I doing here?''

    Lilianne shot another arrow, hitting the throat of a ferocious feline-looking man-beast.

    "Lilianne, are you all right?" Imilcone asked her. His breath was getting heavy by now, and from the way he could barely stand, it was evident that his energy was failing him.

    "Yes, but be careful. They don''t seem to be diminishing one bit."

    The assault had begun not even an hour ago, but it was evident that the Beastmen had an overwhelming advantage. The disparity in numbers was simply too much.

    "[Fire-Arrow]" Crystal Tear''s arcane caster cast his spell. His flaming projectile struck straight at a styx preparing to strike from behind his teammate. The demi-human''s deer antlers immediately caught fire as he began to struggle in pain.

    "I am in your debt," Lilianne thanked him sincerely. Drops of sweat, evidence of her fatigue, pivoted her forehead. "I do not see Cerabrate, where has he gone?"

    "Do you not see him? He is the one fighting like a demon amid that encirclement."

    The walls still held up to the onslaught, mostly thanks to the Theocracy''s paladin units. The Draconic Kingdom militia and adventurers, on the other hand, had focused on the enemies who had managed to reach the inner area of the fort.

    Crystal Tear was located in the central part, the one with the largest number of Beastmen. The battle had been raging for minutes now, and fatigue was beginning to set in. Many groups from the lower ranks of the guild had littered the streets of the citadel with their corpses.

    The numbers in the enemy ranks, on the other hand, were showing no signs of diminishing.

    Cerabrate and members of Wings of the Basilisk, a group of adventurers of mithril rank, were virtually surrounded on all sides by a large group of horuner and armat.

    As Imilcone had reported, the Holy Knight was fighting like a demoniac. Blood decorated his armor, once gleaming as the most precious gold, like a medal of valor.

    A lightning slash, which could have been compared to a thunderbolt in the sky, sliced cleanly through two of the horuner''s hooves. Their insides once again painted the figure of the Holy Kingdom champion with a scarlet color.

    "Let''s go too!" Lilianne urged her companion to take part in the battle.

    She and Imilcone continued to give support to their leader, while the Beastmen focused their attention on the latter. Instinctively, they realized that he was the most dangerous of all the humans there. Or perhaps, they had simply counted the number of corpses looming at his feet.

    Cerabrate kept moving like a madman. With his two companions covering his back, he could give vent to all his impetus. Fast as a thunderbolt, he continued to slash and break the demi-human guard. The air itself seemed to be cut by his sword, which was coated with a dazzling light.

    They continued like this for several minutes. The Holy Knight seemed to know no fatigue, thanks in part to the magical items he was equipped with, which relieved his exhaustion. By now, the woman had lost count of how many of those horrible creatures she had felled. But their numbers, strangely enough, seemed to be increasing, not diminishing.

    Theirs, on the other hand, were growing fainter and fainter. Crystal Tear continued to resist, and so did Wings of the Basilisk and Roar of the Manticore. However, they were the exception, not the rule.

    Countless bodies of adventurers of all ranks mingled with the corpses of Beastmen. United together, in that unclean hovel it was almost as if there were no differences between the races. Left to their own devices, in no time the differences that had sparked that battle would disappear and nothing more would remain but a distant memory of a dastardly conflict.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ''We are adventurers, we should not be participating in a war.''

    She fired another arrow. And another killing was added to her list. If only it had made a difference.

    She was tired, too tired. Why had she started all this? For the glory? The money? Altruism? Sense of duty? Revenge? What was the right answer?

    Now everything seemed devoid of any meaning.

    Blood began to drip from her face. An enemy slinger must have managed to hit her full in the forehead. Yet she felt no pain. Only weariness.

    "Don''t get distracted, Lilianne! Or they will overwhelm you!" Imilcone tried to bring her back to normal. The enchanter was now on the verge of collapse, more than her. If he still had any mana left, it would be comparable to a drop in a now-empty jar.

    It was not fair! It was not fair! She was an adamantium rank! She could not collapse so easily.

    But her breathing was becoming muffled, her legs were on the verge of collapsing, and the enemies in front of her seemed to be growing more and more. Even her quiver was almost empty. A couple of shots, at most.

    Only Crystal Tear was standing now. The corpses of the other adventurers laid their gaze on the woman as if they were calling out to her, ''Your turn will come soon.''

    Ah, death. For the life she had chosen was a trusted companion. Always by your side, never letting go. Watching, in silence, her every step, her every move. And Lilianne had accepted it. She knew that one day the lady in black would touch her, too, with her love-filled hands.

    But only now did she realize that what she had tried to rationalize all her life, what her logic had tried, foolishly, to lock away in a casket far from her mind had now been opened. And he had poured its contents, overflowing with anxieties, fears, and despair, entirely upon her.

    The rancid smell of a Bafolk''s breath was so close as to be asphyxiating. A blow from the club nearly struck her in the back of the head. But the ranger was quicker, and using the short sword she always carried, she swiftly slit the Beastman''s throat.

    ''I can''t continue like this.''

    For every one of those horrors she killed, a second one popped up. Now here came ten. No, twenty. No, thirty.

    ''Didn''t we have a secret plan to repel them? Was letting us all die their great stratagem?''

    Lilianne cursed everyone. The Draconic Kingdom. The Slaine Theocracy. The Beastmen. No matter how irrational and stupid, the adventurer just needed to find someone to pour out that frustration she was feeling at that moment.

    The ranger made her way through the enemies, wounding and striking as many as she could. Her left arm was now full of wounds, and she was certain that one of her ears had been cut off. But she continued to flail about like a fury. If she was going to die, she might as well do it by giving it her all.

    She managed to wriggle out of the three armat blockades, gaining precious breath. The woman exhaled and inhaled deeply, praying that that futile gesture could bring her back to full strength.

    ''Imilcone...''

    It was then that she realized what had happened to her comrade. His head had been skewered on a pike, and from his now lifeless eyes the only plea she could read was ''why me?''

    ''Rest in peace, old friend.''

    Lilianne did not even have time to allow herself to become despondent, so desperate was the situation. She sneaked into an alley of the citadel, trying to avoid the enemy troops, who by now had taken control of all the main streets.

    ''The walls must have fallen at this point. And Cerabrate, where has he gone?''

    There was no need for her to mull it over too much. After sneaking around for a few minutes, the girl popped into a small square where she found her leader.

    The Holy Knight had rallied the last survivors, mounting what was, from any point of view, a desperate defense. He had been encircled and seemed to be in the middle of a... duel?

    His opponent was a wolfman with dangerous air and a larger and more massive stature than ordinary ones. A Beastman lord, probably. The bloody sword he wielded and Cerabrate''s severed arm made it obvious who had the advantage. They had probably staged that little show to humiliate the champion of the humans and break down the morale of those still resisting.

    The demi-humans shouted and cheered on their champion, longing for a display that would entertain them.

    ''As if they needed all this to humiliate us even more...'' Thought the ranger.

    Crystal Tear''s leader continued to fight like a lion, banging out blistering blows, hoping to at least bring home his rival''s head as a trophy.

    His valor was undeniable. Following his example, the survivors attempted to emulate their hero''s ardor. Adventurers of the lowest rank and ordinary militia fought with a fortitude that was rarely possible to see on the battlefield.

    ''I wonder if they would continue to show such courage if they knew the real reason why Cerabrate fought so ardently.''

    His comrade''s ''tastes'' were not exactly a secret, but neither were they something exactly on everyone''s lips.

    If she had to be honest, Lilianne found her reasons for fighting the Holy Knight absolutely disgusting, and if there was a better alternative, she would not have hesitated to switch teams to avoid dealing with that lolicon.

    But when it came to directing a fight, very few could boast Cerabrate''s skills. There was a reason he was considered the champion of the Draconic Kingdom. In all those years, his number of victories against Beastmen had been an almost unattainable goal for everyone else.

    Yet, looking at him now, dripping with sweat and blood as he could barely parry his rival''s blows, all his flaws were coming to the surface. He was no longer the shining knight who stood up for the weakest, but just a sleazy, overly arrogant pervert who was about to get what he deserved.

    Yes, there was no doubt about it. Cerabrate was going to die there, like the most common of soldiers.

    But was this what she desired? Without him, the Draconic Kingdom would have lost one of the few weapons at its disposal against the invasion.

    Lilianne was an adventurer. She had chosen that profession to chase glory and power. Now, she could do nothing but curse herself.

    ''I have only one arrow left.''

    If she had helped her leader, she would have died. Of this, Lilianne was sure. The demihumans would soon discover the alley she had taken refuge in and it would not take them long to overwhelm her.

    The woman gripped her bow.

    Perhaps she would make it out. If she had not encountered too dangerous enemies and had waited until night there was little hope of escape.

    The ranger aimed at the wolfman''s neck.

    Lilianne had already made her decision.

    "[Focus]" With the last remaining ounce of energy she activated the martial art.

    Cerabrate was about to be pierced. The demihumans were roaring in ecstasy. She fired the arrow. The world for a moment stood still.

    The ranger prayed. When was the last time she had done this?

    The shot hit the target squarely, which began to stagger in pain. Cerabrate lived up to his nickname of "Fierce Flash '''' and in a heartbeat sliced off the beast lord''s head, which fell a few feet away from him.

    Everyone, men and Beastmen alike, stopped. No one could understand what was happening. Only the Holy Knight was quick enough to take advantage of the situation.

    Then some zoastia began to scream. They had noticed her. But it didn''t matter. Cerabrate had rounded up the survivors and managed to back away toward one of the fortress towers. Her task had been accomplished.

    ''Maybe dying is not so bad after all.''

    She could no longer even hold her sword. But she was satisfied nonetheless. Finally, for once in her life, Lilianne felt she had made the right choice.

    The Beastmen were now only a few steps away. Soon it would all be over. Except...

    An hour ago

    As the Sunlight Scripture member had reported, the assault started that very night. It was unusual that the enemy had decided that very moment to launch the attack. If they had waited a few more days, they could have counted on even less resistance.

    Perhaps there was a design behind it that he could not understand, or perhaps the Beastmen had simply grown tired of waiting and decided to give in to their instincts so they could bask in the blood of battle.

    They were just brutes devoid of intellect, weren''t they? That was what the Theocracy preached.

    "Captain," Iovino''s voice distracted Gazef from his thoughts. "The siege towers are approaching. What shall we do?"

    There was only one answer he could give his second.

    "The only thing we are capable of doing. War."

    He arranged the archers on the western walls. A cloud of flaming arrows fell on the attackers. Some of the siege machines caught fire as the stench of burning began to waft through the air.

    But it was not enough to stop the march.

    If the humans knew how to shoot arrows, the Beastmen knew how to shoot darts. In the air some aarakocra, bird-like men, began to tower over the walls, hurling their crossbows at the archers arranged on the walls.

    The direction of the battle immediately changed in the sky, with both enemy forces trying to eliminate each other.

    "They are almost here," Iovino reported. The paladin was already ready to give battle. He would not have to wait much longer.

    "Okay." Gazef breathed deeply, the towers now attached to the walls. "Let''s get started."

    Hundreds of Beastmen of the most disparate species began to pour like a flooded river on their soldiers. Their war cries rang like drums in the men''s ears, trying to convey terror among their ranks.

    But the paladins of the Theocracy were no ordinary men. To those who stood in defense of humanity, those sounds were just silly noises devoid of any relevance.

    "Okay, into position! Let''s show them what we''re made of!"

    Hearing his orders, his unit stood like a fortress, shields side by side. Hordes of demi-humans swooped down on that impenetrable formation, foolishly hoping to overwhelm it, but found themselves easily mowed down by Slaine''s soldiers.

    "Keep it up! Go, go!" The former mercenary''s shouts gave vigor as his men continued to defend the walls with as much strength as they could.

    For the moment their position held, but soon the numerical disadvantage would be felt, and by that time they could no longer rely on their narrow position to hold out.

    ''I hope the others can hold out a little longer.''

    There were not enough men from his unit to place them on all sides of the citadel. He had therefore opted to divide them into two groups, one on the western side and one on the northern side where he believed attacks would be concentrated.

    For the moment, his intuition seemed to have proved him right. Their units continued to hold out, thanks in part to the support of the adventurers who had remained in the town. Most of them had decided to leave Gelone, frightened by the large army that was preparing to attack them.

    Gazef did not condemn them for this. But he was grateful that some of them, whether out of a sense of duty or for money and fame, had decided to stay.

    ''Cerabrate is leading them, there should be no problem on that front.''

    The key thing was to have confidence in his comrades and to focus all his attention on his area of responsibility. If he got distracted because he was worried about something he was not currently in control of, he could have made a fatal mistake.

    "Up!"

    A volley of darts thrown by the Beastmen tried to hit part of his unit squarely in the air. But his men were prepared, and they raised their shields with speed, repelling that shower of shots.

    "Captain, let''s counterattack!" Iovino charged with a handful of soldiers, breaking through the enemy lines. Like a storm, Slaine''s men began to reap casualties as the clang of metal from swords and spears composed a symphony of death.

    "[Holy Strike] [Holy Ray]."

    The paladins seemed to be unstoppable, their skills shining on that starless night, as the white light on their weapons clashed with the dirt and blood of the unfortunate who faced their fury.

    Gazef felt a strange feeling pervade him. Pride. Now that he saw his men spitting blood and giving effort to all their energy to fight, he felt his doubts begin to dissipate.

    The captain of Slaine began to throw himself into the fray. He would never admit it to anyone, too humble to brag, but there was a reason he had become the captain of that unit.

    Gazef was strong. Strong as few were. Seeing him fight was like watching the performance of an outlier. His every lunge was precise and ruthless. Every parry was perfect, every counterattack calibrated to the right moment.

    "Charge!"

    For a moment, the Beastmen thought that the one in front of their eyes was not a human, but a lost lord of some species infusing their ranks. For some of them, it was their first encounter with the natural instinct which is fear. The less brave tried to run away, being skewered by the spears of the human soldiers, who certainly did not miss that moment of distraction.

    The frenzy of the fight was beginning to work its way into the former mercenary''s mind. Now there were no longer the ideals of Theocracy or the defense of humanity at stake. But something more primal. It was life or death. Nothing more, nothing less.

    It was no longer a battlefield. But an operating table. And he was the surgeon.

    In his hands, the sword was like a needle, able to penetrate every crevice of the demi-humans'' armors with extreme accuracy. They would collapse after tasting his delicate touch, unable to do anything to stop him.

    "Captain, together!"

    Iovino stepped behind him. The two were a natural team. After one struck, the other was already ready to launch a second attack.

    Dozens and dozens of enemies fell to the ground as if bowing before their skills.

    "Come on, come on. Let''s keep fighting!"

    Gazef incited with as much breath as he had in his body. Every second of that battle seemed interminable. Fatigue was beginning to seep through his men.

    They had lost their initial charge, and now things were beginning to get difficult. For every soldier they lost, their position began to creak.

    One minute subjected their bodies to unprecedented tension. And the clock kept running its hands faster and faster.

    The Beastmen, on the other hand, seemed to be endless. Two or three fallen in their ranks were nothing, and their advance continued undaunted.

    They were losing, there was no other way to define the situation. Before long, they were down to less than half. They continued to fight fiercely, sure. But for how much longer?

    "We won''t be able to defend the walls much longer," Gazef said, addressing his second. "Iovino, gather the survivors and head for the main tower. You will give support to General Barca."

    "But then we will be trapped." The narrow corridors of the towers could have brought them an advantage only if they had remained at full strength. After a long assault, they would be left only as cornered rats.

    "Trust me, you remember that plan we higher-ups studied, don''t you?" Iovino nodded as he sliced an armat that had gotten too close. "The show will start soon. Now go, I''ll cover for you."

    "But so, you-"

    "Go, I said! This is an order!" When had he ever been so authoritarian in his life? Had he finally learned how to play the role of the leader? "Don''t worry, I still have a potion and a lot of energy to spare. If anyone has a chance to get out of this alive, it''s me."

    His deputy did not seem convinced. Perhaps it was because he understood that Gazef for one did not believe those words. But an order remained an order. And the men of the Theocracy are not known for their insubordination.

    "I hope to see you alive again, captain."

    Gazef did not reply. What could he possibly have said at that moment?

    ''To perish protecting one''s subordinates. That doesn''t sound like a bad death.''

    Perhaps that was the answer. A glorious death after securing what he cared about. Ironic that he had gotten there at the very end of his journey.

    But Gods can be capricious, making available to us what we have sought all our lives only when it is no longer useful to us.

    How many were hurling themselves at him? He couldn''t even count them anymore. But he pushed them back. Even as his muscles screamed ragged cries of pain, even as his synapses begged him to end the torment, he would not give up. No, because that''s what heroes do.

    When it all seems over, they completely reverse the outcome.

    Not that he felt that way. The words of praise addressed to him always sounded devoid of real value, an empty rumbling that loomed meaningless in his mind.

    But now he felt he could begin to give himself a moment''s peace. It really did not matter whether he was a hero, a champion, or whatever other terms they had invented to define him. He was fighting to protect something feeble.

    Wasn''t that enough? And if the answer was no, to hell with it. He would have lived, and died, following his ideals, no matter how foolish they might have been. He was a simple man. And simple philosophies suited a stupid like him.

    "[Body Strengthening] [Focus Battle Aura]."

    The martial arts enveloped him as he continued to strike. Gazef felt his blows getting weaker, more inaccurate. He could not continue much longer.

    "[Mental Enhancement]."

    The former mercenary concentrated, ignoring the pain. It was easy, yes, easy. He gritted his teeth as an armat turmoil tried to overpower him. They thought of capturing him so easily? What a joke!

    He stepped back and drew his fencing again. His sword had seen more blood in an hour than an ordinary man sees in a lifetime. Was he innocent?

    He cut off the head of a horuner. How much blood had he spilled? Could he truly call himself without sin?

    "[Flow Acceleration]."

    Here the doubts came back to assail him again, relentlessly. All that death, all that blood. That was the life he had decided to follow. Why?

    Because wielding a weapon was the only thing he knew how to do. Even though he hated it, even though he would much rather have been limited to competing only in sports tournaments or friendly matches, the God of War called him to himself as a proud father.

    This was what he was born for, after all. A farmer''s life, a happy family, and a quiet old age did not suit someone like him. Perhaps it was for the best.

    His bones were beginning to creak, his muscles twitching giving rise to forms of pain he didn''t even know he could feel. He kept fighting as his senses lost focus. His vision blurred; his sense of smell was lost in the smell of corpses that now seemed a natural part of the landscape. Fingers trembled, barely managing to keep a firm grip on the sword.

    "[Instant cou...] Argh..."

    He had been struck. A spear had penetrated his chest, causing him excruciating pain.

    ''That''s all right, I''m satisfied.''

    He could no longer even stand upright. A wolfman''s hatchet was ready to put an end to him. By now the demi-humans had conquered most of the fortress.

    He smiled. The plan had succeeded, now he could only rest in peace. He only hoped that Iovino and the others had managed to get to safety.

    After closing his eyes, he waited in silence for the end. Nothing. Death was stranger than he thought. No, he wasn''t dead yet. Strange.

    Gazef opened his eyes and the only thing he saw was his assailant torn apart by the flaming swords of angelic figures and a figure shrouded in black who laid a hand on his shoulder in a gentle manner.

    "Good work, Sir Stronoff. We''ll take it from here."

    Before he lost consciousness, the only thing Gazef noticed was the strange crystal in the hands of the Sunlight Scripture captain.

    Middle Earth Month, 14th day, 22.30

    The past few weeks had been tiring for Nigun and his men. Going back and forth relentlessly throughout the Draconic Kingdom, with few moments of rest, taking the utmost care not to run into too large a group of Beastmen.

    And all this for what? To bring as many demihumans'' corpses as possible to the acolytes of the end.

    He was a scripture captain, not a man of toil. But it was his job to overlook that. The mission took precedence over any frivolity.

    ''Now Khajit, show me the fruit of your labor.''

    From his high position, he could see the light of the stars and moon reflecting on the citadel. By now, much of it had been taken over by the Beastmen, who poured into its streets like an infestation of cockroaches.

    "Horuner with their infernal stench. Styx with their graceless horns. Zoastia, devoid of any form of grace. Wolfmen, just overgrown dogs. Armat, filthy rats. Stone eater, of limited intelligence. And all the other species that make up this disgusting rabble, your time has come. You will soon regret turning against us humans!"

    Their enemies thought they had now won as they besieged the last fortifications where the survivors had gathered. Nothing could have been more wrong. The trap had been sprung.

    Various types of undead began to emerge from the dungeons of the fortress. In addition to those of the lowest level, such as skeletons and zombies, there were creatures of quite a different caliber such as grave keepers, plague bombers, organ eggs, wraiths, and, above all, the reanimated bodies of the raw materials that Nigun had graciously granted to his fellow citizens.

    Taken by surprise, the rival army suffered a severe backlash as the hellish horde swarmed upon them.

    Indeed, the number of undead controlled by their necromancers was far greater than would normally have been expected by even some of the most experienced lich.

    But the Theocracy''s resources far exceeded those of ordinary countries. Judging the situation risky, and to prevent the collapse of one of the few neighboring human kingdoms, a kingdom over which they had great influence to boot, the High Council had given Nigun two secret cards.

    The first of these was now in Khajit''s hands. A crystal that contained magic that surpassed common logic. Their researchers had spent the past decades and countless resources to develop that seventh-level spell. But now their hard work was bearing fruit.

    The Beastmen''s coveted prey had become their prison. Locked within the citadel walls, there were few escape routes for the enemy army, which found itself completely surrounded.

    It had been a gamble on their part, but they could not afford to waste such a powerful spell without ensuring the greatest number of casualties among the invaders.

    Waiting until the last minute when most of those inferior beasts had gathered in their streets had been the only plan with which they could ensure adequate carnage.

    Certainly, many valiant men had died. But theirs had been a sacrifice that Nigun had willingly offered. After all, most of the Theocracy''s soldiers had survived and it had been mostly foolish adventurers and Draconic Kingdom soldiers who had perished in the assault. Nothing too important was lost.

    "These demi-humans are tougher than I expected."

    As much as it annoyed him, he had to admit that the Beastmen fought valiantly. After an initial lurch, their lords had recovered some sort of order, bringing their soldiers into a defensive position.

    But the undead were not the only part of the plan they had hatched to cleanse those lands of that garbage.

    "Ian," activating the [Message] spell, Nigun contacted his second, who had brought half of the Sunlight Scriptures to the northern walls. "Here we have eliminated all the enemies, how does it proceed from you?"

    "There are no more foes on the walls, no more birdmen in the sky. Our angels had no trouble doing a clean job." His vice-captain''s tone was strangely serious. Even a man as jovial as he was could not help but be stunned at the sight.

    Yes, because by now that fortress had become a macabre stage where cries of despair and screams of pain had found a suitable place to perform.

    But it would not be enough; going on at that pace they would inflict a serious blow, of course, but they would not achieve the absolute victory they desired.

    And this is where Sunlight Scripture would come in. For much of the siege, they had remained hidden in the main tower under the guise of protecting General Barca. But now that the enemies were exhausted and busy surviving against a tireless enemy, their angels could have brought down God''s judgment on them.

    Nigun prayed. Alah Alaf and his siblings were to be worshiped on such an auspicious day. The warmth of prayer brought serenity to that cold night when the divine will was about to be fulfilled.

    "Go on the attack!"

    With a flex of his arm, he gave the signal. The feathers of the archangel flames vibrated in the air, as the Theocracy''s operatives began to unleash their magical repertoire to put even more pressure on the Beastmen.

    Magic arrows, fireballs, lightning, and an assortment of the most disparate spells began to fall like raindrops on the streets.

    "Wonderful, stupendous, magnificent!"

    He felt his body quiver in excitement. Was it the angels singing that heavenly symphony just for him?

    So many nonhumans were exterminated, and so many good deeds were accomplished. His eyes grew moist. What a fool. It was a delightful sight, but there was no need to be moved. Not yet.

    It was time for the final touch. A small detail that would immortalize that moment as a masterpiece in the history of the human race.

    He clutched in his hands the crystal that had been handed to him. The second secret weapon he had been entrusted with.

    The magical object began to glow, with a light that would put the firmament itself to shame.

    "Come, Dominion Authority!"

    At his invocation, the energy of the crystal began to be released as he summoned the messenger of the deities to that earthly plane.

    After the legendary angel was summoned, the area was bathed in holy white-blue light while a slight fragrance was brought to the air. Its head and body were obscured and covered with numerous glowing feathered wings and decorated with royal tablets. At the front of its head, a glowing divine magic circle emitted a glazing light.

    "Observe," he said, addressing his men. Although their heads were covered by the hoods they used to wear, Nigun was sure that wonder was present on their faces. "This is the power we have been granted!"

    The angel was waiting for his order. It would not have been kind to let a legendary creature wait.

    "Holy Smite!"

    At his command, the sky shattered as a celestial glow hit a group of unfortunate demihumans.

    Ash, only that remained after the attack.

    "Did you see?" He couldn''t stop laughing. "What an overwhelming force!"

    By now the Beastmen were in disarray. That last enemy had broken their last hopes. Some tried to flee, being unceremoniously mowed down by the Scriptures.

    Others tried to resist, but by now the balance had shifted sharply in favor of humanity. Undead and angels did not take long to wipe out the last bit of resistance.

    They had won.

    ''Now, let''s put an end to this.''

    Although they had eliminated the enemies inside, there still remained the remaining soldiers outside. The enemy general most likely stood among them.

    "They are fleeing, captain." One of his men placed his attention on a barely visible dust bowl looming on the horizon.

    "Cowards." It was the only thing the Sunlight Scripture captain managed to say.

    But his words did not reflect his actions. With a nod from him, the mass of angels, Dominion Authority included, set off in pursuit.

    Nigun waited. And waited.

    Suddenly, a slight migraine. He felt he was losing his balance. One of his subordinates caught him just in time before he fell to the ground.

    "What happened, sir?"

    "The Dominion Authority," he said, his face distraught with anger. "They eliminated him."

 Chapter 20: All that is done returns back

    Chapter 20

    All that is done returns back

    "Year 602 from the birth of the Slaine Theocracy, twenty-fourth..."

    Valerian looked outside his tent, noticing that the first rays of dawn were beginning to appear on the horizon.

    "Twenty-fifth day of Lower Earth Month. General Valerian Ein Obinie herein of the Army of Theocracy for the Suppression and Conversion of Elves to the One Truth extends his greetings to Cardinal Raymond Zarg Laurasan and Grand Marshal Gaius Copernicus Lavenza! As per protocol, I write this weekly report to update the Supreme Council on the progress of the war. I regret to inform you that we still cannot report any positive news. The Evasha Forest continues to be a place fraught with dangers and monsters, and our troops are proceeding with difficulty in this maze made of plants, where every nook and cranny, every crevice, hides within it dangers for our men. We continue to report reports of bark-covered giants that continue to be glimpsed in some of the deeper parts of the forest along with some long-eared ones. Although we ignore whether there is any purpose behind this unusual alliance, we feel it is unwise to leave this trail uninvestigated. We hope that the arrival of the Holocaust Scriptures, as we were promised, will bring a reversal to this stalemate. Moreover..."

    Valerian observed the pen he held in his hands. He wondered if it was appropriate for a man in his position to add in an official report what were mere impressions devoid of any real evidence.

    "... A bad feeling has been gripping us for months. Not only has the unusual presence of undead been ascertained for months, but some of the forest lords turn out to be unexpectedly quiet. Some of the areas that our scouts had indicated as the territory of those mighty creatures have for weeks turned out to be characterized by a placid, almost surreal calm. This is probably just some meaningless coincidence, but we still feel it is only fair to warn the Council of this particular situation.

    We pay our respects, pending new instructions. Until then, we will continue to carry out our duties with the utmost seriousness and self-sacrifice.

    Glory to the Six Great Gods!"

    The general reread the letter a couple more times, looking for any errors. When he was satisfied, he enclosed it in an envelope with the utmost care.

    ''And now, let''s begin the day.''

    After leaving his temporary abode, even though he had now spent more time there than in his own real home, he began his usual tour of inspection of the camp.

    The sun had not yet risen inside, but the men of the Theocracy were already bright and snappy, accomplishing their assigned tasks with no delay.

    On seeing him come out of the tent, three young men, whose ages could not have exceeded twenty, walked quickly toward him.

    "General Obinie, good morning!" They said in unison.

    "Good morning to you." Valerian returned the greeting, bringing a hand to his head to shield himself from the early morning light. "How are things going, Hadrian, Flavius, Marcus?"

    "Splendidly, sir," Hadrian replied, placing a steaming cup of coffee in the older man''s hands.

    Valerian savored the drink slowly, letting its beneficial effects ease the tiredness he felt after a sleepless night.

    "Have the problems with the supply lines been fixed?"

    "Yes, sir. A select troop led by Lieutenant Ethelo got rid of the spriggans that were hitting the roads connecting our camp with the Theocracy."

    In responding, Flavius adjusted the round glasses that kept dropping on his nose. That plump, rounded air they gave him contrasted with the efficiency with which he directed his subordinates. "Obviously, they will remain stationed in those areas for some time to make sure there are no other possible disturbances."

    "Perfect. Come, let''s walk."

    Only by taking a morning walk could his mind come into full function. Every step he took was slowed down by crowds of men approaching to pay their respects or to inform him about the new course of the war.

    "Sergeant Marracosta''s troops have just returned, they are making their report right now."

    "Some men are complaining about lack of action. We should create more teams to send out to scout."

    "As for church services, some of the priests who were supposed to arrive from the Theocracy are late. Shall we use some clerics to make up for their lack in the meantime?"

    Valerian listened intently to everything that was reported to him, instructing his assistants to record what he thought was most important, so that he could review them more calmly later.

    "What a lovely day!" Indeed, the water Goddess seemed to have blessed them with a beautiful day. A welcome change after the dreariness of recent weeks.

    They arrived in a secluded part, where some cages had been set up to temporarily house some of the breeds captured during their excursions.

    Vegetal boars, Gigahorn elks, amomongi, colo-colo, and lots of others. The Evasha Forest was a haven for all scholars of magical beasts, fauna, flora, and other creatures that could not be brought back into those classifications.

    Most importantly, there were their hated enemies. In many of the cages, hidden and frightened, dull-eyed and lifeless, some figures who at first glance could have been mistaken for ordinary humans trembled in terror at the sight of their tormentors.

    "Marcus, were these elves subjected to the usual procedure?"

    The young man looked coolly at their captives, pointing to the area where a pair of pointed ears once towered. "Each of them has undergone our treatment. Tonight, they will be handed over to one of our teams who will transport them to one of the nearest slave markets."

    Valerian nodded, observing a pair of women and men whose features were decidedly pleasing. "It looks like some of them will be able to fetch us a fair amount of money. Well, you can never have enough when you''re at war."

    Of all the secondary activities used to finance their army, the slave trade was by far the most profitable. The Theocracy had an absolute monopoly on that commerce. Coupled with the fact that the elves were an incredibly long-lived race and, in some cases, even endowed with magical powers, it allowed the merchants of the Theocracy to sell their ''product'' at decidedly exorbitant prices, ensuring a steady inflow of coins.

    A luxury that very few could afford, even among the humans of the Theocracy itself.

    Valerian observed a mother clutching as tightly as she could an infant, probably her son. A fleeting thought led him to reflect that, in all likelihood, they would be separated once they were sold. Very few families managed to stay together in captivity.

    That distraction ceased as quickly as it had occurred.

    When he had enlisted, he almost felt pity for those poor creatures, victims of a ruler who had triggered a conflict only on a whim. But now that time had passed, and his heart had learned to harden.

    "There have come some requests for materials from the Ministry of Magic Research, if I''m not mistaken. Hadrian, see that they are delivered as soon as possible to our couriers."

    "Will do, sir."

    Each of the three strategists was an outstanding assistant; they would have no trouble making their way up the ranks. In fact, it was not hard to imagine that one of them would one day take his place.

    Valerian, after all, was getting old. And his job did not just consist of taking carefree walks and arranging a few deliveries like any other delivery boy.

    There was a much more depressing part to his duties.

    After finishing his usual round of inspection, he returned to his quarters along with his three right arms.

    "Like every beginning of the week, bring me the casualty count." He ordered, as he sat down in the chair that had remained attached since that morning to his mahogany desk.

    Flavius pulled out from among the many papers in his hand a small report, which he quickly handed to the general.

    "Fourteen dead this week. Two paladins, three clerics, four divine casters, three archers, and two warriors," Valerian reflected aloud. Fourteen casualties. Fourteen young men or women would not return to their families. "Tell the reporter''s department to prepare letters to inform their loved ones. Let them extol their deeds before they die, detailing how heroic their sacrifice was. Even if they were to inflate the truth a little. Do we understand each other?" Some minor tweaking was justified if it served to bring comfort to those who had lost their loved ones.

    "Perfectly, sir!" The three replied in one voice.

    Valerian sighed. That task was also done. But the fatigue was still evident on his face.

    "Is something troubling you, general?" Marcus asked, concerned.

    "No, it''s nothing. It''s just that..." the man moistened his lips as he tried to put his thoughts in order. "I''m old. I''ve lost interest in leading men to their deaths."

    "Don''t say that," Hadrian tried to console him. "You are still young. I am sure you will lead us for many more years."

    "Perhaps you are right. And that''s exactly what worries me."

    "Every one of our soldiers is more than satisfied to be under your command, General!" Flavius exuded that confidence typical of youth, which for the old military man was only a distant memory. "They die in happiness, knowing that they are fighting for an ideal greater than themselves."

    Was it the truth?

    "During peaceful times, we mourn one''s passing for many days. During times of war, we are gleeful over ten thousand dead for many years."

    The three looked at him puzzled, wondering what he was talking about.

    "It''s just the words of a previous Cardinal," Valerian explained to them. "Nothing important, but lately I find myself thinking about it more than once."

    " You''re just tired, sir."

    "Would you like us to take care of the rest of the day''s assignments?"

    "That wouldn''t be a problem, there''s not much else left to do."

    "Nono, I''m fine," he reassured them with a half-smile. "It''s almost lunchtime. Why don''t you have lunch with me? We can discuss the next strategies."

    The strategists gladly accepted his proposal. After they had gone out so they could call the subordinates in charge of preparing food, Valerian was left alone.

    ''Maybe they are right. I''ve been too stressed lately. I could take a leave of absence for a few days. See my family again. I wonder how my mother is. And the little ones...how grown up they must be. Yes, that wouldn''t be a bad idea.''

    As he continued to caress those restful thoughts, he heard the sounds of footsteps tapping the earth outside his tent.

    Intrigued, he stepped out of his quarters to try to understand what the commotion was all about.

    "What''s going on?"

    No one answered his question. It took longer than expected before a paladin bearing the insignia of the water Goddess satisfied his curiosity.

    "There is an intruder, sir."

    "... An intruder?" Now that was a surprise. He could not remember an intruder since the days of... No, he could not recall a time when someone had managed to penetrate the camp since he had begun his military career in the Evasha Forest.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "Who or what is it?"

    The paladin looked embarrassed as sweat dripped profusely from his forehead.

    "An elf, sir."

    "An... elf? A single elf?" The general asked incredulously, a bad feeling beginning to peep into his thoughts.

    "He says he wants to talk to you."

    "... Where is he now?"

    "At the entrance."

    "...Did he enter through the main gate?"

    "Yes..."

    "Take me to him."

    If what they had reported to him was true, only one person could have the audacity to appear before an army of the Theocracy as if nothing had happened.

    The bad feeling was beginning to turn into a certainty.

    When he arrived, at least a hundred men lay lifeless on the ground. Just as many, if not more, had gathered in front of the mysterious intruder.

    Even if he had not been wearing that crown of thorns on his head, or had not given off such a majestic aura as to overshadow the sun itself, Valerian would have had no doubt who this mysterious elf was.

    Decem Hougan. The King of the Elves.

    He was not as the old general had imagined him. He was so young. Not like Valerian, who was beginning to lose count of the wrinkles on his face.

    That visage with perfect features, those irises that shone like diamonds set in jewels of pure gold. That lusty physique and that body devoid of imperfections.

    Was he the monster that had populated the nightmares of him and his soldiers for so many years? He looked so ... ordinary.

    Throughout his career, he had seen countless members of his race bear a vague resemblance to him. The man had to admit to himself that he was a little disappointed. Was it someone so commonplace that they had been fighting for all that time?

    A far cry from that image of terror that his superiors had painted in their descriptions of the ultimate goal of that hundred-year war.

    Whatever his impression had been, he still could not afford to take the matter under advisement.

    "Are you in charge here?" It was Decem who started to talk first, irritated by the silence that, in his opinion, was now becoming unbearable.

    "...Yes, I am." Valerian was trying to analyze the best course to take. In all, there were fifty thousand soldiers stationed in that camp at the moment. Fifty thousand.

    It was an impressive number. But would it be enough? Of this, the first-in-command of the Theocracy was not so sure.

    "I ask you to forgive me if I started entertaining some of your men," the elf said, pointing to the corpses surrounding him. What disregard for human life. How could he kill all those people without feeling a modicum of remorse? "I am sure, however, that this will not be a problem for our negotiations. Right?"

    "... Right." Valerian swallowed a bitter bite. But this was no time to let easy grudges get the best of him. His soldiers were as tense as he was, but he kept trying to keep calm. "What kind of negotiations are we talking about?"

    "I just want what has been taken from me to be returned. My daughter, whom you humans have so kindly raised for me over the years. It is time for our family to be reunited." The elf shot an icy glance at those present. The fearless hearts of the Theocracy''s paladins and spellcasters for a moment were seized with despondency, despite having cast spells such as [Heart''s Lion] to keep their nerves steady. Valerian, too, found himself dazed, as an oppressive pressure began to sap his confidence. "Don''t you also find it right for a father to embrace his daughter again after such a long time?"

    "Of course..." Unlike his men, who looked at each other confusedly trying to decipher who the elf king was talking about, the general had no doubt who the object of the man''s desire was.

    An old story, which only a small number within the Theocracy knew. A secret granted only to a select few, of which Valerian himself ignored most of the details.

    "So, do you agree with me?" Decem was satisfied, indeed elated. "What joy. This saves me a great deal of time."

    "It is not for me to make decisions on this matter," Valerian began to explain, carefully weighing the words to use so as not to infuriate that monster. "I can only refer your wishes to the Supreme Council, which will make the final decision. I ask you to wait for their response."

    The king did not seem to shine in intelligence. That he had shown up here alone, after all, might have turned out to be fortunate. The plan that was beginning to form in his mind was to stall for time, avoiding any direct conflict with false promises, while the Cardinals would have prepared a special team using Scripture members to attack him by surprise. There was only a need to stall.

    "I see." Decem was strange. He kept running his chin between his index finger and thumb, while his mind seemed lost in thought. "Point me to your messenger, then. So that I may know who will bring my request to your ridiculous priests."

    "I will arrange to choose the appropriate man as soon as possible," Valerian replied, already savoring the victory. It had been easy, perhaps too easy. "In the meantime, why don''t we agree on a place to meet again so we don''t waste time when we get the answer?"

    "I think there''s been a misunderstanding..." Upon hearing those words, the general was enveloped by a mixture of fear and despair, although he could not understand why. "I asked you to point me to your messenger so that I would know who to spare. He alone will see the dawn of a new day. I am sorry." The tone of his voice did not seem to express displeasure; on the contrary. There was no doubt that he was amused.

    All present fell silent. That statement uttered with such confidence would have turned out to be madness if it came out of anyone else''s mouth. But when it was the elf ruler who said it, it appeared tremendously real.

    "I beg your pardon, but I don''t think I quite understood," Valerian prayed to the Six Gods that there had been a miscommunication. Perhaps, in the ancient language of the elves, those words had another meaning. "But did you just say you''re going to kill us all?"

    "Exactly."

    "Everyone in this camp?"

    "Maybe some will be able to escape me. But you cannot expect me to crush one by one all the ants that stand in my path. Even the most skilled gardener cannot expect to eliminate all the insects that infest his garden."

    He was serious. The strongest army in the region was only a minor inconvenience for the man. And worst of all, Valerian had no problem believing him. How could he have thought that being was... normal?

    "So? If you don''t decide quickly, I will personally take care of selecting the ''chosen one''. You fanatics really like that word, don''t you?"

    Decem smiled. That devilish grin was the most disturbing thing the old soldier had ever seen in his long life. It was an affront itself to the Gods and a mockery of everything the men of the Theocracy believed in.

    Their religion and faith were merely the object of that madman''s derision. Did he believe that they had devoted their entire lives to some kind of lie?

    Was this how it was going to end, then? The fate of the Theocracy would be written that day, and Valerian was the main actor in that farce.

    The general began to back away. When the battle broke out, he could not afford to be overwhelmed immediately, or the army would be on a collision course.

    Decem kept looking at him, waiting for his response. When he realized it would never come, he merely noted with disappointment his refusal. "So, is this your choice? Don''t tell me I didn''t warn you. You could have died without suffering if you had listened to me."

    Valerian was already about to start running, as he accumulated all the martial arts he knew to increase his speed. His soldiers were already getting into position, ready to sacrifice their lives to shield him.

    But...

    "General Obinie!" Marcus'' voice. The boy was rushing toward him. He was dripping with blood, although he did not seem to have a single wound. His straw-colored hair was completely covered with a scarlet liquid, making it unrecognizable.

    "What''s going on?"

    "We''re being attacked!"

    "I know that. I..." He turned around and noticed that Decem was still in place, looking at him scoffingly like a court jester. "I was talking to the elf king."

    "Elves?" His strategist was stunned. When he realized what was happening, fear began to paint his face. "It''s not elves that are attacking us. It''s them, sir."

    "They who?"

    "The lords of the forest."

    And that''s when Valerian understood. He was not the one who was buying time. From the beginning, he had fallen into the trap of the one he had thought he could fool.

    Aware of his opponent''s reputation he had believed that the king would never bother to take anyone else with him. And the lords of the forest, to boot. All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

    "Damn you!" He vented his frustration on his rival. But the latter did not even dignify him with a glance. Instead, he continued to look tauntingly at the men who had circled around him but was unable to take an initiative. He was inviting them to take part in the dance, but no one dared to move.

    "We must escape as soon as possible!" Marcus tried to bring him back to his senses. Valerian tried to calm down. He had his men to think about now.

    "How many enemies are there?"

    "Seven. A leslie and a Galatian Byssus attacked the eastern part of the camp. Our experts with the fire element are trying to hold them off, but I don''t think they will be able to resist. An amomongi and a vegetal boar, on the other hand, have penetrated from the west, hitting our paladin orders. A colo-colo and a quinotaur, are attacking the walls to the south. So far we are holding, but I don''t think we will succeed much longer."

    "A quinotaur? Don''t those creatures only live in the water?"

    "Not this one, sir."

    "What about the other two? What about..." Before he could finish speaking a roar broke the air in two.

    A dragon covered in bright green scales, reminiscent of jade, and a griffin whose size was far greater than any specimen Valerian had ever seen in his life were plying the skies.

    "A dragon? There''s a bloody dragon?"

    "That''s why I told you we must hurry, sir. We won''t hold out much longer."

    "What happened to Flavius and Hadrian?"

    "They..."

    He understood. What a blow to the Theocracy. But this was no time to let despondency take over. He had to be able to save as many lives as possible before ...

    "Behemoth!"

    The king had decided to take part in the fun. The earth shook. His men tried to stop what was an inevitable fate.

    The strange creature came to life. And it began to run. Fun? No, frightening. His arms extended, bringing back to the mother earth from which he was born those who foolishly tried to attack him. It spun like a top, crushing those who were sucked into its movement. A gust of wind began to tousle Valerian''s hair, which by now had found no solution but to flee.

    The creature jumped. A handful of men were heading toward their position, trying to get their general to safety. They were crushed, and a crater with their remains was the only grave they could get.

    Valerian saw that monster made of earth and rock begin to rampage. His right hand smashed through skulls, letting blood soak the virgin earth. The left hand was flinging all the unfortunate within its radius, breaking bones as if they were made of sand. A few times, the hands would join to form a hammer that would come down like an avalanche on his men.

    Swords were useless. Spears were useless. Arrows were useless. Magic was useless.

    Paladins collapsed, magic casters perished, clerics died. Faith was vanishing.

    The man felt himself aging decades in a few minutes. His breath could no longer hold. All those years of work were going up in flames in mere moments. The camp was now lost. The elves'' cages had been opened, and even their old prisoners, those who had not attempted to escape at least, had decided to take part in the battle.

    The screams of terror from what had once been the world-shaking army had merged with the sounds of nature in an ode to death.

    ''Are we saving the world? Or are we taking it by force?

    Are we saving people? Or are we hurting them?

    Are we giving our lives as gifts to the gods? Or do we foolishly lose them to a mocking fate over which we have no control?

    Are we blindly faithful? Or just stupid?

    No, we are none of these things.

    None of this. Because ... our twisted morality has already destroyed everything.''

    "Everything finished. Just like that, in an instant."

    Valerian wanted to laugh. Their sins had pulled out the sword and stabbed them, just at the moment when they thought they were above all judgment.

    "Marcus? Marcus?" Where had he gone? Ah, of course. Dead.

    Why run away again? By now he had no hope left.

    "Any last words?" It was him. The king of the elves. He was to blame. Him. And no one else. All his fault.

    "The guard dies, but doesn''t surrender!" To fulminate with such a word the enemy who kills you is to win. The fracture of a chest for outrage, the overflow of agony bursting. That''s all he had left.

    "Humph, you fool."

    These were the last words Valerian Ein Obinie, valiant general of the Slaine Theocracy, fifty years of age, heard.

    Upper Water month, 1st day, 8.00

    Antilene woke up that day, ate breakfast, washed, and dressed. She arrived at her station on time, as she did every day. Nothing significant happened during the day.

    Upper Water month, 2nd day, 8.00

    Antilene that day woke up, had breakfast, washed, and dressed.

    She arrived at her station on time, as she did every day.

    A few words were exchanged with Rufus.

    "Do you think anything interesting will happen today?"

    "Who can tell but the Gods."

    "You always say that."

    "Because it''s true."

    "How boring..."

    "What do you want me to do?"

    "Tell me a story. About some previous members of the past Scriptures."

    Nothing of note happened during the day. It was fun, nonetheless.

    Upper Water month, 3rd day, 8.00

    Antilene woke up that day. She was not very hungry, so she skipped breakfast. After washing and dressing, she headed to her station, as she did every day.

    Aeneas in the afternoon came to see her.

    "How did the last mission go?"

    "Fine, there were no major complications."

    "What did you deal with this time?"

    "A colony of man-forms was starting to cause problems in the Empire."

    "Were they strong?"

    "Not so much, but they were numerous. It took us hours to search from top to bottom the dungeon where they were stationed. Ah, they had a couple of champion specimens that were insidious. But well, weaker than our members anyway. I could almost have stayed home, honestly. At least Windstride had fun torturing the little ones."

    "I see. How is the search for a bride going?"

    "I''d rather not talk about it."

    Antilene laughed. That day, too, passed without anything particularly worth remembering.

    Upper Water month, 4th day, 8.00

    Antilene woke up. She was very hungry. She lost so much time eating that she arrived late. Fortunately, no one noticed. The girl read a couple of pages from a book she had brought with her.

    ''The heroine exists only as a function of the male protagonist. It''s not very compelling, this tale. Well, let''s see how it ends at least.''

    The ending was even more disappointing than the middle part. Once again, a day to forget.

    Upper Water month, 5th day, 8.00

    Antilene arrived early. She did not want to repeat the last day''s mistake, even though she knew no one would scold her. It simply didn''t seem right to take advantage of the situation.

    Rufus, however, noticed that unexpected advance.

    "Why did you come earlier than usual today?"

    "No particular reason."

    "Is it perhaps because you arrived a few minutes late yesterday?"

    "Did you notice?"

    "Of course."

    "And why didn''t you say anything?"

    "What was I supposed to say? It''s not like much has changed."

    "I suppose you''re right."

    "Antilene?"

    "Yes?"

    "I''m proud of you."

    The half-elf blushed slightly. That day had not been so bad.

    Upper Water month, 6th day, 8.00

    By now you may have guessed that Antilene also woke up that day, got ready, ate breakfast, and headed to her usual location. Today, however, she did not stay in the same spot all day.

    In the afternoon the Cathedral of Darkness gymnasium became her second home. The girl spent so many hours there that it was only when the sweat had reached unbearable levels that she decided it was time to return.

    It had not been a bad day, but not a memorable one either. One like many others would have been the correct way to describe it.

    Upper Water month, 7th day, 10.00

    That was her day off. So Antilene decided to sleep in late. She took advantage of the beautiful day to have breakfast in what had become one of her favorite stores. A childish voice greeted her with warmth.

    "Hello, Marguerite. How are you?"

    "Aunt Nazaire! Do you want to see the new puppet show I''ve designed?"

    "Nothing would make me happier!"

    "Then make yourself comfortable while I get everything ready! You will be blown away!"

    "Who taught you these words?"

    "You!"

    Now that was a day worthy of being remembered through the years.

    Upper Water month, 8th day, 8.00

    Antilene woke up that day. There was something strange in the air, but the girl did not pay much attention to it. After finishing her usual routine, she was about to go back to her room.

    On her way there, Aeneas stopped her to report some news.

    She smiled.

 Chapter 21: As the Gods will

    INTERLUDE

    DELIVER US

    "Come on Elisa. We can''t afford to squander time."

    I kept running. My old shoes were almost completely worn out by this point. I was tired. So tired.

    "Where is Daddy?" I asked. It had been hours since we had said our final goodbyes.

    My mother still refused to look at me. Her gaze remained focused in front of her. Drops of sweat trickled down her cheeks.

    "Don''t worry," she replied. Her eyes continued to be turned toward the horizon. The grip on her hand tightened. "Daddy will join us in no time. We just have to keep going. Just a few more steps and we''ll be there. There''s Dolly to keep you company, right? Give each other strength."

    With my remaining free hand, I squeezed my best friend. Feeling her near to my heart gave me energy, but I still felt adrift.

    Where exactly were we going? My mother still had yet to tell me where we were heading. Not that I doubted her, but I was beginning to worry.

    "You''ll see, you''ll love the new house," she said again and again. Perhaps the silence was bothering her? Mom was never a fan of quiet. "It will take some getting used to, but I''m sure you''ll come to love it in time."

    I liked the old house. It was small and dirty, but as long as I was together with Mommy and Daddy, I was fine. We didn''t have much, but we were content with what we had. Why were we leaving so quickly now? I kept repeating this to myself over and over, hoping for an explanation.

    We weren''t alone in our escape. The other villagers were also accompanying us. Strange, wasn''t it?

    All the other women, like Mommy, were running with their children in their arms or on their shoulders. Many of them were in tears. But not me. To be honest, I wanted to, but I held back.

    "How come Mrs. Witchcraft is lying on the ground?" "Aren''t we assisting her?" Our elderly neighbor stood immobile, her gaze fixed on the earth, and she made no move to get up.

    "She is just resting. Nothing to be concerned about. In a few minutes, you''ll see her as snappy as ever."

    "Why isn''t Mr. Witchcraft there with her?" That old couple was inseparable; I had never seen them stay apart for so long before.

    "He''s with your father. They have some very important work to do, but they will join us shortly. Yes, they will join us soon. All you have to do is be a good girl. Can you be a good little girl? For Mommy?"

    I gazed at her face for the first time. Her brow was slightly elevated, her brow tight, and her mouth was half-open. That expression was familiar to me.

    It was the same one she had every time she put me to bed, after she looked out the window. When she warned me about the monsters that lived outside the village.

    "Yes, Mom." I couldn''t think of anything more to say. I didn''t understand what was happening anymore, but the few breaths I had left saved me from making too much of it.

    I noticed that my right foot was beginning to bleed. Some splinters must have pierced my skin. The pain was excruciating. Why couldn''t we just stop for a moment?

    I gazed about, attempting not to focus on the wound. Only then I realized that my father and Mr. Witchcraft were not the only ones who had vanished.

    The fathers of Amir and Zvi were also absent. I couldn''t even catch a glance of Mr. Uri. How strange. Why were only the men left behind?

    As I kept wondering where everyone else was, I noticed that we had approached the entrance to a clearing. Mother and the other adults had come to a halt and began talking.

    "We can''t go in there. We''re not as familiar with the forests as they are."

    "And what do you propose to do? Go back? Best of luck not getting caught."

    "The kids are exhausted. How are they going to run with all those vines and trees and who knows what else?"

    "Would you rather they end up in their own hands? You know what happens to humans who get captured."

    I felt very perplexed as they continued to dispute. Who were the ''them'' they were referring to? And why were they after us?

    I was starting to feel hungry. And with me so were all the other children. Many of them were sighing from tiredness, sobbing from hunger, and pleading to go home.

    The mothers were attempting, with very little success, to calm them down. But, perhaps I was mistaken, they also appeared to be on the edge of failing.

    I kept Dolly pressed against my chest. Not that I didn''t understand their feelings. It''s simply that they looked... pointless.

    My mother looked at me. She seemed almost amazed that I had remained impassive.

    "You''re a good girl, Elisa," she said softly as she gently stroked my hair. "Can you please keep going for a little while longer?"

    "Yes." No, I didn''t. But what else could I possibly have said?

    "Let''s go then."

    The group resumed its march. Mrs. Witchcraft was not among us. Maybe it was for the best. She would have detested that place.

    We had stopped running. The grownups had realized that we younger ones would collapse with the gait we had before. And that woodland was full of obstacles that slowed us down considerably.

    Roots protruding from the ground, slick walkways, and boulders impeding passage.

    And bugs. So many of them. All I did was scratch, but I continued to remain silent as I tried not to think about the pain in my foot.

    Mother had noticed the wound and ripped off a piece of her dress to bandage it for me. It hadn''t made it better, but it hadn''t made it worse either. As a result, I considered it a victory.

    I couldn''t stop thinking about Dad. I was so worried. But more than me was Mom, who remained mute. I made the decision to not say anything. More worries were not what she needed right now.

    Night fell.

    The greenery remained silhouetted in front of our gaze. I expected us to finally stop and rest, but my hopes were dashed.

    We continued our march on an empty stomach, our bodies reaching their limitations, and darkness enveloping our view.

    Having reached that point, I knew there would be no new home waiting for us. No new village. It didn''t matter, though.

    As long as Dolly, Mother, and Father were beside me, I would fear nothing.

    Why had I brought Dad back to mind? I didn''t feel I could stay silent much longer. I wanted to scream, protest, and throw a tantrum.

    I wanted to eat one of the juicy apples that Mr. Witchcraft used to sneak past me as he watched me devour it with satisfaction.

    I wanted to play hide-and-seek with my friends, not to see them with downcast faces and no strength to react anymore.

    I wanted to lie in my bed, while my parents told me a story that would conciliate my sleep.

    I wanted to act like a young girl my age.

    Wanted, wanted, wanted. I wanted a lot of things. But I had nothing.

    "I''m truly sorry."

    I heard my mother murmur those words to an elderly woman like Mrs. Witchcraft who was lying on the ground. Collapsed might have been a better word.

    I''d resolved not to pay any more attention; there was no use in pretending that we weren''t in a terrible scenario. Looking back, I''m not sure how I wasn''t terrified at the time.

    Perhaps I didn''t comprehend the gravity of the situation because I was still a youngster. Or maybe I had opted to dismiss my negative thoughts and feelings as just a game of my mind. Something not real.

    I''m not sure how long we stayed in that jungle. But by the time we arrived on a virgin plain, the sun had long already risen.

    Its rays had never seemed so lovely to me. Some of us had plucked some fruit on our "pilgrimage," and we had resolved to put an end to the stomach aches and pains.

    There were not many of us left. I believe less than half. Many friends were lost that day. Not that there was time to regret them. That was a luxury we could not afford.

    We assumed we were safe. And we were mistaken.

    As we struggled to regain our strength, an arrow struck one of the children sitting right next to me.

    It flew straight in front of my eyes. Time slowed; seconds turned into hours.

    My friend had died before I could even grasp what was occurring.

    That was my first direct encounter with death. My mind was trying to digest the flood of information that was bombarding it. Everyone began shouting, except for me, as I was attempting to figure out if the child was still alive.

    He wasn''t. The shot had pierced his neck, killing him instantly. Those lifeless eyes. Call me crazy, but for a brief moment, I thought they were beautiful. So... at peace. As if all the worries in him had disappeared, making way for the longed-desired peace.

    And then I noticed them.

    I remembered the stories of my parents, of shadows moving in the night. Creatures who had made it their reason for living to feed on our fear. Eyes red as flames and forked tongues. Nonsense.

    Or at least, I thought until that moment.

    Those I saw resembled mature men, at least in shape, albeit larger and more muscular. However, the variances outweighed the similarities.

    The thick, dog-like layer of fur that covered their skin left no doubt that these creatures were entirely different from anything I had ever seen in my short life. The features of their faces were also evocative of some animals, although at the time I could not compare them to anything I had ever seen.

    I was a young girl, and my view of the world was limited to the insignificant life I had spent in a village hidden from the outside world.

    I stood motionless.

    "Help!"

    "Run!"

    "Someone save us!"

    All of the other humans were screeching and moving around, looking for salvation. Indistinct sounds that I couldn''t place emerged from the jaws of those monsters as well, as if by mutual agreement.

    How come I instead remained in my place? If I try to give myself an answer, nothing satisfactory comes to mind. Maybe I had already realized that my chances of salvation were nil.

    Or perhaps, now that the protective shell in which I had been raised had broken down, the prospect of constantly living on the run and in terror -like my mother and all the other people in the village- seemed meaningless.

    "Elisa, don''t freeze. We must flee immediately!"

    Yes, it was still my mother who jolted me out of my slumber. After taking me in her arms, she began to dart away with all her energy.

    In retrospect, it is amazing that a dried-up woman at the end of her rope could muster the stamina to keep moving. A miracle?

    Nonetheless, it would have been utterly useless. Our pursuers, after the first warning shot, had remained strangely still, leaving us time to move away.

    It was probably simply a game to them. We were probably never truly safe. Giving us a head start was, weird as it may sound, a method to make the hunt more honorable. Or perhaps they were simply bored and were attempting to make an otherwise uninteresting game more intriguing.

    The truth is that we had reached the end of the line at this point. There were no places to hide, nor could we physically compete with our tormentors.

    A few more minutes was all we could have hoped for.

    I saw one of those things -now I know they are called Bafolk, but at the time I could find no other term to describe them- overpowering a woman who was trying in vain to protect her child.

    "Leave me, leave us, beasts!" she screamed and screeched, kicking and beating her assailant.

    The disparity in strength was simply too great. Her defiance was fruitless.

    She was immobilized with ropes, and practically the entire rest of our group suffered the same fate.

    Soon the same fate would befall the two of us. My mother had collapsed but continued, crawling, to try to pull away. And I with her.

    One of the assailants had placed himself in front of us. He wielded a sword. Judging from his position, it was his intention to cut off our limbs to prevent us from escaping. The blade was about to cut our bodies to pieces.

    And then...

    A memory was vivid in my mind. My father had attached wires to Dolly, which he maneuvered with his fingers to allow her to stand on her feet.

    For a moment, I thought that my best friend had come to life and would finally start acting like a normal human being.

    My disappointment was immense when, after my father had disconnected those wires, Dolly lost that hard-won position.

    There, that vivid image that had accompanied me for so many years was reproduced right there before my eyes.

    The monster now stood in the same position as us, but every glimmer of life had left its body.

    Another actor had entered the scene. Covered entirely in a dark, colorless cloak, he wielded a strange weapon equipped with two curved blades on either side with a third blade in the center.

    I am sure he observed me and my mother before he muttered something that neither she nor I could understand. What I would give to be able to go back to that day and be able to clearly grasp what were the first words spoken by him in our world.

    At this point, my memories become confused. I think there was a fight -if you can call the massacre that followed that way-.

    It was so quick that I could not realize anything that was happening in front of me.

    The fact is that in the end, all our tormentors were dead. Their blood had bathed the landscape red.

    In addition to our rescuer, five others were rendering aid to us.

    They were human beings, like us. But the difference between the two groups was day and night.

    We were dirty, malnourished, weak, and pathetic.

    On the other hand, how can I describe them? No adequate words have been coined to describe their beauty and magnificence.

    If I tried to depict the shape of their bodies, I would be committing a most grievous sin, for my mere words as an ordinary girl could not even come close to encapsulating the perfection with which every smallest detail came together to create a glimpse of what was living proof that the concept of perfection existed.

    I wept. My bitter tears reflected the realization that the gulf between us and them was unbridgeable. The realization that there would never be any chance in this world to bridge that endless gap.

    But don''t think that sadness was the only emotion I felt that day. My despondency was only a drop in the sea of feelings that took shape in me. An ocean of joy and amazement at what had been a miracle that had brought us salvation.

    Our prayers had been heard.

    The Gods had come to save us.

    Chapter 21

    As the Gods will

    Upper Water Month, 1st day, 20.00

    Raymond looked at those present. Only a soft light from a few candles on either side of the table thinned the darkness of the room. The symbols of the Six Great Gods were watching them from the top of the ceiling, like protective angels.

    Each of them casts sidelong glances at their neighbors, wondering who would be the first to speak.

    Procrastination would have been futile, yet they foolishly believed they could put off that thorny issue until a later time. As if there was no such thing as a national emergency at the gates.

    The Scripture Commander went over in his head the speech he had written in his brain. By now he had lost count of how many times he had simulated that discussion in his imagination, but the man still did not feel quite ready to face it in reality.

    "It is useless to waste any more time." In the end, it was Ioannes Amram Elohim, supreme Pontifex of the Slaine Theocracy, who broke the silence. "You all know why we are here. To say that the situation is critical would be an understatement. I will spare no dramatic tones. We must find a solution, and as soon as possible."

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    "How much are the losses?" Dominic asked, his gaze shifty and lost in the void.

    "No survivors, except for a few dozen low-ranking soldiers." Gaius Copernicus Lavenza, Grand Marshal of the Theocracy, did not even attempt to sweeten the pot.

    This was no time to get lost in unnecessary pleasantries. Finding a plan of action was the top priority. Even if it had to mean draining their every resource. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

    "I don''t think there are many alternatives left," the Earth Cardinal had finally decided to voice his opinion. "We knew this moment was near. We just didn''t expect it to arrive so soon. Only the girl can end this war now. It''s time to end this age-old conflict."

    Everyone, Cardinals and department heads alike, knew who Raymond was talking about. After all, there were not many other alternatives left.

    But doubt continued to breed in the minds of some.

    "Is there really no other alternative? What if we tried to use the sacred relic left to us by the Six Great Gods? We could manipulate the elf king''s mind and order him to commit suicide." Berenice proposed with an unwarranted tinge of optimism.

    The only woman to serve in the ranks of the Cardinals did not seem entirely convinced to play it all out in a direct confrontation.

    ''You can tell she was a former member of the Holocaust Scriptures.'' Raymond thought. ''But that''s not what we need right now.''

    "This could work. But there are several problems. First, we''re not sure if the effects of Downfall of Castle and Country will work on our target. Let''s pretend it did, we would still have to prepare an adequate team to allow Lady Kaire to get close enough to him to allow her to use the sacred object. You will agree with me that only one person would be suitable for the task."

    No one dared to contradict him. After ascertaining that there were no objections, he was able to express what he actually thought. "Besides, that girl''s reason for living is none other than to kill her father. I believe that after years of faithful service, it is our duty to at least try to make her wish a reality."

    The former Black Scripture member knew well that in front of the interests of the state, there was no room for sentimentality. But as an old comrade of the half-elf, he felt compelled to respect her wishes. After all, he was certain that his old companion would never be satisfied if she could not prove her superiority against the hated parent.

    "Even if we were to send her into the open field, what are the certainties that she would be able to win? Aren''t we in danger of losing one of our trump cards?" The doubts of Yvon, Cardinal of Light, were justified. There were no guarantees that the extra seat would succeed against her father and his army of monsters.

    "She will win," Raymond had no doubts. "And I will personally assemble a team with the best members of the Black Scriptures to ensure her safety should things take a turn for the worse. Believe me, I''ve seen that girl fight. Defeating an army of fifty thousand men? Impressive, indeed absolutely ridiculous. Outside of any logic. But..." He caught his breath as he tried to read the expressions of his compatriots. "For that girl is nothing special. Even overpowering an army of a hundred thousand men would be an easy feat for her."

    Everyone remained silent. At least from that point of view, he seemed to have convinced them. Now that their defenses were lowered came the hard part.

    "Nevertheless, there is another issue we need to address."

    In truth, Raymond would have expected a few quizzical looks after that cryptic statement. His expectations were disappointing, instead, for what he was referring to was clear in everyone''s mind.

    "Argland and Platinum Dragon Lord," Cardinal Zinedine preceded him.

    "Exactly," by now the Dragon Emperor''s son was a cross and delight that thwarted their every plan only with his looming threat. If they wanted to send their secret weapon out into the open, outside their borders, they had to appeal to the clemency of the puppeteer behind their historic rival. "This is precisely why I have a proposal to succeed in unblocking the situation."

    As he had finally obtained the curiosity he had expected, the Cardinal of Earth pondered whether to leave them on their toes a little bit before outlining his plan. He opted to be clear and concise.

    "An alliance."

    Silence.

    That one simple word, he was certain, had brought more upset than any speech he could have engaged in.

    The effigy of the Six Great Gods tilted slightly. Who could tell whether it was a sign of doom or a good omen?

    "With our army halved and General Bulgari engaged in the south, it will take us years before we can gain a modicum of stability," Gaius explained, as he pulled out some maps illustrating the edges of the Theocracy. "Leaving aside the Evasha Forest, we barely have enough troops to protect our frontiers. Our country has never been more vulnerable, and the Republic of Argland knows this well. There is no point in fooling ourselves; by now the news of our defeat will have reached all the neighboring nations."

    "I know," Raymond countered, sustaining the gaze of the Grand Marshal fixedly. "That is precisely why we will have to leverage our common goal and provide mutually beneficial terms."

    "You mean..."

    "That''s right, Berenice. Kill the elf king and end the slave trade."

    "Ridiculous." They all replied in unison. Only the Pontifex remained silent. The highest office of the Theocracy crossed his arms, pondering the issue before him. Raymond prayed that he was in favor, as his support would make it much easier to convince the others.

    "Think about it. Even if we were to continue with the slave trade, we still would not have the means to be able to carry it on without the troops in the forest. And now that we don''t even have an army to support, we can do without those extra funds."

    "The previous Cardinal, Carnesio, put these ideas in your head, didn''t he?" Posing the question was Ioannes himself. His small red eyes seemed to peer into the depths of Raymond''s heart.

    "I cannot deny that my predecessor and I discussed at length what the best course of action might be. I believe this is the choice that will prove most beneficial in the long run." Replied the former member of the black scriptures, trying to appear as confident as possible.

    "It will be difficult but I believe that from a legal point of view, it should not be impossible to reshape our laws to prohibit slavery," Maximilian, who had taken the floor for the first time since the beginning of the discussion, looked at the heads of the legislative and judicial sections who sat to his left and right respectively. After they had given their assent, he continued. "However, what on the plane of law may be justified does not always find correspondence in the souls of men."

    "After centuries of regarding elves as an inferior race, we cannot expect our citizens to change their minds overnight," Dominic interjected, still uncertain about the soundness of that proposal.

    "I realize it is a difficult challenge that lies ahead. But as leaders of the Theocracy, it is our duty to lay down sacrifices for the future of our sacred nation. The elves were once our allies, and while I realize it is optimistic to hope to mend fences, diminishing our enemies cannot be a bad choice. Not least because..." He was not sure if it was time to introduce that part of his speech. In truth, there was another reason why he wanted to end the conflicts with the elves.

    Berenice, noticing that something was troubling her fellow Cardinal, urged him to confide. "There is something you still have to report to us, isn''t there?"

    "Given the flurry of news that has caught us off guard the last few days, I have not yet had time to relay a report I received from Captain Nigun regarding the situation in the Draconic Kingdom," he took a moment to catch his breath. Raymond certainly did not want to make tempers even tenser, but it was his duty to report what was brought to his attention. "The alliance of our troops repelled the attack. But it seems that the Beastmen managed to eliminate the Dominion Authority we had provided to the Sunlight Scriptures."

    No one dared to comment. Producing one of those angels required an incalculable deployment of resources and the chances of success were slim. The loss was another blow dealt to their finances and morale.

    "It means that those demi-humans have such forces that they can eliminate one of our trump cards. What''s the expression? Trouble never comes alone." Commented the head of the magic branch, bewildered and worried that anyone could survive the Dominion Authority''s spells.

    "Do you have a plan for that too Raymond?"

    "For the time being I think it is desirable to send some members of the Black Scripture defense and wait for the situation to develop. Aeneas, the captain, should be able to eliminate any danger that could arise from the demihumans. We will also have to push the young emperor to provide more troops to the cause. If the Draconic Kingdom were to fall, then it would be up to the Baharut Empire to deal with this threat."

    Raymond had said all he had to say. Now all he could do was wait for the response of his peers. Decisions were made by mutual agreement, after all. Only once unanimity was achieved could they pursue their plans.

    "I support Raymond''s proposal." Berenice was the first to agree with him.

    "Me too."

    "Count me in agreement."

    One after another, all the other Cardinals, the Grand Marshal, and the department heads gave their assent to the plans outlined by the Scripture commander.

    Only the Pontifex had yet to give his opinion.

    "Raymond, are you sure of your decision?"

    "Quite sure. I don''t think there is any alternative."

    "You remind me of a young Carnesio. Ready to fight end to end for what he believes in." Ioannes muttered something between his teeth, the meaning of which, however, did not escape the Cardinal of Earth. "My friend, it seems that in the end you were right and I was wrong."

    "Okay," he continued. "Count me in agreement. But we must act with caution. To begin with, Maximilian, are you ready to take charge of the negotiations with Argland?"

    The Cardinal of Darkness adjusted his thick glasses, slightly embarrassed to be the center of attention.

    "Of course. If the others don''t mind leaving me in charge, I will form a diplomatic corps as quickly as possible," no one had anything to counter. "Perfect. I''d say we should get started as soon as possible."

    "Good," the Pontifex retook the word. "Cardinal Lauransan, take care of the division of Scripture. Grand Marshal, make use of Cardinals Partouche and Guelfi to recruit and train new soldiers. Cardinal Santini, and Cardinal Delacroix, you will help me understand how to convince the population to convert to the new ways. It will not be easy..." The elder''s wrinkles, a symbol of his experience and wisdom, furrowed on his forehead. "But we will succeed. It is the will of the Gods. And we will lend a small hand to fate."

    They took their leave, more ready than ever to fulfill their tasks.

    All for the good of the Theocracy.

    Upper Water Month, 10th day, 8.00

    "You have made up your mind, then. Your pick turned out to be Nekole''s armor."

    Antilene looked at her old master as she gently stroked the sacred equipment stored in the treasure room with her right arm. "My father uses an earth elemental, by all accounts. The Wind God''s armor will be perfect for protection against his attacks."

    "Don''t think that summoning is the only weapon at the king''s disposal. Don''t let arrogance lead you to make a fatal mistake." Condescension? No, genuine concern. Rufus, as detached as he was from anything that could have been called ''human,'' displayed attitudes typical of a worried old parent, unable to let his offspring take flight.

    "I know, I know," replied the half-elf, deep down delighted at the undead''s continued attention to her. "I have lived this encounter a thousand times in my mind. Every minutest detail has been explored to the best of my ability. I am ready."

    "In addition to the elf king, there are also the forest lords to face. And moving through that maze of trees will not be easy. You will have to have your guard up at all times to avoid nasty surprises."

    "I will be as careful as I have ever been in my life. You don''t need to worry. After all, I won''t be alone." Although Antilene had yet to be briefed on the composition of the team, Raymond warned her that she would not venture into Evasha Forest alone.

    Nevertheless, the girl had been adamant that there should be no interruptions during the confrontation with her father.

    To get rid of troublesome elves, however, a few extra hands would not have been entirely unwelcome.

    "I see," Rufus had accepted her answer. To be honest, Antilene still had no clear idea what the patron deity''s opinion on the matter was. She was an open book to him, but the reverse was not as true. "How do you feel?"

    It was ... strange.

    You wait your whole life for a certain moment to come. And when the time finally arrives, the only thing you can think is that it''s just a dream. A trick of the mind. Some jester''s prank done to your detriment.

    "I feel bewildered. I always thought that as soon as I was finally assigned to kill that monster I would burst with joy. That I would not be able to sleep from excitement. But instead..." Antilene felt slightly intimidated to show those feelings that she thought were unnatural. The fear of seeming ungrateful had been with her for the past couple of days, and she did not feel comfortable expressing those intimate emotions. But if there was anyone she could trust, it was certainly her old tutor. "I feel calm. It''s surreal. My body seemed to have abandoned all signs of disturbance. As if it had achieved an imperturbable inner balance."

    "And does that make you uncomfortable?" Rufus asked her, the sapphires in the mask he wore that day glowing bright cobalt.

    "All my life there has been anger growing inside me. Fueled by my mother''s hatred. I thought hers was a tough but sincere love. For the first years of my life, it was the only form of affection I knew. Avenging her broken honor was my only duty, my life''s meaning." The Black Scripture ace ran a hand over her lips, which were beginning to moisten slightly. "Who am I doing all this for? For my mother? For the Theocracy? For myself? I think that after killing my father I will finally be able to find the answer I have been searching for so long. And that scares me, I won''t lie. But at the same time, it''s exciting to know what the future holds for me. Maybe I will finally be able to see the dawn of a new day with different eyes."

    It was just the two of them in the room. The world seemed to have shrunk to those four walls. The sacred items of the Six Gods their only company.

    "Remember what you said when you discovered your talent?" Rufus unlocked a memory for her. How many years had passed? One hundred and thirty? One hundred and forty? By now she had lost count.

    "That now killing my father would not be impossible." Antilene still had vivid thoughts in her mind about the first time she had discovered her amazing talent that granted the ability to use [The Goal of All Life is Death] and all the other skills of the Gods. How happy she had been that day. Perhaps one of the most cherished memories of a sad childhood.

    "Before that."

    The half-elf didn''t understand. What was her old master referring to? She returned with her memory to that day, but found nothing interesting.

    "You really don''t remember?" He urged her. But no matter how hard she tried, there was a void in her head.

    "I certainly can''t say I know what you''re talking about." The half-elf quickly shook her head, to show her confusion.

    "You apologized because you thought you had caused some disaster." Explained the first disciple of Surshana.

    "Oh..." Was that the case? Her mind had made a clean slate of the matter. "I can''t understand what you are trying to say, though."

    Rufus went into his personal library, only to return with a small journal in his hand.

    "A frightened, perpetually sad-looking child, who fails to make treasure of the gifts bestowed upon her. That was my first impression of you."

    Antilene was seized with emotion, thinking back to her former self.

    "Your mother was my greatest failure," Rufus confessed. He seemed to have lifted a weight that had gripped him since time immemorial. "I consider each of you Godkin the most precious legacy left to me by my creators. But towards your mother, I was never able to alleviate the suffering she carried in her heart. If I had acted differently perhaps, she would have been able to find the longed-for peace. And you ... would have some sweeter memories to carry in your heart."

    Was that what was bothering him?

    "Not true. If you hadn''t been there, I wouldn''t have... I could not have asked for a better teacher." She smiled at him, hoping that that awkward gesture was enough to bring relief to his soul. Could the undead feel sadness and regret? After all those years she still could not give herself a satisfactory answer. But she liked to believe that the answer was positive. "A world without having met you would have been far less interesting and fun."

    The girl laid her gaze on the object in her hands. "Is that my mother''s biography you wrote?"

    "No, not really," the undead opened the pages of the manuscript, to show them to Antilene. "This is a rare heirloom. It''s the diaries of one of the first followers of the Six Great Gods. Elisa was her name. It contains many notes and impressions about the early periods of the birth of the Theocracy. I think it is time for you to read it. That way, when it is all over, you can make your decision with knowledge of what the history of this nation and its people truly is."

    "Why now? I have studied the history of the Theocracy and the Gods to death." Her eyebrows could not help but rise in confusion. "What does it say here that I don''t already know?"

    "For starters," Rufus placed the book in the half-elf''s hands, taking care not to crease it. It must have been very valuable, judging by the care with which he handled it. "Having a way to keep your mind distracted for the long journey ahead can''t hurt. Rest is important, too. Besides..." he hesitated. It was rare not to see him confident. "At the time I was not very interested in the affairs of mankind. I think observing the efforts of your peers back in the day might help you when the time comes."

    "The time for what?"

    "To make your choice."

    "Choice?"

    "The one you will have to make once you have completed your revenge."

    "... Thank you." Antilene had put off that moment until now. But once he had completed her task, the debt she owed to the Theocracy would be repaid. And then she would have to decide whether to return to her task as guardian of humanity or to take a new path, a different one. "Rufus. I... I don''t want to disappoint you."

    "Antilene," he embraced her. He had never been the first to initiate physical contact. "Whatever your decision is, I will respect it. Just come back safe and sound. My child."

    "I will... Dad!"

    Place: ?

    Time: ?

    Granz Loker was finally home. Her studio was the only place where she truly felt at home. She could get lost for days on end studying magic scrolls collected from every corner of the globe, conducting experiments to invent new magic, and savoring the taste of success after countless attempts.

    After all, when one is an undead with an infinite lifespan, time loses all meaning.

    And she needed to lose herself for months-maybe even years-in her research. After all that time spent in the outside world, the abandoned city that served as her domain was the oasis of peace she sought.

    ''It should all be on its way by now. We will soon be able to take a closer look at how Kunivela was defeated.''

    Members of Corpus of the Abyss tended to avoid attracting too much attention, unlike the other three night liches who had decided to reveal themselves to the outside world of mortals.

    This was because, above hating the living, what interested the members of the secret organization was progressing with their study of magic.

    The disappearance of one of their most distinguished members had been the catalyst that ended their differences and led to a new beginning based on collaboration to achieve their goals, more than a century ago.

    Shedding light on Kunivela''s death was not a way to satisfy a foolish thirst for revenge. It was just a way to be able to peer even deeper into the depths of magic.

    "Your Lordship Loker," one of her guards distracted her from her thoughts, entering the room with a concerned air. "Sorry to disturb you."

    "No worry," she had no problem being lenient with her subordinates. And although she was irritated by that disturbance, the woman was aware that a particular reason had prompted that wight to act. "What''s bothering you so much?"

    The living had trouble understanding the emotions that gripped the undead. But to her, it was child''s play. All she had to do was pay attention to the aura they gave off. The smell was unmistakable.

    "A summons has come from The Abyss. He requests your presence as soon as possible."

    "I understand." Her plans would have to wait. A pity. But duty took precedence. "I will teleport as soon as possible. You may go. You already know how to behave in my absence."

    "Yes, ma''am. Leave everything in our hands."

    Seeing him leave, Granz reflected on how lucky she had been to have found such efficient subordinates. Not having to worry about the administration of her small kingdom when she was away made everything easier.

    With [Teleport] magic, it did not take her long to reach her destination. It was a castle located in a secret place, the existence of which was known only to a select few. Death traps made it virtually impossible for outsiders to approach.

    Arriving at the entrance, it did not take her long to notice that something was strange.

    For starters, there was an eerie silence. Not that the place usually teemed with deafening noises, but the servants of their host, Benezeri Anches, used to at least pay some homage to their guests.

    Also, the guards. The garrison, usually manned by numerous high-level undead creatures, was completely unmanned.

    Inside the Palace, the situation was no different. Was she the only one of the members who had arrived? Usually, Granz was one of the last, but the other members did not seem to have preceded her this time.

    Even Benezeri, The Abyss, the one who had organized the meeting, seemed to have vanished.

    ''Okay, this is ridiculous. How is it possible that no one is here?''

    She continued to wander the corridors of the building, continuing to be uneasy. A living person would have found discouragement in thinking that in those dark corners, one might find a specter or wraith ready to attack them. Granz found, on the other hand, disquiet in being completely alone.

    ''A trap? Perhaps Benezeri wants to take over my research. Should I go back? When I return, I may find my territory completely ransacked.''

    When the unliving woman had now made up her mind to go back, she popped up in what might have been called the throne room of the old palace.

    Large and spacious, it could have accommodated hundreds of people without any problems. In ancient times it had probably been the scene of lavish receptions where nobility and kings met to exchange knowledge and strengthen their ties.

    Now it was just a dark place where cobwebs had found the perfect environment to thrive. It was not the first time Granz had been to that place, as it was the area usually reserved for their meetings.

    To her relief, as she entered, she saw that her colleagues were waiting for her in the center of the room, seated on either side of a long round table.

    "Finally," she said heartately. "I thought you were making fun of me."

    No response came.

    "Hey, are you okay?" She called attention by raising her voice, but Benezeri and the others continued to pretend not to notice her. It was starting to be annoying.

    "If you don''t want to answer me, it will mean that..."

    "Welcome, Granz Loker!"

    It was then that she realized that the other Corpus members were not ignoring her out of some silly whim, but because they could not do otherwise.

    A pair of violet eyes, shining like amethysts, peered at her in the shadows behind the old throne. An odor she knew too well tickled her nostrils.

    Judging by the height from which they stared at her, the body of the mysterious interlocutor must have been very tall. But the undead enchantress could make out no other details, for the obscurity of the room prevented her from getting an accurate view.

    ''This darkness is not natural, is it the aid of some magic? Perhaps I can try to dispel it.''

    Granz tried casting a spell to make light, but it was at that moment that she realized she was completely paralyzed.

    "What on earth have you done to me?" A paralysis spell? To be able to counter all her protections would have required a spell so strong to defy common sense. ''Only a ninth-tier spell could do that to me. Could it be that this mysterious assailant was able to reach it? Or... that it is not tier magic at all?''

    "No need to worry," the voice was deep, mellifluous. Free of imperfections or accents. "I don''t want to hurt you. Your comrades have already agreed to become part of my dependencies. Only you are missing now."

    ''I wonder how willingly they agreed to become your subordinates, monster!'' Not much, judging by their lack of reaction.

    "What makes you think I will agree to work for you?"

    "... I have been watching you for some time. We have a common goal, although you wouldn''t know it." A pause. That he was testing a possible reaction from her? "Those I want to kill have ended up in your sights, and as furious as it makes me admit it, I need your help if I am to triumph."

    "So, you are also interested in the girl and her father. But why?" Leaving aside how that voice shrouded in mystery could know of the existence of what must have been a secret that only a few knew, what was his motivation for doing all this?

    "That is a secret I cannot reveal but," the voice became more wrathful and filled with hatred. "There is a very important reason why they must die."

    Revenge? Judging by the emotions the being was displaying it was plausible. But it did not seem to be the only reason.

    "We don''t want to kill them. Only to study them. What makes you think our interests align?" She didn''t care that much, but she had to stall while she found a way to free herself.

    Her body was still not listening to her input, but with enough time she would find a countermove. She was one of the most skilled spellcasters in the world, and there was no magic she couldn''t counter.

    "Oh, it''s simple," she felt those deep violet eyes peering closer and closer at her as the darkness of the room continued to advance. "If you won''t do it, I''ll have to use more... persuasive."

    Only when the room was completely enveloped in darkness could the woman finally give the figure an outline. And when Granz realized what she was facing she screamed, for there was nothing else left for her to do.

 Chapter 22: Compromise

    Chapter 22

    Compromise

    Upper Water Month, 14th day, 17.00

    "Sir, is everything okay?"

    No, actually the flood of thoughts that gripped Maximilian''s mind did anything but put him at ease.

    "Yes, I was just going over some documents. Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Lobato."

    His bodyguard lowered the head in reverence. Even in complete calm, he was always alert and snappy, ready for action. A quality to be commended.

    The carriage where the Cardinal and his entourage were located was spacious enough for him to recheck the papers and writings he carried with him without particular trouble. Maximilian doubted that rereading old rulings would benefit the task at hand, but caution was never too much.

    "Re-Estize has changed. It no longer looks like the old decadent capital I remembered."

    It had been years since the last time the Cardinal of Darkness had set foot in the region, but he could hardly say he was impressed. The number of bandits who had attacked them over the course of the trip was highly disheartening.

    What a waste of lives... Always a shame to spill the blood of fellow humans. Well, for Lobato and the members of Ashendust Scripture it had to be even worse. Needing to call on members of the guardians of their sacred oasis showed how understaffed they were.

    "They say that the Golden Princess'' reforms have been very favorable to the people. Discontent has diminished in recent years, although we are not yet certain that a new administration is not to be preferred."

    "The Empire continues to have expansionist aims toward these territories. And now that their warrior captain has abandoned the capital, the Kingdom seems to lack an adequate military force to repel any assaults. How much longer can they hold out? A couple of years? Maybe a luster."

    "Perhaps longer. Some of the most influential nobles are receiving some funding from the Council State. Personal armies equal to the legions of the empire may arise in the future, time permitting."

    Maximilian listened to his assistants'' remarks, not giving them too much weight. At the moment, the fate of the Re-Estize Kingdom was not among their priorities.

    He would have preferred to conduct the negotiations in a different place, but the Argland delegation had been adamant about choosing a neutral territory in order to begin their meetings.

    "Do we know the exact location where we are heading?" One of the guards who were in the compartment of the carriage with them asked.

    "It seems that one of the nobles of the Kingdom has made available one of his mansions just outside the capital," replied the Cardinal, still with his eyes turned to his papers. "We will settle in the Fire Cathedral in the capital, and then head in the evening to our destination."

    "Officially we are here on a religious visitation, aren''t we?" His secretary observed, pulling some old religious books out of a shoulder bag. "We will try to mend fences between our faiths. Or at least that is what the king and the other nobles believe. Although I didn''t think the bishops of the Four Gods would so easily agree to cover our tracks."

    "Surely they are under the payroll of one of the great nobles, or perhaps even a member of the royal family," Maximilian replied, disappointed by his collaborator''s naivet¨¦. "It is, therefore, categorical to leak as little information as possible. Do not be afraid to perjure if you believe you are being spied on."

    "Your Holiness, do you think that is possible? They still remain devoted defenders of humanity like us, differences aside."

    "I am sure of it. After all," a sardonic smile broke out on the man''s face. "That''s what I would do."

    The Cathedral dedicated to the Fire God -the religion of the Four made no distinction between the sex of the Gods, unlike the faith of the Six- was an imposing and opulent building, contrasting with the other, simpler structures in the neighborhood in which it stood.

    "Welcome," a short, plump man with small, round, intelligent eyes greeted them. "I am Gael. I hope the trip has not caused any problems. We are pleased to host such an important personality as you, Cardinal Maximilian."

    Judging by the clothes he wore, and the procession of servants awaiting his orders, it must have been the bishop in charge of receiving them.

    "The pleasure is all ours," replied the man from the Theocracy, trying to peer into his host''s intentions. He did not seem particularly dangerous but, as is known, appearances can be deceiving. "I mean no offense, but the journey was long. My men and I would prefer to retire to our rooms if you don''t mind."

    "Of course, of course." Fortunately, the little man did not seem to be offended by their attitude. "My deacons will lead you to the places we have assigned to you. If you would be so kind as to follow them."

    The accommodations that were provided to them were not particularly comfortable, but they were more than enough for the time being. Maximilian did not count on staying more than a few days. He hoped to finish as quickly as possible and hurry home.

    "What time is our appointment, Your Holiness?" Lobato asked, intent on inspecting their assigned room. Excessive caution, perhaps. But it was a quality Maximilian appreciated in a bodyguard.

    "In a few hours. I don''t think we''ll have to wait long. Take advantage of this time to rest. We cannot be found unprepared."

    No one was even remotely touched by the idea of contradicting him. The journey had been exhausting for everyone, and those moments of calm and rest were savored with relish.

    But the best moments tend to pass quickly. The sun had not yet finished setting, that one of the Cathedral deacons came to warn them that the time had come for departure.

    "Lobato, you and your men always be on guard. But do not utter a breath without an order from me."

    "Yes, your holiness!"

    "You," he said, addressing his secretaries. "Do not speak without my permission. Have you checked that you have taken all the necessary documents?"

    "Yes, your holiness!"

    After the recommendations were finished, they were able to leave. Fortunately, it did not take them long.

    When they arrived, the moon was shining high in the starry sky. The mansion that served as cover was more modest than the Cardinal had expected. Maximilian was not a fan of pomp and circumstance, but from one of the infamous six great nobles, he would have expected more ostentatious pageantry. He did not know whether to be positively amazed or deeply disappointed.

    Either way, that was a welcome day. At the entrance, a slender, inquiring-looking man engaged in the same pleasantries they had received from Gael in the Fire Cathedral only a few hours earlier.

    "I hope you don''t mind, but my master preferred to remain anonymous. It will be only you and the gentlemen of Argland Council State who will be present tonight, besides me that is." Explained the butler with precision. "Should you need anything, you will find me in the kitchens. My name is Calcano."

    Maximilian knew who the mysterious master -or perhaps it would have been better to say, count- was. But he saw no reason to dispel that illusion of secrecy.

    "I thank you," the Cardinal merely replied. "Are we the first ones here?"

    "No. The Council State committees are waiting in one of the upper rooms. Come, let me accompany you."

    The small group climbed the stairs and entered a large, unexpectedly spartan hall. A long table in the center, on which were resting lamps emitting a warm fire, was the only decoration along with some shelves placed in the sides.

    As he had already reported, Calcano some figures were already seated in their seats. As soon as Maximilian saw the one who appeared to be the leader, he could not help but refrain from cursing his opponents in his mind.

    ''Of course, they would have sent one of them. What should I have expected?''

    "You must be Cardinal Maximilian, I presume." A long, sharp hand was offered to the Slaine man as a token of friendship. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Giltho Kana. Representative of the elves of the Council State of Argland. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

    "The pleasure is all mine." Maximilian reciprocated the gesture, gazing fixedly into his counterpart''s green eyes, taking the utmost care not to fix his view too much on the pair of pointed ears that towered from the man''s youthful face. "Let''s not waste time, shall we?"

    Sitting down at the table with his assistants, the Theocracy jurist noticed that accompanying the elf were several hooded figures. Of course, they had not been the only ones taking precautions, not that he had expected otherwise. One, in particular, caught his attention, given its petite size.

    "You know why we requested this meeting, don''t you?" The jurist thought it was best to start the discussion as soon as possible, without getting lost in idle chatter.

    "I don''t. You tell me." The smirk that hung on Giltho''s lips provoked a fit of irritation that was hardly kept at bay by the Cardinal.

    Maximilian noticed that Lobato had his right hand on his sword, as if he was going to draw it at any moment.

    "I advise you to stand still," said the small hooded guard, a little girl judging by her voice, noted earlier. A mask entirely covering her face was now visible. "You wouldn''t want to go home with a few more holes in your body, would you?"

    "Come on, come on. No need to get carried away, Evileye," the elf soothed her, without losing his good humor. "I know you care for my safety, and for that I am grateful. But I''m sure our dear friends in the Theocracy have no intention of starting trouble, am I right?"

    Maximilian would have expected anything but to be treated cordially by a long-eared. Would it have made the negotiations easier or more difficult? Still no clear idea in his mind.

    "Yes, I agree."

    "Then we can continue. Actually, would you like some wine? We have a bottle from the former Empire of Sorsilia that is excellent. A refugee friend of mine offered it to me as a gift when he was my guest. I can vouch for its quality!"

    "One glass certainly can''t hurt." As soon as the answer was given, another of Argland''s soldiers handed over a pair of glasses pulled from one of the shelves, along with a bottle of red wine.

    As the drink was poured for him, the Cardinal noticed the skin on the bodyguard''s hands. Yellow, with some black stripes forming a striated pattern.

    ''That there is not a single human being among their delegation? Perhaps a way to taunt us.''

    In any case, he could not let his prejudices risk blowing up the negotiations. Maximilian accepted the wine, which he drank with gusto. He had to admit, it was truly exceptional.

    "Very good indeed." Giltho seemed to appreciate the compliment, although he continued to be silent, waiting for the Cardinal''s reply.

    "The Theocracy would like to review the non-aggression treaties made in the past and amend them," he began, scrutinizing his interlocutor for any reaction. When the jurist realized that it would not come, he continued. "In fact, we would like to propose a military alliance to dispose of a common enemy."

    "Oh, who are you talking about?" The elf asked, showing false curiosity. No doubt, the target was known to him.

    "The king of the elves. Decem Hougan." Maximilian replied, pretending that his opponent''s question was genuine.

    "Interesting. But, correct me if I''m wrong, in a military alliance both sides should be able to provide the¡­ let''s call it raw material. And it seems to me that you are currently rather lacking in that."

    A lump in the throat. The jurist knew they were starting from a disadvantageous position, but he did not think they would be so forthright in pointing it out.

    "This I can guarantee is not a problem. In truth, we are more than confident that we can deal with our enemy on our own as well. But we need guarantees to avoid ... disturbances during our campaign."

    If they were going to be honest, they might as well do it all the way. Attempting to distort their intentions would prove counterproductive. Everyone in that room knew about the Black Scriptures, and everyone was aware that the Theocracy was willing to use them to get rid of their nemesis. The question then was "How would The Argland Council State react?"

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Finding out was the key part of his mission.

    "Let''s suppose you are telling the truth. What will we gain, besides the death of a common enemy? It seems to me that your conditions are rather lacking." That mocking expression continued to irritate Maximilian, but he could not blame the elf. What they were offering at the moment was not very advantageous for a nation that could count on the protection of the Dragon Emperor''s son.

    ''They didn''t send him here just because he is an elf and they wanted to anger me. He is the representative of the entire skeptical faction to a future alliance. If I can convince him, we will have much less resistance than expected.''

    Licking his lips, on which the taste of wine had pivoted, he retorted, "We don''t offer just that, of course. In addition to leaving your people freer range in the human nations of the region, we also bring an offer of peace."

    "Meaning?"

    "The end of slavery and the complete liberation of every elf in the territory of the Slaine Theocracy, as well as the end of slave markets."

    That statement must have struck a deep chord, because everyone stood still, dismayed, for a few seconds. Even Giltho had taken on a more serious expression.

    "Human," the elf had dropped all masks of friendliness. "Are you joking? Because it''s not funny. I don''t believe you. The costs you would face would be incalculable. Besides, who can assure me that what you say is true?"

    "Each of the Cardinals, including the Pontifex, is willing to sign a magical contract that would result in death if not fulfilled." To do so they would have to resort to fifth-tier magic. The Theocracy would have no problem with that, and the Cardinals were confident that the sorcerers of Argland might be capable of as much.

    Giltho stood up. He began to unbutton the silk shirt he was wearing, resting it in the hands of one of his staff. "Thank you Gagaran."

    Then he turned around, showing his back to the men of the Slaine Theocracy.

    The whiplash marks were evident. Not even the smallest area of skin had been left uncovered.

    "I was a slave for a couple of years before I decided to free myself and kill my master. By now this goes back more than seventy years, but as you can also see, I decided to leave the marks of that time on my body." He put his shirt back as he returned to his seat. "As a reminder. I didn''t want to forget what was done to me. What you did to me."

    Neither Maximilian nor any other member of his entourage dared to say anything. The Cardinal had seen in the span of his life far worse spectacles than the one just shown him, but he felt it was not appropriate to point this out to his interlocutor.

    "My apologies."

    "How old are you, human? Fifty? Sixty?" The elf asked him.

    "Fifty-seven." He replied, adjusting his glasses that were beginning to fall back on his nose.

    "You humans cannot comprehend... I am three hundred and forty-four. The war began when I was already a man, having spent years considering humans as inseparable comrades. I fought countless wars together with members of your kind, to protect an ideal I thought was shared." The taste of memories was beginning to set in. He rubbed his eyes, which were beginning to water. "And then, overnight, I found myself thrown into a conflict I could not understand. I had to kill those I considered friends. I was betrayed, I was captured, and I had to leave my home to make a new life for myself!"

    A drop of sweat on the Cardinal''s forehead was the only reaction the elf got. Did he expect more?

    "Representative Giltho. We are politicians, not actors. It is not in our interest to put on a show." Maximilian tried to calm him down. "Humans have also suffered greatly from the king''s betrayal."

    At his last words, Giltho''s guards and Lobato''s men moved in unison, ready to give battle. Maximilian realized he had said one word too many. He would have preferred to avoid it, but he was ready to cast a spell if it helped.

    "Enough." Unexpectedly, it was the elf who nipped hostilities in the bud. "We are not here to fight. The cardinal is right. I got carried away by my emotions. I will be honest. I don''t like you."

    "The feeling is mutual."

    "But..." the Argland man heaved a deep sigh. "The chance to save my suffering brothers and sisters could never happen again. So, in spite of myself, I am forced to accept."

    "I''m glad you can see it the right way."

    "Mind you, this does not mean that we have an agreement. There are endless details to review and I continue to respond to the Argland Parliament in its entirety."

    It was a start at least. Maximilian could say he was satisfied.

    "Tell me, in absolute confidence, do you actually have a way to kill the elf king?"

    "We have something, yes." The Cardinal tried to remain vague; he could not yet trust completely. "I''m sorry, I can''t say more."

    "That will be enough." The elf''s face contracted into a grimace as his ears waved in a funny motion. "Being able to see that bastard dead might also justify an alliance with you."

    Upper water month, 15th day, 8.00

    "Is everything all right?"

    Gazef brooded for a moment before giving an answer. "I think I could be better, but all in all I''m not complaining."

    Although weeks had passed since the siege, and his body had fully recovered, he still felt mental fatigue gripping him.

    "The queen is waiting for us. Try to show yourself as proud and mighty as the hero you are."

    Had he truly been a hero? Gazef was not so convinced. In the end, those who had brought victory had been Nigun and his men. The same men who had preferred not to be rewarded that day, deeming it more prudent to continue to remain in the shadows.

    "Leaving such nonsense aside, how is your arm, Cerabrate?"

    The Holy Knight twirled the limb in question, showing that it was fully functional. "It hurt like hell at first, but now it''s perfectly fine."

    "I''m glad of that," Gazef replied with a friendly smile. They had lost many valiant soldiers recently, and seeing a fellow comrade recover from his wounds brought relief to his soul. "Are you alone today? Lilianne and Imilcone are not with you?"

    "Imilcone still needs to fully recover from the effects of the resurrection, and Lilianne has decided to stay with him."

    The arcane caster of Crystal Tear had only managed to come back to life through a ritual performed in the Theocracy and, return trip included, still felt weakened. It was not strange that his companion had decided to stay by his side, avoiding what was a ceremony that Gazef could not quite understand the point of.

    Or rather, he did understand it. A victory was still a victory, even if the number of casualties had been so high that he wondered if the price paid had justified the outcome. And the demi-humans did not seem defeated at all, far from it. They had managed to push them back for the time being, but soon they would return. And this time they would not be able to count on the surprise effect to triumph.

    Still ... on the other hand, celebrating success was the perfect way to keep morale high. And the Gods knew how much they needed it at that moment.

    "Aren''t you worried? About what happened in the forest of Evasha, I mean."

    The rout against the elves had reached his ears as well. He was not a natural citizen of the Theocracy. As atrocious as it had been to think so, for many of his people the 100-year conflict had achieved almost a cultural value. It was a truth that was unlikely to be challenged. But now¡­

    "I don''t know," he answered truthfully. "I certainly take no pleasure in knowing that so many brave men and women died. But I feel it as something distant, which does not concern me. Perhaps I have spent too much time in this kingdom."

    "I wish I had your cold blood. Sometimes I think I get too emotional. A quality a leader should keep at bay."

    "I''m not as special as you think," a slight blush colored the former mercenary''s cheeks. "I just try to take an objective view of the situations that come before me."

    "Maybe..." The adventurer was unconvinced but decided not to press the matter further. "Now, come. It''s our turn. The queen is waiting for us."

    Upon entering the throne room, Gazef was reassured to find that nothing had changed. The same painting depicting the nation''s founding dragon continued to observe him from the center of the room, but this time his gaze did not penetrate the Slain captain''s defenses.

    "You are in the presence of Queen Draudillon Oriculus!" Announced the ringing voice of the prime minister. "Please pay your respects!"

    Gazef did not let it be repeated twice. His body found it natural to bow as if it were a gesture he had honed since he was a child. Curious how quickly the things that make us most uncomfortable can turn out to be simple with only a little practice

    "Please, stand up!" The queen''s voice was as usual firm but also understanding. Yes, even though he had met her only a couple of times, Gazef could be convinced in thinking she was a good ruler.

    This time the queen had decided to welcome them in her adult form. Cerabrate seemed disappointed; perhaps he had expected a more lavish welcome. Instead, it was just the four of them in the room plus the jade guards.

    "Your majesty," did not matter. Gazef preferred that more intimate atmosphere. He would have hated a ball or some other strange reception typical of nobles. "Let me thank you for summoning us. To be in your presence is an honor for simple villagers like us!"

    "No, it is I who should thank you," the woman replied sincerely. Yes, she was quite different from the nobility Gazef was used to. "General Barca informed me of your valiant resistance. The nation is indebted to you. I only regret that I have no way to properly reward you."

    "Don''t even say that!" Cerabrate sounded unexpectedly enthusiastic. "Your gratitude is all we could ever require from you! Just knowing that I can bask in your smile is more than enough to motivate me to fight! My queen, every sword of mine is always at your disposal!"

    "T... thank you." Queen Draudillon looked embarrassed. Perhaps because she did not feel she deserved those praises? Or possibly because of something else?

    Gazef had to admit that there was something about it... off. Not that he was an expert in matters of the heart, and perhaps he had misunderstood what were merely phrases of affection, but there was a vaguely...disturbing subtext to his companion''s words.

    "...In any case," the woman resumed. No, there was definitely something bothering her given the irritation she was struggling to hide. Gazef cursed himself for not being able to quickly grasp others'' emotions. "I want you to pass on every possible request of yours to my prime minister. I don''t want to promise anything, but I give you my word that we will do everything to fulfill it."

    There was nothing the former mercenary wished for. But he knew that many of his men had small requests that seeing fulfilled would benefit them. So, he began to write down everything he could remember on the parchment the prime minister offered him.

    Cerabrate, on the other hand, continued to stand still, watching the queen. If it were not impossible, Gazef would have sworn he was annoyed about something. But what? Try as he might, he could not give himself a concrete answer.

    "Okay, I''m done," he said, passing the pen back into the official''s hands. "I think my demands are reasonable."

    Magone, the prime minister, took a quick look, muttering in a low voice. "Prayer books, some local food of the Theocracy, equipment, and specific magical items. Yes, it will take some time, but it should be doable."

    "Perfect," good news at last. Seeing his unit happy would make him happy, too. "Now I''d say we can go. I don''t want to waste any more of her majesty''s time."

    "Oh, don''t worry Sir Stronoff," Queen Draudillon had heard his words and rushed to reassure him. "I am always delighted to receive a hero like you and ... Cerabrate. I could never consider it a waste of time!"

    Gazef bowed, not knowing what to say. The former mercenary hoped that gesture was enough to show his appreciation for the consideration given.

    When her guests had left, Queen Draudillon could finally relax.

    "Did you see the way that pervert was looking at me?" She asked Magone. "If I hadn''t returned to my adult form, he would have jumped on me. How disgusting!"

    "Would you rather not see him live again, your majesty?"

    "Nono. People might start to get suspicious if we no longer celebrated the national hero," but did such an individual have to be the national hero? The ruler of the Draconic Kingdom could not help but wonder if some past life of hers had committed some grave sin to have deserved such a headache. "As much as it pains me to admit it, he is our most valuable asset at the moment. So, we''ll hold up the game as long as it lasts."

    "What if he asks for more than just attention?"

    The very thought made the queen shudder. No, better not to think about it too much also because they both knew the answer.

    "To change the subject, the Theocracy is also having a hard time. I never thought an army of fanatics could end up like that." The first time she had heard the reports of that battle, Draudillon had thought it had been a prank. Or an elaborate plan by some enemy of the Theocracy in order to discredit it in the eyes of international viewers. However, it was all true.

    "Maybe it''s all a set-up by the Cardinals," the prime minister speculated. But he did not seem very convinced. "A way to justify non-intervention in the future."

    "But for what purpose? Besides, didn''t they just inform us that a special unit would soon arrive to defend us against the Beastmen?" No, the debacle had to be true. The fact that they could not accept it easily only showed how high confidence was in the Theocracy''s war capabilities. "This will have to be a lesson to us. We cannot continue to rely on outside help to safeguard us."

    "I completely agree, my queen." Magone handed her more papers to fill out. As endless as the problems to be addressed. The queen steeled herself, knowing that everything she did for her subjects was enough to make her find new vigor.

    "If only the threat were over. Or at least stopped long enough to get us on our feet. A miracle would be welcome at this time."

    "Perhaps your progenitor will return one of these days, ending the war. After all, this kingdom is his creation."

    "It would have been more likely for the demi-humans to surrender and beg us to become our slaves." She retorted to that utterly ridiculous hope. "I haven''t heard from him since I was a child. The last thing he said to me before he disappeared forever was ''Goodbye, little lizard. I leave this kingdom in your hands. A more important task awaits me. A task on which even your future may depend.'' And then poof, he took flight."

    The relationship with her great-grandfather could hardly have been called ''loving'' by human standards. But Draudillon knew that a small complicity had been established, during her ''training years.'' She also knew that wishing for his help was foolish. Dragons -true dragons like the Brightness Dragon Lord- did not care about silly social constructs like family.

    The queen looked at the portrait that towered above her throne. She felt so small in comparison.

    ''What are you doing now, great-grandfather? Would you be proud to see how I protect your heritage?''

    "Is everything all right, your majesty?"

    Draudillon lied. "Yes, everything is perfect."

    And then she returned to her work.

    Upper Water Month, 22nd day, 8.00

    "So, this is Evansha Forest." Antilene thought about what would be the most appropriate emotion to describe her state of mind. Euphoria? Joy? Disappointment?

    She would have expected a welcoming committee. Perhaps an army sent by her father as a warm greeting. Instead, nothing.

    Trees, trees, and more trees silhouetted on the horizon like drops in the sea.

    "I don''t know, I would have expected a little more attention." He looked at Charon''s Guidance, which he clutched tightly in his hands. "My friend might get bored if I don''t let her get some exercise right away."

    "We are just at the beginning of our ''outing''." Said Black Scripture''s second seat, Saturn Deuxi¨¨me Ensiculus, also known as Time Turbolence. "To get to the capital of the elf kingdom, proceeding at a normal pace could take us weeks. We will have time to be able to stretch, Lady Zesshi."

    Antilene looked at the little guy; he was right. The excitement was making her impatient, but just a little longer and it would all be over.

    "So," she asked, addressing the other Black Scripture members present. "What''s the plan? Let''s keep going until we get to Crescent Lake and then..." an arrow hit her bare cheek. The tip snapped upon contact with her skin. "Excuse me."

    "About forty meters southwest..." Cassandra Delphic Sibyl, One Thousand League Astrologer, did not finish speaking when she saw only a cloud of smoke come to life from where the half-elf had been standing just seconds before.

    "So much dust..." Another of the women in the group, also known as Divine Chant, complained. "Was it really necessary for us to come too?"

    "If things were to become dangerous, we should be prepared to sacrifice ourselves to allow Lady Zesshi to escape, Elena." An imposing man, as solid as the shields he wielded, took up a battle stance. Cedran Talos Michael, also known as Myriad Barriers for his impenetrable defense.

    Not that there was any need. Antilene returned in a flash, carrying a pair of stunned elves in her arms.

    "Okay," a smirk that elicited dismay in the faces of those present curved into her mouth. "Just these two. I don''t think they know much, but one can never be too careful."

    "L-Lady Zesshi," a sleepy-looking woman with long blue hair interjected. Her submissive tone slightly irritated the half-elf, who struggled not to take her back for her behavior unbecoming of a member of the Black Scriptures. "Are you s-sure you didn''t kill them?"

    "Don''t worry, Infinite Magic." The girl handed the two stunned bodies to the last member of the small group. Edgar Kukuhu Beaumarchais, recognizable by the chain he always carried. "You of all people should know that I can calibrate my strength perfectly."

    "Y-Yes."

    "It''s odd anyway," Saturnus brooded. "What were these two doing around here? That they knew where we were coming from?"

    "I don''t think so," replied Antilene, as she slipped on her armor helmet. "Simply, now that they thought humans were no longer in the area, they tried to get into areas of the forest they previously avoided. And they were lucky enough to encounter us."

    "Why attack us, then?" Cedran asked, returning to a more relaxed position. "They could have tried to avoid us or run away."

    "Rancor," the half-elf explained, with an unusual schoolmarm air. "They thought they had finally managed to get rid of the humans, but unfortunately they were wrong."

    She could almost feel pity for those elves. Surely living under her father could not have been easy. But at least they would soon be free.

 Chapter 23: King of Honor

    Chapter 23

    King of Honor

    Some time ago

    The valiant warrior stopped at the palace gates. The two nevayuu on guard unsheathed their spears, thinking he was an intruder, except to quickly retract them when they realized who he was.

    "The Warrior King has returned!" They said in unison, as they made room for him to pass. "Go ahead. The Negus is waiting for you."

    Quaabiil hesitated for a moment before deciding to cross the threshold of the immense gateway. As he entered the turmoil of the hall ceased. All the officials began to lavish him with honors and deference, giving rise to an infuriating hovel.

    "He is the Warrior King. The Warrior King is back!"

    "The hero of the Battle of the Screaming Ditches is here. Let us welcome him with the courtesy befitting a person of his rank!"

    Shouts and cheers of felicitation began to accompany his every move. Quaabiil, from the height of his six feet -impressive number even for a nevayuu like him-, was definitely uncomfortable with all those compliments. After all, no good news was bought that day.

    "I must see the Negus as soon as possible," the utmost good manners he could convey with his voice as powerful as thunder interrupted the other people in the room. "No need to waste time on silly pleasantries!"

    Taking the utmost care, he shook off the crowd that had thronged in his vicinity. The cloak that gently descended from his shoulders was in the way, and he would much rather have taken it off. But to remain alone in battle armor would have been unseemly in such a place. Etiquette, what a hassle.

    ''Some delegates from the Trotalaibr Oligarchy? I don''t recognize many of the faces here. Damn, I should have been more careful to memorize the various emissaries of the tribes before my expedition.''

    Quaabiil had been missing from the capital for months now, and it was not inconceivable that some new faces had come to the palace. Worrying perhaps was a sign of his growing paranoia, but he could not help it.

    Trying not to let those bad thoughts dominate him, undertaking more impervious of many of the battles that were fought in his life, he finally arrived at the throne room.

    It was ... different from how the Warrior King remembered it. Before, there was only a wooden throne and some decorations of very poor taste. Now, however, tapestries of the best workmanship and precious furnishings gave the surroundings a more luxurious appearance.

    Fortunately, the one he had to meet didn''t change at all.

    "Brother," an epithet he had not heard in so long greeted him with a familiar warmth. "How nice to see you! Let me hug you!"

    In response, Quaabiil knelt down, "My king! It is not worthy of a person of your rank to lose himself in foolish displays of affection with a subordinate!" Those words were the complete opposite of what his soul screamed at him to say. But any moment of weakness could have been exploited to undermine his brother''s authority. Even the walls have ears, after all.

    "Nonsense," was the reply. His heart lost a beat from happiness. "The day I cannot show how I feel to my brother will be the day I no longer deserve to be Negus!"

    "Thank you, Haabiil!" Resistance was futile. Their bodies drew closer, finding strength in a common gesture they had always shared in the hardest moments, ever since they were children.

    His brother equaled him in height. Compared to Quaabiil, though, he had a slimmer body and wore finer robes decorated with ornaments shining like a spring rainbow. His mane, whose immaculate white they shared, was less thick and sparser.

    The major difference between the two, however, was in their faces. Haabiil''s was always calm, kind, and expressed the sanctity of a holy man.

    Quaabiil''s, instead, was always corrugated in a frown upside down, hostile as a wild beast.

    "And now," the Negus began, after they had separated. "I want to know everything! How did things go in the human kingdom? I heard about the... defeat!"

    Quaabiil could not hold back his shame. Knowing that he had let down the one person whose esteem he yearned for was more painful than any injury the Warrior King had ever suffered.

    "...Yes. The siege we led now seemed a certain victory for us," that battle was still vivid in his mind. The taste of victory already moistened his lips. Yet now he stood there, reporting failure. "We had taken the fortress, when a horde of undead and angels came out into the open."

    "The work of that special unit that had caused some trouble in the last raids?" His brother asked, concern could not be hidden.

    "That''s what my strategists and I think. At least the angels they conjured up match the ones they used in precedent skirmishes, while the undead seem to have been reported by some of your lieutenants at the beginning of our invasion. Only..."

    There was no doubt that the rest of the news had to be reported. But what he had seen was so unbelievable, that it was in retrospect still absurd that it had been reality.

    "What''s troubling you, Quaabiil? Do you want to take a break? I can have a warm bath prepared or some of the finest courtesans, if you prefer to rest."

    He swallowed. It was the older brother''s job to protect the younger. But Quaabiil was the one who was always protected. Since their childhood, nothing had changed.

    "Our enemies conjured up more than just a simple angel. That thing¡­ It was ... immense. A heavenly light shone before us. I looked into the sun''s eyes that day." At the mere thought, a shiver of fear passed through his fur. His eyes closed, as if they were still contemplating that sparkle. "But not only was its appearance impressive. Magical abilities also out of the norm have fallen upon us. Most of the army was annihilated by that single summoning. We attempted to escape, to no avail. In the end, I killed it thanks to the sacred sword I had with me. But the King of Pride died in the clash, and the Queen of Plots was seriously injured."

    "Did Kibir die?" His brother''s question concealed the concern that was beginning to grip him. Without one of the kings who had voted for his ascension as Negus, his authority would surely have been weakened. "Were you able to recover his body? We can ask the Oligarchy to resurrect him. It will cost us a lot, but at least we will be able to swab the wounds."

    "Yes. We have preserved the body..." Quaabiil noticed that Haabiil''s arm was beginning to shake. He did not point it out to his brother. "Are you sure you want to trust those sly foxes? The only reason they decided to sign the alliance treaty and withdraw the invasion is because we were able to repel the forces of the Qualasandir kingdom." He gritted his teeth, barely managing to contain his fury. "As soon as they notice our moment of weakness, they will have no problem resuming their experiments on our people!"

    The Negus opened his eyes wide, carefully measuring the words to say. "Archnoble Calamandrei is in the capital. I know you don''t like that woman, but we need her help. Don''t think I take pleasure in resorting to such...ambiguous people. But for the moment we are allies, and I don''t intend to be the only one to be used. Besides," a quiet expression, typical of when his intellect was beginning to formulate a definite plan, appeared on his face. "We can ask the members of the Oligarchy about that strange angel. They are great experts in summoning magic, after all."

    It was true. The differences in the knowledge on the subject of magic with the Oligarchy were vast, and only in recent years, under the leadership of the new Negus, had their people begun to bridge that gap.

    "If that is what you wish, I will not oppose. Only, how do you plan to pay?"

    Haabiil spread his arms wide, as if to enclose within them all the treasures of the room. "As you see, we have enough here to be able to satisfy our allies'' thirst for money."

    "Are you sure? These are the fruits of our conquests. We still have occupied territories in the Draconic Kingdom under our control. The human flesh we produce could be sold as a gastronomic delicacy in one of the neighboring kingdoms."

    The farms that had been built on the borders were now producing more than enough products to meet the needs of the merchant class. Human meat was incredibly expensive, and a small quantity was enough to make someone rich.

    "It is not enough," his brother explained, resting a hand on his left shoulder. It was so small compared to his own. "Even if we sold human flesh, it would still take time for our merchants to reach a suitable market where they could sell the fruits of our labor. Don''t worry. The Negus have never lived in wealth, and to tell you the truth all this glitz makes me feel uncomfortable."

    As always, Haabiil showed himself to be the clever one of the two. There was a reason that before becoming Negus he was known by the appellation Wise King.

    "Now, come. You must be tired from the long journey. Tonight, you will eat like a God. I will have a banquet prepared to celebrate your return!"

    "I thank you," was a sincere sentiment. "But I must return to the front at once. Many of our soldiers are still there, including the Brave King and the Mighty King. I want to reorganize our troops as soon as possible."

    His brother''s expression darkened. If Haabiil felt concerned at seeing him return to the battlefield, at least he avoided putting it into words.

    "I understand. Stop for lunch with me at least. Listen to this selfish request of mine."

    "That I can do."

    "Splendid. He''ll be happy to meet you again, too."

    The Negus had his attendants prepare a private room. where a table was quickly set with the nation''s best food.

    When everything was ready, in addition to the two brothers, a third diner showed up.

    "Uncle!"

    Another nevayuu joined them. He was significantly smaller, barely reaching Haabiil''s chest, and his lean physique showed that he was still in the developmental stage.

    "Yiidilo!" At the sight of his favorite nephew, the Warrior King could not help but express happiness with a mighty roar. "How you have grown! Watch you, ready to become a warrior now!"

    "I still have a long way to go, Uncle. But, please, tell me about your latest adventures. I''m curious to hear what humans are like." The white, round eyes like a sphere shone with ardent curiosity.

    "Calm down," Haabiil brought them back to order. "There will be time. Now let''s sit down so we can eat as a family."

    The courses the servants had prepared were served quickly, and the three did not take long to voraciously devour the food they were served.

    Quaabiil had to admit that it had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a delicious meal. Now the prospect of returning to the front was not so enticing.

    "How is your training going? Are you ready to become the next nevayuu king?"

    "He still has a long way to go," Haabiil quickly replied, without giving his son time to utter a word. "His physical abilities are still lacking and his studies only beginning."

    Yiidilo blushed with shame, bowing his head as an apology.

    "I am doing my best. I will prove to you that one day I will be worthy of becoming a Negus. Just like you, Father!"

    "Think about becoming an excellent king first," Quaabiil encouraged him, as he bit into a chicken leg. "Even your father became a Negus only after spending years as leader of our tribe. It takes a lot of experience just to be considered by the other kings. And then you should think about forming proper connections if you want to be elected."

    "I will, Uncle! I will not let the work you and my father have built over the years go to waste. I will ensure that Bahal Geesi achieves even greater splendor than it has known under your leadership!"

    "Perfect. Then I will make your preceptors double the workload. We cannot afford for the next Negus to be unprepared for the challenges he will face!"

    The two brothers laughed, while an expression formed on the younger one''s face that wanted to ask ''Why me?''

    "Uncle," Yiidilo resumed, with newfound vigor. "Tell me about the humans. Are they really as small and weak as they say? My fencing master told me that even a simple weaver would be able to defeat experienced soldiers."

    "It is partly true," the Warrior King began to explain, as he stared fixedly into his nephew''s eyes. "But precisely because they are weak, they have developed a way of fighting that allows them to fight stronger opponents. They are cunning and clever, and they have no problem locking themselves up in palaces to escape assaults and hiding to take their opponents by surprise!"

    "What dishonorable behavior!" Outrageously exclaimed the son of the Negus. Quaabiil could feel his grandson''s blood boiling even from afar. "Is it not cowardly to wage war in this way? It is only through head-on confrontation that one can truly grow."

    "So you, who have never been to war, would still be a child?"

    "Are these not the teachings of the Goddess Korinthus, father? Only through the way of the sword can a man or woman reach enlightenment."

    "What about your mother? Or any other civilian who has never gone to war? Can they never attain enlightenment?"

    Yiidilo said nothing. He stared at the empty plate in front of him, without finding an argument with which to counter.

    "Don''t be hard on him, brother. We too, at his age, felt the same way."

    Haabiil rolled his eyes in defeat.

    "You are right Quaabiil. I just want him to learn to think for himself, and not listen to others'' teachings slavishly, without question."

    "I understand how you feel. If I were to have children someday, I would probably have the same apprehensions as you. In fact, I''m sure of it."

    "By the way. You still haven''t made up your mind to find a suitable mate?" The question came as fast as a bolt. "The Queen of Thorns is still unmarried and has shown an interest in you. Having her on our side would be a great help to our cause."

    Quaabiil was long past the age of youth, but the idea of settling down permanently still did not tickle him. Besides, the Queen of Thorns was not a nevayuu.

    "We are not sure whether an heir can be born from our union. I might find myself without an offspring."

    "This is not a problem," clarified his brother, pouring him a glass of stout. The sweet taste refreshed the Warrior King. "There is always adoption. There are countless capable orphans who would be happy to join your clan."

    "And a non-blood son would have less legitimacy to claim the tribe''s throne in the future."

    "Uncle!"

    "Don''t get involved, son!" His brother stopped Yiidilo with a stern look before he could say anything else. "You are right, Quaabiil. I''ll be frank. In all, I have three children, two boys, and a girl. Any one of them could one day be a capable king or queen. With the current situation, we cannot afford for our tribe to lose power and influence because of internal conflict."

    "Is the situation that tragic?" The Warrior King asked, worried. Of course, after the defeat in the Draconic Kingdom, his brother''s opponents would begin to raise their voices, but he did not think it would be more than a few annoyances.

    "For now, no. But you know that not all kings are on our side. To depose the Negus, you need at least 2/3rds of the votes, so eight kings in total. In my estimation, four are against us and three are neutral. If we can get the latter on our side, we should fear nothing."

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Fools!" Quaabiil exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, which vibrated from the impact. "Don''t they understand that we need stability? The kingdom of Qualasandir has certainly not ended its aims toward us. And the Trotalaibr Oligarchy is our ally in name only. If we get caught up in infighting, we will lose this hard-won calm! Can''t they see it?"

    "Sadly, our defeat in the Draconic Kingdom has allowed old grudges to resurface," the Warrior King felt himself flaring up. The defeat had been his fault; his brother had only erred in entrusting him with the invasion. "You know that our people value strength above all else. Despite my -our- efforts, this mentality has not yet been completely eradicated."

    "I understand," calm began to return to Quaabiil''s spirit. Another glass of stout managed to dispel the rest of his upset. "If you need my help, I will agree to meet with the Queen of Thorns when the war with the humans is over."

    "Thank you," the Negus rubbed his mane, running the thick white fur through his fingers. "Until we have realized the capabilities of the humans, limit yourself to protect the territories we have already conquered."

    Exercising caution for the time being was the prudent move. On this, the two agreed.

    "What are your plans for the humans?"

    "The ones we had even before, brother." An unusual chill seeped from Haabiil''s words, cold as a winter night. "Reduce all humans to slavery and use their wealth, knowledge, and bodies to make Bahal Geesi as great as it ever was! And after that, the title of Negus will also change."

    "You don''t mean that..."

    "Yes, brother. We will establish our dynasty and put an end to the elective system!"

    Upper Water Month, 22nd day, 22.00

    He was a shadow. Not a sound. Invisible. An afterthought. Darkness was his world.

    He lowered himself from the ceiling of that old house. Two armat were sitting on what was once a warm, familiar hangout. Disgusting.

    His needles penetrated between the neck muscles of his victims, ending their lives in a split second. When the man ascertained that they were dead, the mission could resume.

    He climbed onto the roof. A starless night like that was ideal for camouflage.

    With a leap, he landed on the balcony of a nearby house. The captain''s words echoed in his mind.

    ''Giunio, infiltrate the city. Eliminate the guards and open the gate doors. At your signal, we will enter and liberate it.''

    Giunio wasted no time in inspecting the place where he had entered. There was no need.

    Heaven and Earth.

    The assassin.

    After his passage, even the dust remained in place.

    He reached a street halfway from his target. The sound of footsteps. Shadows welcomed him back.

    A nevayuu. A dangerous opponent. And a lantern was in his arm. What a bother.

    ''[Shadow sneak] [Death strike]''

    Giunio moved among the walls. His arms tightened around the demi-humans'' necks. Clack. Broken.

    ''Did I underestimate him?''

    Or perhaps it was his talent that made everything easier?

    He resumed his path. The hourglass continued to run its grains. The man stopped in a bottleneck a few meters away from his target.

    ''Of course, a dozen guards. Let''s see how to proceed.''

    The demi-humans looked well-visaged and ready to give battle at any moment. Nevertheless, they were not going to be a problem. Not for him, at least.

    The real challenge was to eliminate them without them having time to warn their comrades.

    ''What a nuisance. It would be enough for the captain to break down the door and eliminate all the enemies in his path.''

    Unfortunately, the first seat preferred to proceed with caution. Especially when they were in unfamiliar territory. It was a most just reasoning, leaving the poor assassin with the most ungrateful tasks.

    ''Well, there is no other way.''

    Giunio slipped through the streets. He had to admit that these nonhumans knew how to keep them clean. Much worse had been seen in his last mission to the Holy Kingdom.

    He was only a few steps away from the guards. No light revealed his location. Heaven and Earth moved a couple of meters closer. Still, no one had noticed anything.

    ''Now.''

    The mask he wore was not just to conceal his true face or to instill fear. It was, like all his team''s equipment, a powerful magical object with fascinating peculiarities.

    Usually, when he was with all his other teammates, it was useless. In fact, almost harmful.

    In contrast, when he acted alone, it was perfect.

    "What''s going on?"

    "I don''t feel very well..."

    A venomous cloud began to spread, carrying his virus among those who stood between him and his target.

    After a few seconds, many of the guards collapsed to the ground in pain. Their complexions were now pale, ghostly. The last breath of life had expired.

    A couple were still holding on. When they noticed him, an astonished expression was the only reaction they could make.

    He felt pity for them. Then he remembered his training. Pity became apathy.

    "How did you do that? We didn''t hear anything."

    Crack.

    There was no need to answer their questions. The dead did not need answers.

    ''If they knew how many times I saw those questioning faces. Whatever.''

    Giunio rummaged through the corpses, looking for the keys to the watchtower placed near the gate. After finding them, he entered the room where the lever to open the door was located. He pulled it easily.

    He returned to the street, where his companions were waiting for him.

    "Good job," Aeneas merely said, with his usual impassive expression. Heaven and Earth was used to it by now.

    "Fuhuhuhu," he hated that laugh. One of the few things that could make him lose his concentration. "Can we start having fun now? It doesn''t seem fair to me that only Heaven and Earth should taste the thrill of blood."

    A woman with short hair and a slender physique licked her lips greedily. She wielded a scimitar of an unknown material, sharp as a dragon''s claw, and was clad in amber armor that shone in the dark of the night.

    Giunio would have gladly gone without tasting blood, as she had said. But he avoided pointing it out to her.

    "Soon you will be able to enjoy yourself, Windstride," the captain had already taken a path to the center of the city. After directing his attention to Giunio, he watched him with those black eyes of his. The same color as that darkness that served as the assassin''s home. "Have you noticed if there are any captive human beings? Or can we act without worries?"

    "I think there are only demi-humans," his reply was full of conviction, but the mask didn''t show it. "Before I opened the door, I took a quick look around and detected no traces of our kind. Not recent ones at least."

    "So, we can jump into the fray without worry!"

    Giunio wondered if it might not have been better to go with the other group to Evasha''s forest. As he watched his companion, so imposing that he could be easily mistaken for a giant, he could not help but think that Lady Misfortune had taken a fancy to him so that he would end up with all the battle maniacs.

    "Wait, Strongest Human," Aeneas stopped him. How was that boy keeping that band of unhinged lunatics at bay? Okay, he knew the answer. "We must not be hasty. I wouldn''t want us to get caught in any traps."

    The fears of the first seat were understandable, but unwarranted. However, the assassin did not feel like pointing out the situation. After recent events, an unnatural dread that things might take a turn for the worse at any moment had become a constant in the lives of the inhabitants of the Theocracy.

    ''I wonder how Aradia is doing. I don''t see her, as clumsy as she is, able to untangle herself in that forest. Plus, there''s Lady Zesshi...''

    "Heaven and Earth, is everything clear?"

    "What?" He was lost in thought. How strange, that usually never happened. Was he so worried? "Can you repeat that, Captain?"

    "I asked you to take us to the central area, where the municipal building is. Do you think you can do that?" Aeneas looked at him as one looks at a lost puppy. What a pathetic figure. A perfectionist like him reduced to that state.

    "That is, if you don''t prefer to continue getting lost in the world of dreams."

    "Sister, you of all people could not afford to criticize your comrades. Or should I remind you of all the mistakes you have made over the years?"

    "And should I remind you that I can kick your little princess butt from here to Argland Council State?"

    "I''d be really curious to see you try."

    "Then get ready, because it''s not going to be pretty."

    "Stop it!"

    The captain''s order, which was beginning to lose patience, stopped the two siblings.

    "They really never stop those two, do they?" The sixth seat, Shining Blade, asked him. He too was exasperated by the constant bickering of those two at the most inopportune times.

    In fact, Windstride and One-Man Army used to engage in those little shows. It was almost as if they did it on purpose, to dampen the tension.

    "What a lack of professionalism," lamented a man with dried-out skin, covered in a long dark robe. "I long for the days when I was in the Holocaust Scripture."

    "Ahahahahah," Strongest Human''s laugh was filled with unexpected joy. "All they do is show that they are full of life. When Surshana could greet us at any moment, we cannot help but reaffirm our existence at any moment. They remind me of my youth."

    "In any case," Quaiesse had regained control of himself, and was acting as if nothing had happened. "Captain, we are ready to go. Tell us what we have to do."

    Aeneas adjusted his long hair, which was beginning to flow down his forehead. Then, after a long breath, he said, "What we always do. Kill the enemies of the Theocracy."

    At these last words, the air of joviality ended. The laughter had been consumed. Slaine''s special unit was ready to give credit to its fame.

    The city center did not stand out for interesting details. Like dozens of its peers, there was a larger building that served as the town hall, a square where trade took place, and plenty of houses and stores.

    Only this was teeming with demi-humans, all of different races from each other.

    Some were mounting guard in the square, but it was certain that many others were resting in the structures.

    "Heaven and Earth, Windstride, you two will sneak into the dwellings and eliminate the demi-humans who are sleeping. After that, Strongest Human and I will strike those who are awake," Aeneas began to explain as he observed the situation from the top of the rooftop where they were perched. "One Man Army, Shining Blade, and Four Great Spirits will cover us in case more enemies come from other parts of the city. Is everything clear?"

    He did not have to wait for an answer. Each of them took a stand, without delay.

    "Hey, assassin," Clementine''s voice was full of wicked excitement. Would the impending massacre satiate her thirst for death? "Shall we have a contest? Whoever can eliminate the greatest number of those beasts without getting caught wins. Simple as that."

    Normally, he would have refused, but Giunio felt particularly irritated that evening. A friendly competition couldn''t have hurt.

    "Okay, I''m in."

    "Splendid," a grin that resembled anything but a smile appeared on the woman''s face. "Let the fun begin!"

    They parted ways.

    The man entered the first house.

    An oppressive silence. He slipped through the darkness. Walls and floor changed position as his body defied the laws of gravity. Directions lost their meaning. The above was the below and the below was the above.

    After finding balance, he began to run. His steps produced no noise. He found two horuner asleep. They would never wake up again.

    He continued.

    Heaven and Earth.

    The assassin.

    The man gave credence to his name.

    Where did his nickname come from? Each of the Black Scriptures earned an epithet because of their abilities.

    Quaiesse was One Man Army, because he controlled magical beasts that caused terror in the souls of those who needed to make numbers to feel strong.

    Samson was Strongest Human, because no human being could hope to beat him. Godkin excluded, of course. A wall between men and Gods.

    Clementine was Windstride. When she moved, it was as if the wind itself was screaming. Only the wails of her victims caused a more deafening sound.

    Aradia was Infinite Magic. With her talent, every spell consumed less mana than normal. If normal people could use a lake filled with water, she had an ocean to draw from.

    And he was Heaven and Earth.

    Why?

    Because when he aimed at his target, there were no places to hide. Neither on earth nor in the sky.

    A whisper you hear during an agitated sleep, that doesn''t make you open your eyes. For you know that if you had to, what you would see would raise a desire to return to dreamland. No nightmare would be as frightening as him.

    How would he kill?

    It didn''t matter the method. He was a professional.

    Poison.

    Knives.

    Darts.

    Truncheon.

    Short sword.

    Daggers.

    Needles.

    But, strangely, none of these was his favorite.

    Ever since he was just a street rat as a child, he had learned to use what was available to him to get any job done.

    And what does a poor orphan have at his disposal?

    Only his own body.

    Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

    Not that he was endowed with exceptional musculature or destructive power. He was not a warrior or another class dedicated to a head-on collision, after all.

    He was an assassin.

    His fingers knew where to touch. His hands were capable of twisting a neck as easily as crumpling a leaf. The gloves he wore took his already exceptional physical abilities to the limit.

    Not even the strongest demi-human bodies could resist his touch.

    A sparsely furnished living room. Three zoastia. Dangerous adversaries. Fortunately, they were in the dream realm.

    ''Quick. I must be quick.''

    Giunio sprinted. Dust began to rise.

    He arrived at the first Zoastia. "[Body Enhancement]."A sound of bones breaking. It couldn''t be helped.

    The other two woke up, disturbed by the noise. A cloud of dirt began to rise. The right arm charged an uppercut.

    The target''s chin was hit, flinging him a few meters away. While the arm was still raised, an ax blow came.

    Earth. He ducked. The dust had dispersed. He picked up two needles, which he stabbed into the Beastmen''s left foot. A scream of pain. The poison had entered the Beastmen''s bloodstream.

    The other charged with a shoulder strike. The huge body, an explosion of muscle, covered the view. "[Shadow Pass]." But the assassin had already disappeared into the shadows.

    Heaven. He was above them. He threw two daggers. The first one was hit in the eye. The second in the chest. Dead.

    The one left grabbed the ax of his fallen comrade and threw it toward him. The blade began to twist and twist, faster and faster until it caught Giunio squarely in the chest.

    The zoastia had won.

    Or had he?

    In his final moments, the demi-human wondered why it was he who collapsed to the ground with his neck slit and not his opponent.

    "There is a difference between us," the Black Scripture member explained to him, unnecessarily. By now he could no longer be heard. "The equipment."

    ''Phew,'' thought Giunio, as he checked the dents on the protection he was wearing. ''That makes fifteen. I should be done. I wonder how many Clementine got to?''

    He looked out the window. Seeing that the woman was on the roof as she swung herself over the ledge in a bored manner, he joined her.

    "How many?" Curiosity was eating at him. He was not the competitive type, but losing to that maniac could have unpleasant consequences.

    "Seventeen," she replied, continuing to watch the road.

    "Shit. I''ve eliminated fifteen." Fortunately for him, no mockery came. Unusual. Should he have expected something worse?

    "What do you say? Want a rematch?" Clementine pointed his attention below them. The battle had begun, and their comrades had begun to engage the Beastmen. "Before the party''s over."

    He knew why Windstride was in such a hurry.

    Like almost all Black Scripture members, Giunio had undergone Lady Zesshi''s special training.

    Now, that had certainly been the most terrifying experience in his entire life. The assassin had compared it to climbing an endless wall. Without hands. And while a boulder attached to your legs tries to make you plummet down.

    And he was sure that similar experiences had befallen most of their elite group.

    Therefore, sometimes it was easy to forget.

    That the half-elf wasn''t the only monster.

    That their Captain was strong, too.

    Strong was a word that Giunio felt was sometimes used inappropriately. Was he strong? He could kill many people with ease, but it was equally true that within Black Scripture there were individuals against whom he could never win.

    And against a substantial number of capable individuals, his chances would go down. If other races were counted, then surely the number of individuals capable of overpowering him would have grown immensely.

    So no, he did not feel that the strong word was appropriate for him.

    For Aeneas, on the other hand, the matter changed.

    Numbers? They made no difference. He was certain that at least a hundred Beastmen had thrown themselves at the young man.

    And the ease with which he disposed of them was terrifying.

    The young man did not even bother to dodge as he passed among them and took all the blows they tried to inflict on him.

    Aeneas was strong.

    He would travel ten meters, and only then would the enemies realize they were dead. His bare hand pierced the skin and armor of the demi-humans with such speed that it remained perfectly pristine.

    "It''s always like this with him," lamented Clementine, as she slipped one of the stilettos she always carried with herself into the hip of a caben. "He doesn''t even need to use the divine spear. It would be enough for him to punch all these creatures. Well," she began to tear apart her enemy''s wounded body with her scimitar. "I prefer to take my time with my victims. It''s a form of respect."

    ''But weren''t we having a contest?''

    Realizing that by now her companion was more engrossed in her macabre entertainment than in their challenge, Giunio pointed his attention to the enemies who were nearby.

    There were very few left. The most dangerous ones had lashed out at the strongest members of the group, Strongest Human and the Captain, and there was little left for them to do.

    It was interesting to note the different fighting styles between the two.

    Samson sought challenge more than anything else. So, he would let his opponents take their time in launching an attack, then counterattack. When he found that no one could parry his blows, he was disappointed. The man would then move on to the next enemy, hoping that this time he would find the excitement he was looking for.

    Aeneas, on the other hand, wasted no time. Here he went from one end of the square to the other, giving no respite to the Beastmen. Throwing his spear in front of him, piercing rows of enemies, he snapped in its direction and regained his weapon before the drops of sweat could touch the virgin earth.

    The demi-humans thought that surrounding him would lock him in a cage, unaware that they were the ones who were trapped.

    In his rush, he would grab some of the weapons left on the ground by the dead bodies and hurl them into the sky so that they would descend like projectiles.

    A rain of iron and steel.

    There was no escape.

    ''Every time I see him in action it is always the same. I don''t think I can ever get used to how crazy the difference between us is.''

    "Humans, your race ends here!"

    The captain paused.

    A bovine-looking demi-human stood before them. Its fur was a deep dark blue, blending with the darkness of the night. He wore silver armor, probably of adamantium, and arm guards covered with thorns. On his head was placed a tiara, resembling a crown, and a pair of curved horns sprouted at the sides. In his hands, he clutched a large hammer, within which precious gemstones were set.

    ''A minotaur? No, the horns are too small. Maybe a bouffalor?''

    In comparison, the young man looked like an insect. And the demi-human was not alone. A dozen or so of his kind, though smaller in size, accompanied him in battle gear.

    "Face me in an honorable confrontation! The goddess Korinthus is watching us."

    Aeneas sighed. Heaven and Earth could clearly read his captain''s expression.

    ''What a nuisance.''

    The bouffalor raised the hammer high, ready to smash it on the young man. He struck. But to his surprise, the blow stopped in contact with his rival''s hand. His eyes did not have time to widen in amazement, for the spear had already pierced his chest, piercing his heart.

    Aeneas withdrew the weapon. The bloody tip was beginning to leak drops.

    Two of the guards of the now-dead leader found that same spearhead inside their bodies.

    Three more bouffalor charged with swords, ready to strike. Aeneas picked up with his free hand the giant hammer that had fallen to the ground and used it for a sweep that overwhelmed the unfortunate.

    Those who remained could not move. Good. They would never do it again.

    "And that''s done, too." Said the captain with satisfaction. All the demi-humans in the city had been exterminated, and now the place was free.

    "Bah, I would have liked to have had a little more fun," complained Clementine, as she cleaned her weapons of the bits of entrails that remained attached. "Next time, let me take care of the big ones."

    "What do you say, Captain? Do you think their leader could have defeated me?" Strongest Human, as usual, had only one thing on his mind. Battle.

    "He could have given you some headaches. He was stronger than ordinary Beastmen lords for sure. But in the end, I''m sure you would have prevailed."

    The young man sat down on a bench in the middle of the square. He looked at all the blood that had accumulated on his armor and began to wipe it off with a magical item he carried.

    "Of course, if there are so many strong specimens, it is not strange that they called us to clean up," commented Giunio, who like his comrades had found himself a little place to rest and regain his strength. "The Sunlight Scriptures are not enough to be able to repel all these demi-humans."

    "Yeah. That means a lot more work for us," Aeneas had finished with the protection, and went on to clean his spear. "Get ready, another city like this awaits us tomorrow."

    "I look forward to it," Clementine replied, unable to hide her bloodlust. "I was too generous today. I will not make the same mistake."

    As Windstride was ignored, their remaining companions also joined them.

    "I have discovered something interesting," Quaisse proclaimed immediately, looking smug. He was riding on one of his giant basilisks, which he tenderly stroked. "It seems that one of their kings is in this place. We can try to capture him and extort information."

    As he finished saying that, all the Black Scripture watched the corpse of the giant bouffalor still in the middle of the square. The smell of death was still fresh.

    "Fuck."

 Chapter 24: Master race

    Interlude

    The sacred city

    After the Gods came, everything changed.

    I am a humble person, and as such I struggle to put in order the thoughts I am now going to write in this little journal.

    So, dear reader, I apologize if my words are not enough to describe the complexities of reality and the endless facets of history.

    What I can tell you is what my eyes have observed over the years.

    But where to begin?

    When the Gods first showed themselves to us, we were incredulous.

    Try to understand us, until then our prayers had gone unheard and our suffering had been a constant for times immemorial.

    So it was not strange that many were skeptical at first.

    It was difficult to trust strangers who had come from nowhere, and who could boast powers never before recorded in history.

    "Could they really be Gods?"

    "I don''t know¡­"

    Doubt crept into the needy minds of fearful people lacking certainty, who only wanted their woes to end. But, don''t get the wrong idea, the unsure numbered only a few.

    "Yes, I''m sure of it. How else can you explain the way they saved us from those horrible monsters?"

    My mother had been one of the first disciples of the new cult. From the day the Six saved both her and me, it was as if she had been reborn.

    "Elisa, isn''t it splendid? If only your father were still here. But I''m sure from where he looks at us, he is happy to know we are safe."

    "If they are Gods, why don''t they bring Dad back to life?"

    "Don''t be silly. The Gods certainly can''t waste their time on us, mere mortals. Be thankful that they saved us."

    I had my doubts, but seeing my mother so happy for finally finding the peace she longed for was enough. Was mother content? Then so was I.

    Our villagers were not the only ones blessed with the protection of the Six.

    At first, we were a small community, but quickly more and more villages began to join ours.

    Within a year, we had reached the size that no other human settlement had ever even grazed in the past.

    "Look, friends," my mother had become one of the first preachers of the new faith. She, and many others, would get up at morning vespers, just before the workday began, to share the ''good news,'' as they called it. "Every day new refugees come here to us, knowing that they will find protection here. Why, you ask? Because they know that here their pain can have an end. We have been granted a gift, so beautiful that I feel like crying. The days of my childhood, spent hiding from a danger I did not understand, are now over!"

    When she would start with her sermons, not even the time for breathing was wasted. A proficiency that took me years to assimilate.

    "I remember when my parents died. I didn''t even have time to bury them, or mourn them, intent as I was on finding a way to save myself. But by now, those are just memories. If you worship the Gods, you will never again suffer the pangs of hunger! You will no longer fear the night! The only thing awaiting you in your future is prosperity!"

    She knew how to get the crowds fired up, no doubt about it.

    I would act as her assistant, carrying the various papers on which her speeches were jotted down. In time, I began to share her ideas.

    After all, it was the truth. The life we were living before was not remotely comparable to the new one.

    Knowing that there was someone watching over us allowed us to devote our time to everything that before was just a waste of time.

    Music, literature, painting, and theater. If before only the professions necessary for survival found a place in daily life, we were now learning about, partly through the guidance of the Gods, a new world that we had previously ignored.

    Before the Gods, we were surviving, but now we had begun to live.

    What about the Gods, in all of this?

    They were living with us, eating with us. Well, at least almost all of them.

    "The God of death is scary, isn''t it?"

    "I heard that he repelled a horde of Beastmen attacking a nearby village the other day. A pilgrim said he didn''t even have to move to make those creatures collapse lifelessly to the ground."

    "I am grateful to him. But I hope I never see his face. They say he''s gruesome. Don''t you think the same, Elisa?"

    Always locked up in the royal palace, the God of death was never seen by ordinary mortals except in very rare cases. Why did he need to meet with us if he would one day lead to the afterlife?

    "No, I don''t think so."

    I, however, was fascinated by him. After all, it was he who had saved me that fateful day. I knew there couldn''t be anything so terrible about him. Or at least I hoped so.

    I was always looking up at the sky, wondering if I would see him again someday.

    "Look at him, Elisa. Isn''t it beautiful? This is your little brother."

    About five years after the coming of the Gods, my half-brother was born.

    Unlike me, godly blood flowed in his veins.

    Yes, in the previous world, many women and men had been widowed. And rather than remarry with old and pathetic humans of their own kind, they had decided it was better to reproduce with the Gods. Would you have judged them for their choice?

    For their part, our protectors were more than happy to give themselves to humans. At the time I did not have a clear idea of how sex worked, but in retrospect, it was evident that the Six -or perhaps it would be better to say the Five- found it a decidedly fulfilling activity.

    "Have you decided on a name for him?"

    "Lian, after your father."

    I know, naming the child you received from your second union after your late husband would perhaps have seemed distasteful. But, dear reader, try to understand.

    We had realized that the children of the gods were not mere humans.

    Many of them showed extraordinary abilities and exponential growth from an early age.

    At first, we thought it was just a coincidence, but the more time passed the more we understood that lineage determined the abilities that could be bestowed.

    And on a more venial level, the Gods were beautiful. It was not strange that every man or woman, regardless of their sexual inclinations, desired to lie with one of them.

    It was something beyond mere physical appearance. A primal desire drew us with a magnetic force impossible to resist.

    Even I, once I reached adulthood, found it difficult not to fall into temptation. Not that I ever had that honor, of course.

    "Big sister, who is my father?"

    Lian grew up quickly and, like many of his half-brothers and half-sisters, proved to be the rightful heir of the Wind God.

    At six years old, he was already stronger than a grown man.

    The herculean might he had could be a danger to many of our neighbors, so I spent a lot of time trying to train him and teach him how to control it. Not with many brilliant results.

    Seeing how quickly it was growing was a joy for me. I confess that quickly, busy as our mother was with clergy affairs, I began to see him more like a son than a brother.

    He was my pride.

    "See that palace in the center of the city?"

    By now we were no longer a mere gathering of stragglers, but a real nation.

    Towns and villages sprang up with each new day as our capital city grew more powerful and majestic.

    Kami Miyako, the city of Gods, we called it.

    "Your father lives up there. He is the God of Wind. He who darts through the skies every day to keep us safe."

    "Wow. Do you think I can meet him someday?"

    "I''m sure."

    Lian''s father, the God Nekole, was also known as the most ''energetic'' of his kind.

    In the capital alone, it was estimated that there were at least a hundred of his descendants.

    Although my half-brother never socialized with any of them during his boyhood, in time he learned that the family he was a part of was much larger than he thought.

    And so, Lian also grew up. The little boy became a beautiful man with hair as blue as the sea and a physique as perfect as a work of art.

    I had now become a full-time priest of the cult of the Six Great Gods.

    But the more time passed, the more the commitments of our deities increased.

    Our enemies grew more and more, and even the Gods could not be everywhere.

    "It is time for you to learn to defend yourselves!"

    Imirduo, the Earth God, was the first to realize that humans could not continue to live in the shadow of their protectors.

    I was twenty-five years old when the Scriptures were born.

    At first, they were an independent organization under the direct control of the Earth God, but soon, as their numbers grew, relations with the clergy intensified.

    Churchmen, like myself, were the word. The Scriptures, on the other hand, the sword.

    "Big sister, I was enlisted. I will also fight in the army of the Gods."

    Liam, of course, was one of the chosen ones. I can''t say it made me happy, but I understood that increasing our military might was necessary now that we were beginning to gain more and more of our own autonomy.

    Like him, many others of the descendants of the Gods formed what would, in time, become our elite units.

    We coniated a name for those like him.

    Heroes.

    "It is absolutely vital to keep track of all descendants. It is in the blood that the various skills are passed from one individual to another."

    In concert with the military apparatuses, various citizen census organizations were born.

    Our growth was exponential.

    By the time I had reached thirty-five, we were on par with the great neighboring nations.

    "Lady Elisa, did you hear? The Wind God killed a dragon as big as a mountain the other day. The Red Empire is asking for a treaty of peace."

    After years of hard work, I had achieved a certain position within the clergy. I and a few others were beginning to be called Cardinals by our colleagues because of our experience and devotion.

    Interpreters of the divine will, if you will.

    "Yes, Lord Nekole told me about it the other day. He didn''t explain in detail what happened, but he assured me that there is nothing to fear anymore. Once again, our fellow citizens are safe."

    "Ah, what joy! To be in close contact with the Gods! I pray that such good fortune will happen to me someday."

    "I am sure it will, brother."

    The Gods had begun to show themselves less and less.

    Only a few close associates had access to their rooms.

    Why?

    The truth was that they were getting older.

    Like ordinary human beings.

    Except for him, of course. But the God of Death had been locked up in his rooms for years, and except for his companions and the lesser deity who assisted our Gods, no one could see him.

    "Sister, I met my father the other day. He exuded that aura of legend that bards sing about. But he was not as I had imagined him all these years."

    "What do you mean?"

    "He looked ... old. He even had a few wrinkles on his face. Maybe I made a mistake."

    "I''m sure that was the case. Lord Nekole is just tired from the constant traveling he has to do every day to keep us safe. But there''s nothing to worry about."

    "If a Cardinal says so, I have no doubt."

    Life continues like this for many years. I and the other Cardinals were the only ones aware of a secret that was getting heavier to bear every day.

    But how could we tell the population? How could we tell them that soon their Gods would be gone?

    I still recall my mother''s words on her deathbed.

    "I am grateful. I never thought I would die peacefully, surrounded by my loved ones. I was sure I would not reach the age you are now. And, instead, here I am. Hardly anyone reached old in my day. How beautiful life is. I can''t wait to meet your father again and tell him about all the experiences I''ve had."

    Like her, so many others had achieved the peace they had so longed for. And now there was a danger that things would return to the way they were before.

    The first to leave us was the Earth God.

    He who had worked so hard for our future was the first who could not see it fulfilled.

    At least he would achieve immortality through his works, that was what I told myself to console myself.

    A lie that hid the despair I felt.

    "For now, only the other Gods and minor deities are aware of the ''rise'' of the God Imirduo, besides us. But..."

    "Soon the other Gods will catch up with him. And the time will come to tell the inhabitants of the Theocracy the truth."

    Slaine''s Theocracy. This was the name we had given to our home.

    Slaine. In honor of the Six who had given us a future.

    "But how can we do that? I was only a child at the time, but I remember well the state our people were in."

    It was then that I illustrated my proposal.

    "We will create a story. The Gods are not dead. They have only returned to the astral plane from whence they came, to protect our world from dangers we cannot imagine."

    "Do you think it will work?"

    "We have no other choice."

    The others reluctantly agreed with me.

    And so, we initiated our plan. Every priest, no matter the rank or position, was instructed on what he had to say to the people.

    The Gods had not abandoned us. But they simply had other, much more important matters to attend to.

    That is why they had mingled with us for so long. In their generosity, they had given us a way to defend ourselves.

    I don''t know how many of them actually believed the story we tacked on, but the fact is that the doctrine remained united.

    Also, any possible departure from the dogma we had imposed was suppressed in blood.

    I am not proud of it. But it was necessary. Was killing other humans the right choice? For the greater good everything was.

    In the end, even the Wind God left us.

    "I hope I will see him again one day."

    Lian never knew what had truly happened to his father.

    In his head, the paladin of the Theocracy was experiencing new adventures in dimensional planes other than our own. Protecting us from unholy demons who tried to corrupt our spirits.

    My brother was happy. And so was I.

    Then came the fatal hour for the Goddesses of Fire and Water.

    Last, was the God of Life.

    He alone remained, in that immense tower we now called the Cathedral, buried in the highest part of the building.

    No one had access to that place. What he was doing there was a mystery that very few dreamed of finding out.

    We Cardinals were working tirelessly, trying to hold together the fragile balance we were building.

    One evening, locked in my thoughts, I began to wander aimlessly in the Cathedral of Darkness.

    Without realizing it, I arrived at the treasure room, where all the legacies of the Gods were kept.

    Driven by an unexpected curiosity, I entered.

    "Welcome."

    A ghostly, thread-thin voice greeted me.

    It was him.

    Surshana.

    Chapter 24

    Master race

    Upper Water Month, 23rd day, 7.00

    Decem woke up. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the flowers were blooming.

    The Elf King got out of bed, peeling back the sheets that caressed his bare skin like a loving mother.

    Affixed to the right end of the bedroom was a giant glass mirror. Decem spent a few minutes, naked, observing himself.

    All along his long life, he had received before him the most capable artists in Crescent Lake. His gaze had set eyes on tables laden with color, whose chiaroscuros replicated the symmetries of reality with effective naturalness.

    Music of every possible composition of instruments and singing skills, structured successions of simple or complex sounds, varying in pitch, intensity, and timbre, organized according to different dimensions of melody, harmony, and rhythm had delighted his ears.

    The most exquisite food had adorned his banquets, and the sweetest wine had moistened his lips. His palate had known the richness of tastes well befitting a god.

    The finest women, of all ages, from those who recalled spring with their enchanting youth to those who bore the sweet fruits of experience, had lain with him, granting the pleasures of the flesh to his body.

    But none of this had shaken his soul to the core. The barrenness he felt within, similar to a desert that knows not the freshness of rain in decades, could not be thirsted by mere earthly sensations.

    What Decem yearned for was greatness. The recognition that all his efforts should have rightly received. The perfect garden in which everyone would know peace under his enlightened rule. And now only an insignificant amount of time -what were days when one had to wait for decades? ¨C until his dream could come true.

    He dressed.

    The guards outside the door, whose presence Decem deemed unnecessary, were bristling like iron spikes.

    "Your majesty!" They greeted him in unison as they became aware of his presence.

    The Elf King didn''t respond. The sound of his voice was a gift that could only be granted to the most deserving of such a pleasure. Walking ahead of them, not a second glance was given.

    He arrived in the throne room, the officials all present and standing at attention like good little soldiers. Lack of initiative and total incompetence were cancer spreading like a disease in the dying body they called a kingdom.

    What a disgusting view.

    "Your majesty! It is an honor to have you here with us!" The prime minister exclaimed aloud, using words that the Elf Monarch had now heard countless times. "Please enlighten us again today with your wisdom."

    Decem sat down on the royal throne. It was so small. After taking his place as the rightful ruler of the world, he would have one erected whose grandeur would convey the magnitude of his radiance.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "How are the preparations going? Is the royal army ready?"

    At his question, an unnatural chill spread through the room. Both the prime minister and the other officials began to look at each other in search of a suitable scapegoat on whom they would heap his wrath for their failures.

    Idiots. As if he had time to waste on such trash. Over the years, Decem had come to realize, with bitter disappointment, that he could not hold other members of his species to the same high standards on which he positioned himself.

    A sad truth, made bitter by the clash of his high expectations with the harsh reality.

    "So?" He asked a second time, slightly raising the timbre of his voice. Having to repeat himself was not an action befitting a King, but his generosity transcended such trifles.

    "In truth..."

    "Everything is ready!"

    A youthful voice, in stark contrast to that sleeve of old barn owls drowning out his splendor, brought a modicum of relief to the King''s mood.

    "Oh," with an expression of surprise, Decem looked fixedly into the face of the little owner of that sound emission. Eyes of different colors stared at him with a mixture of fear and awe. Black and white. Exactly like his own. "So, I take it from this that both the forest lords and the army of wood elves and dark elves are in place. Good work, Ruri."

    There was no trace of affection in his congratulations. Love was a poison that could infect the sharpest mind and cripple the strongest physique. A weakness he could not allow to pollute such poor offspring.

    "Speaking of the dark elves," his daughter began hesitantly. Of course, expecting a job well done was a witless mistake. And he had sinned foolishly, a grim reality to acknowledge, too many times now. "There was no time to warn the villages on such short notice. They live on the edge of the forest and..."

    "Are those excuses I hear!?" Decem broke that pathetic cascade of nonsense in the bud. "If I wanted to feel shame for my children, I would have made them fight with one of the forest lords. Inconceivable, I thought you were different from those other rejects. But, clearly, giving you my attention was not enough to motivate you!"

    A woman approached Ruri, placing herself between the little girl and the king.

    "My king," there the pleas began. So detestable. His eardrums were pleading that he put an end to that farce immediately, so that they would not have to be humiliated in listening to that nonsense. "Ruri has spent days and nights working together with her siblings and the various generals to organize the numerous troops scattered throughout the forest. Please have mercy!"

    A King is an individual who is distinguished by his virtue. Even if he is forced to be continually disappointed, showing the generosity befitting a person of his rank is an inescapable duty.

    "Okay, all right," Decem flavored the foodstuffs offered to him by his attendant. The taste was too ordinary for him, but he avoided making a ruckus of it. Expecting more? Pointless. "For this time there will be no repercussions. However, should such a poor result repeat, it will be punished as it deserves. Do we understand each other?"

    Both mother and daughter knelt down, placing their heads on the floor to show their devotion. "Understood, o great king! We thank you for your generosity!" They continued for a few minutes, rattling off every conceivable and imaginable thanks.

    After that farce finished, Ruri spoke again.

    "Is all this truly necessary? Why gather all those men to fight one girl?"

    It was the obligation of the higher beings to enlighten the poor minds scattered in the darkness of ignorance with their intellect. Like a candle in the night, Decem began to rekindle the flame of knowledge "Because, my foolish daughter, the one who is heading our way with so much breathlessness could be the answer I have longed for so -too- long. Do you understand? My -our- dream might finally come true. The elves will rule this world as rightful rulers, with me at their head."

    "So, the soldiers we have prepared are just sacrifices to test your daughter?" One of the officials found the courage to show his concerns.

    It was Decem''s first time seeing him, or so he recalled. It couldn''t be asked to keep in mind every useless elf who served him.

    "Sacrifices?" Decem rose from his throne to approach the one who had dared to speak. "Tell me, do you know what that word means?"

    The elf looked at his King, terror falling from his forehead like dew wets the grass in the morning. The realization that he had made a mistake took hold of him like an otherworldly apparition. Vestiges of a weakness that could not be contained. Pathetic.

    "¡­N-no, m-my king." A stifled, graceless rattle.

    "To sacrifice oneself is to give one''s life for a greater ideal. You little, stupid, idiots are not worthy to belong to the same race as me. But I, from the height of my position, give you the chance to bask, albeit imperceptibly, in my light that shines the firmament like a blazing sun. This is an honor that is bestowed on only a chosen few. So no, those soldiers are not ''just'' sacrifices. They are something much greater," he grabbed the official''s shoulder and began to squeeze it tightly. The latter began to scream, but none of the others present thought at all of coming to his rescue. "Only those who are strong can question my orders. Tell me, are you strong?"

    "N-n-no, my king," the wails of pain grew louder as the elf king''s grip continued to hold firm. "¡­ F-forgive this pathetic s-servant and his arrogance."

    "Do you repent for your sins?"

    "¡­I-I do."

    "You are forgiven." Decem''s expression lit up with a heavenly smile. The elf thought he was saved. "Your death will be the suitable atonement for your disrespect."

    The official felt his shoulder begin to twitch as his bones twisted into unnatural positions.

    He fell to the ground with a motion devoid of elegance, as a leaf is blown by a gentle wind over the dirty earth.

    ''Even in death, these idiots lack beauty.''

    Giving him a chance to make up for his sins had perhaps been an unwarranted act of charity. Appropriate punishment would have been the most just response. But a good heart was the Elf King''s weakness.

    "You," he addressed his prime minister peremptorily. "Have this filth cleaned up as soon as possible, I don''t want the sight of this corpse to sully the throne room even more."

    "It shall be done!" At least someone from whom one could expect a modicum of competence was among those useless rats.

    "My mood is ruined. Pray that this experiment succeeds or I may finally decide to end your useless lives." As he watched the lifeless body being taken away by some guards, a long-held suspicion was confirmed. "Yes, perhaps the problem is the lack of raw material. If buried in mud, even the most precious diamond loses its luster."

    "Father, if I may," Ruri took the floor. Even issuing a single letter was a source of fear for the girl. Another failed experiment? Hope in her still shone faintly. "What are the criteria for considering the experiment successful?"

    That was the question everyone was asking themselves, but no one dared yet to express. Like the benevolent ruler he was, Decem stooped to explain his plans to those fools. Wishing they could decipher his intentions was only a vain hope.

    "It''s very simple," he tried to sound out each word as much as possible, in such a way that even those idiots could understand him. "If no survivors return, then the hoped-for result will have been achieved. A small army like the one we have prepared should be no problem for a daughter worthy of my blood."

    Silence fell. Frost brought winter to the room.

    "¡­A-all of them?" Ruri asked, shaken.

    "All of them. But there is no need to feel pity. Their bodies will live as an offering to my greatness. When I rise as the undisputed leader of the world, they will be remembered in the songs of the bards forever. I offer them the immortality of history. Am I not a generous ruler?"

    Everyone began to applaud and cheer for him. It was a roaring, uncertain manifestation of awe, not worthy of a superior being like him. None of those movements were authentic. But Decem was satisfied, nonetheless. Wishing for more would have been madness.

    "The forest of Evasha will be the theater of our carnival." A smile filled with seraphic ardor popped up naturally on his perfect face. "Fate itself shows us that this meeting will be the dawning of a new dawn. Soon¡­ so soon. Once reunited, we will give new meaning to the word perfection. Even the dragons of the past will kneel before our strength!"

    A fat, atrocious laugh began. It was made of the same substance of nightmares.

    "But," Ruri was still uncertain. "Should my sister also be able to pass the ''test'' and exceed expectations, didn''t she come here as an assassin of the Theocracy? What if she decides to not cooperate with your¡­ our plan?"

    Decem stopped his exultations.

    "Could a daughter ever refuse what her beloved father orders her to do?" He approached the little girl, calmly. No desire to frighten her. "Would you ever refuse an order from me?"

    They were only a few centimeters apart now. Her mother seemed to be about to stand between them again, but fear can immobilize better than any chain.

    "N...no, father."

    "Good girl." Decem sighed, letting that lack of intelligence and common-sense fall into the void. "And even if she should throw a tantrum, it''s every good parent''s job to bring unruly children on the right path, don''t you think?"

    "Y... yes, father. Forgive this foolish daughter for the stupid question."

    Decem moved even closer; by now they could hear each other''s breathing. The king took a closer look at his daughter. That immature body, the breasts not yet developed, and the face that still bore the marks of girlhood.

    She was not ready. Few more years before she could fulfill the other project that had been predetermined for her.

    Decem stroked her hair, white and silky like his own. His fingers brushed her reddish cheeks, which shyly retracted at his touch, like a frightened puppy.

    What did he read in her eyes that watched him like a frightened fawn watches the hunter? A desire for rebellion or a soul yearning for mercy? Why couldn''t they understand that the burden rested not only on them alone, but also on him?

    Couldn''t they spare some commiseration also for their father? All he did was for his children, after all.

    "In recent times I have realized something. Do you know what was the biggest mistake I made in mixing my blood with common elves?"

    Ruri shook her head as she tried to look away from him. The king, however, forced her to look him in the eye.

    "Purity. I did not take purity into account. I have sinned in arrogance, and do you know why?"

    Still no answer. The other elves also began to wonder about their king''s inquiries.

    "I foolishly believed that my blood, my genes, alone would be enough to suppress your inferiority. Was I not foolish? Don''t avert your eyes! Look at me! What do you see?"

    "I see..."

    "I said look at me!"

    "Perfection, father."

    "Good girl. What if I brought a mirror instead? What would you see reflected?"

    Ruri began to sob. Her tears were disgusting. Decem contemplated tightening his grip. It would only have taken a second to push life away from that little body. And what would change in the end? Never again. Never again would he allow his descendants to be so ... frail.

    "M-myself."

    "And what are you, child?"

    "¡­Weak."

    "That''s right," Decem let go of the hold. The Elf King saw his daughter struggling to hold on as she tried to catch her breath. "Your inferiority is so overwhelming that it has infected even the supremacy of my lineage." This time his words were addressed to everyone present, who lowered the eyes in shame. They were dismayed at their own futility. "Having me as your King is the only fortunate event that has happened in the long history of this so-called kingdom. No, don''t look at me like that. You know it''s true. I have tried, for centuries, to give you back a modicum of worthiness. To make you shine as precious jewels. But even I have not succeeded in elevating you to something higher. My greatest failure. Look at yourselves. You hate me. I know you hate me. How could you not? Envy is a monster that feeds on weakness, and you offer a feast that will never end. Why don''t you kill me then? Why do you serve me? Why don''t you rebel?"

    "Sire, if I may..."

    "Silence! Did I give you permission to speak?"

    The prime minister dared not breathe a word again. Not that Decem expected otherwise.

    "Do you see? What are you without me? Sheep. No, you are even worse. Animals at least follow orders. They recognize their master. You kneel at my feet like frightened children so that I may save you from the dangers of this world. Yet, you complain when I try to make you walk on your legs." How many times? How many times had he had to provide for them? The time had come to say enough was enough. "Parasites fighting for a shred of dignity. But my indulgence is over. It is the dawn of a new era. Say goodbye to the merciful King you have known until today. From now on only the purest will be able to boast of the title of elf. I will never again let trash like you be compared to me."

    "Ruri," his daughter had clung to the arms of her mother, who was shaking conspicuously. "You will be the second, after the daughter of the Theocracy. In the meantime, I entrust you with another duty, of the utmost importance."

    The little girl broke away from her mother''s embrace, trying to retain a modicum of decorum. Her voice, broken by crying, was uncertain and thin. "¡­I am at your command, father."

    "Train and educate your sisters and brothers. When the time comes, all of you will have to fulfill other tasks for the preservation of my legacy."

    "Nooo. You are a monster! How can you think of..." Before Ruri''s mother had time to finish her slanders, Decem broke her neck bone with a quick hand motion. To speak such vulgarities in front of a child. Not a minimum of decorum.

    "Today the insects think they are more imposing than they are but," he wiped his hand with a silk cloth offered to him by one of the attendants. Just the thought that he had to touch the skin of a lower being made him shudder. "It is good for you all to remember where you belong."

    "¡­ Mom, Mom..." Ruri kept shaking her parent''s dead body, as if that futile gesture might bring her back to life. She had resumed crying, this time more profusely than before. "Mom, Mom...please answer me..."

    Better this way. Without the nefarious influence of that pathetic woman -what was her name again? - perhaps his daughter would have begun to show a modicum of talent. Over time, Ruri would have thanked him.

    "I retire to my rooms. I don''t intend to be disturbed unless it is news concerning my daughter. The one from Theocracy, I mean. Ah, have a new throne built. One that is fitting for me."

    "Yes," replied the prime minister, still shaken by events. Still, he avoided making any remonstrances. "I will provide for the burial of Nicaea. As for Ruri? What should I do?"

    Decem did not need to think about it.

    "I don''t care. As long as the girl is ready to perform the tasks entrusted to her as soon as possible."

    Upper Water Month, 23rd day, 7.00

    "What are you reading, Lady Zesshi?"

    Antilene raised her eyes from the book in her hands to take a better look at who had addressed her.

    "Just an old diary given to me by the patron deity," she replied, scrutinizing the woman with long, blond hair who was now a few steps away from her. "It''s very interesting. If you want, I can lend it to you when I''m done, Divine Chant."

    "That might be interesting," replied Elena Melpomene Tersicore, current bard of Black Scripture. "And I could sing for you in return. Have you ever seen me perform in the theater?"

    "No," lied Antilene. Not because she had actually seen her in the theater. Rather the girl remembered hearing her companion practice in the Cathedral of Darkness. Keeping it a secret was preferred, however, so as not to cause embarrassment. "I would be very pleased, once this mission is over. Are the others awake?"

    "Yes. They sent for me to warn you that breakfast is ready."

    "Let''s go then."

    Antilene headed with Elena toward the camp where the rest of their small group was. The Wind God''s armor, except for the helmet, fit her like a second skin.

    The half-elf had decided to rest a few meters away from them during the night, officially to stand guard in case a magical beast should attack them.

    Unofficially to prevent her presence from making the rest of the Black Scriptures uncomfortable.

    When they arrived, they found Cedran kneeling on the bare earth, chanting a litany that Antilene recognized as an invocation particularly dear to the Earth God.

    A man with a face covered in tattoos looked at him with pity.

    "We are on a mission, man. There is no need to set out every morning to pray so devoutly. I am sure the Gods are already more than satisfied with what we are doing." Cedran ignored that advice and continued with his moment of worship. "All right, have it your way. I was just saying that for you." Divine Chain took a bite of one of the sausages they had prepared for breakfast, beginning to chew it conspicuously with his mouth open.

    "You''re disgusting, Edgar," One Thousand League scolded him, as she tossed a few bits of food into the purse she always carried with her. "I should feed you to my little puppy. Who knows, then maybe you might finally learn some manners."

    "Maybe. Surely for your big mouth that wouldn''t be enough."

    Cassandra gave him a look that could have stunned an undead.

    "I foresee misfortune in your destiny. How sad."

    "Hey! These are not things to joke about!"

    "Will you be quiet!?" Blurted out Infinite Magic, irritated by their bickering. "Y... you will anger Lady Zesshi!"

    "I see you always know how to amuse yourself," Antilene approached them as Time Turbulence offered a small plate containing the food they had prepared. "Is there any relevant news from the elves we interrogated?"

    Since their group had arrived in the Evasha forest, they had been attacked by small groups of scouts practically every day.

    The half-elf found it pleasant that her father cared to let her know that he was aware of her presence. How sweet.

    Irritation that none of their captives knew anything interesting, nonetheless, was beginning to set in.

    "No, unfortunately." After finishing with his prayers, Cedran had taken a seat next to his comrades. "Always the same old stuff. They have orders to inspect areas that were previously patrolled by the Theocracy and report back if they find any intruders, but beyond that they are groping in the dark. I don''t think we''ll find anyone in the vicinity who can give us what you''re looking for, Lady Zesshi."

    "I see," Antilene was not researching for any particular piece of information. But she was aware that before the final battle, every bit of help could be useful. "And of their bodies, what have you done with them?"

    "We burned them," Aradia replied, trying not to meet the gaze of the extra seat. When no answer came, the woman began to hesitate. "W... We didn''t make a mistake, right?"

    "Hum? What? Ah, no. Sorry, I was thinking about something else."

    "Is something troubling you, Lady Zesshi? Despite his small size and boyish features, Saturno was always the most perceptive in understanding others'' feelings. "It is our job to allow you to focus on the mission without any distractions. If anything causes discomfort, I beg you to tell us."

    "No, nothing serious," Antilene replied, deep in her heart happy about those concerns. "I was just thinking that maybe it would be better not to kill them. Useful information could be provided by these elves."

    "If these are your wishes, they will be respected next time."

    The half-elf, after realizing she had ended up the center of attention, tried to change the subject to suppress her embarrassment.

    "How many more days until we reach Crescent Lake?"

    Edgar pulled a map out of one of the bags he was carrying and placed it on a piece of wood nearby.

    The man then pointed to what was marked as an encampment on the map.

    "We are here. A few meters from the old guard post of the Theocracy," he explained, with unexpected professionalism "It will take us another week to get to the capital, if we proceed at a normal pace. If we want to hurry, it could take as long as two days. You may perhaps arrive even earlier, Lady Zesshi. But the risk of getting lost in this tide of trees is considerable."

    "Better to take it easy. It''s not like we have someone running after us after all."

    Odd, isn''t it? An assassination mission where the killers take their time, the target is aware they are coming, and without any sense of urgency.

    "Are you sure you don''t want to speed things up? We don''t know how many traps your father has set." Saturno''s concern was thus well justified, indeed totally adhering to all principles of logic.

    "From the beginning, this was not an assassination attempt. But a confrontation," Antilene smiled, already anticipating the blood of her parent wetting her hands. "A confrontation that has waited almost two hundred years. Do you know why he decided to attack first?"

    "To eliminate a nuisance that had been bothering him for some time," Cassandra ventured, uncertain. "I guess having an enemy army in one''s kingdom is not optimal for development."

    "It may be," the half-elf, however, was not convinced by those words. Holding up a finger and assuming a schoolmarm tone, she began to explain her reasons. "But I don''t think it was because of that. The war had been going on for over a century, and the elf king had never shown any particular interest in his subjects. Why intervene now?"

    "It''s an invitation," Cedran grabbed the mighty shields that were part of his equipment, resting a few feet away from him. The nonchalance with which he lifted that weight testified to the power of his muscles. "And a warning. A proclamation that he was capable of destroying the Theocracy at any time he wished, and if we did not comply with his demands he would follow through on the threats."

    "Exactly!"

    "You call killing nearly fifty thousand people a warning?" Edgar was understandably shocked by that theory. Holding tightly to the chain he was wearing, he tried to take courage. "What kind of sick monster could reason like that?"

    "My father," Antilene replied, tying her long hair into a braid suitable for her helmet.

    "...I... I didn''t mean to imply that..."

    "Don''t worry. I know perfectly well what a depraved being that man is," she looked Edgar fixedly in the eyes, to notice that Divine Chain began to blush furiously under her gaze. "If I were to lose, what do you think he could do to me?"

    An embarrassed silence rose.

    Aradia tried to say something, but nipped a possible tactless statement in the bud.

    "Hahaha," a burst of sincere, crystal-clear laughter ended that quiet. "When I agreed to the mission, I was aware of what might happen. And I accepted the possible consequences... You should do the same."

    "If you were to die, or worse, what would become of the Theocracy? No, of the entire human race..." Saturno gave voice to the concerns that were gripping Black Scripture.

    "Humans will continue to survive, as they did before me and before the coming of the Gods. I am not as special as you think," their doubtful expressions seemed to say otherwise. "And the guardian deities would remain. And Aeneas. I am not as irreplaceable as you think."

    Antilene spoke calmly, expounding a truth not only established but taken for granted.

    Whether she had succeeded in convincing them, however, could not be said with certainty.

    Elena began to hum a verse between her teeth.

    "How beautiful is youth,

    That one flees nevertheless!

    Who wants to be happy, let him be:

    Of tomorrow there is no certainty."

    "What are you singing, Elena?" Aradia was enraptured by the sweetness of Divine Chant''s voice, which was able to quench troubled spirits as water quenches flames.

    "It''s an old song. The guardian deity once taught it to me," the blond-haired woman began to explain, reminiscing about the past. "I think its meaning is ''don''t let the future worry you.'' I''m sure Lady Zesshi will be able to slay her father, and if she can''t, we are here to back her up. There is no point in wrapping your head before it starts to bleed."

    "Well said," Antilene agreed with her, emitting a joyous chuckle. "Rest assured. I have no intention of losing. My father is strong. Of that, there is no doubt. But I...," with Charon''s Guidance she sliced off the head of a reptilian being who had sneaked up on them "I am much stronger. You should know that."

    The beast''s skull was grabbed by her right hand. She proudly displayed it in front of her Black Scripture comrades.

    "Ghost chameleons are able to blend in perfectly when they are in the forests. I hadn''t noticed either," Cassandra observed, adjusting her lenses to get a better look at the creature''s now-hexane body. "How did you perceive it?"

    "I didn''t. In order to attack, the chameleon''s species must become visible again. Simply, when its claws took shape, I launched myself in its direction without thinking."

    By now Black Scripture had become accustomed to those demonstrations of ability, for no one was more astonished than normal at Antilene''s explanation.

    The half-elf was almost disappointed.

    ''Maybe I should be more stagey next time. I''ll throw the scythe with a sharp blow. Or I could take down the enemy with my bare hands.''

    As she pondered what might be the best way to leave her companions breathless, it dawned on her that Saturno had begun preparations to set off.

    "Okay, I''d say we''re ready to go."

    At the signal from the second seat, they set off. To be on schedule they would have to cover several kilometers.

    It happened that some magical beast would approach them, but most of the time it was enough for them to notice Antilene to start running away in fear.

    This certainly made the journey more peaceful, although very, very boring.

    Nevertheless, it seldom happened that any of the inhabitants of the Forest of Evasha, whether out of hunger or to prove their strength to their fellow specimens, would take courage and try to attack them.

    Do we need to waste words to say that every one of them would quickly come to a bad end?

    "Another shot well taken, Lady Zesshi!" Aradia noted with satisfaction, almost as if she had been the author of it herself, the death of beings that looked like the demonic cross between a man and a fly.

    "Chasmes are insidious adversaries," the blackish blood of those horrors still stained the tip of Charon''s Guidance blade. "Especially because of their abilities that cause drowsiness. Therefore, it is necessary to overwhelm them as soon as possible. Well, easier said than done given their resistance to magic."

    "I remember that such a race lives near the city-state alliance," Cedran recalled, offering a cloth to Antilene so she could clean her weapon. "We faced some of them years ago. But they were much smaller. A child could compete with them in height. Whereas these towered over an adult."

    "The ecosystem of this forest pushes for competition," Saturno had pulled out a notebook, on which he had sketched a rough representation of the chasmes and inserted a few detailed notes about the creature "Mutations of other species that we are used to considering harmless might be hiding in this foliage. Let''s be careful!"

    "How do you know about all these things, Lady Zesshi? I thought you had never left the capital in all these years." Edgar''s question, simple in its naivete, was like a dart shot toward the heart of the half-elf.

    "Yes, it''s been decades since I left Silksuntecks," the weirdness of the situation left Antilene, who still struggled to adjust to that lack of human settlement, strangled. "But I never stopped keeping myself informed about the various dangers of the outside world. It''s a habit I''ve cultivated since childhood."

    "As was to be expected from the disciple of the guardian deity," Cassandra puffed out her chest with pride as she tenderly caressed a small scale-covered creature poking out of her purse. "And from the daughter of the legendary Faine. I dare not imagine what it was like to study under the patronage of such memorable personalities."

    "... It''s been interesting," she couldn''t find anything else to say. "I remember once, when I was still a little girl, my mother brought me a drawing. It depicted a centaur."

    To call that jumble of lines a centaur was far too generous. But back then, that depiction had represented all the fascination and mystery of a world that was precluded. "I asked her what it was. The answer was ''an enemy.'' My mother spent the rest of the morning explaining to me all the weaknesses of that demi-human and the strategies to be adopted to fight it at its best. At the end of the day, she let me keep the drawing. I preserved it as a priceless heirloom for years."

    "I would have liked to meet Lady Faine. Or Lord Tolstove. Or the Perdio twins. Such valiant heroes, you don''t see every day."

    "I bet there are too many to count good memories of your mother that you carry in your heart."

    "...Yeah."

    ''But why do sweet memories hurt more than painful ones?''

    Antilene did not blame her companions.

    Her story was a secret.

    And so was her relationship with Faine.

    Something that had to remain hidden, out of sight.

    This was their relationship story.

    If it had never been narrated, the world would not have missed any of it.

    No, it would have been better if it had stayed buried.

    Lost.

    Forever.

    The rest of the day continued without any noteworthy events.

    A monster coming too close, a pause to regain strength, and off again, heading back on the road.

    After many hours, when the sun was heading to violate another night, and the stars were beginning to shyly come out of their palaces in the sky, it came time to stop.

    The Black Scriptures were ready to call it a day.

    Except¡­

    "Did you hear that noise?" Before he had time to catch his breath, Edgar twirled his enchanted chain toward a bush meters away from him. "Nothing. Maybe I imagined it?"

    "No," Cassandra corrected her companion, pointing her finger in the opposite direction from where Divine Chain had aimed his attack. "They are there. I see them."

    "An ambush?" Following his companion''s indications, Saturno drew the rapier he wielded. With a leap, he disappeared into the bush, to return soon after dragging an elf by his long ears.

    The prey seemed shaken, its muscles twitching as if in spasms, and its head made an erratic waving motion as its pupils were on the verge of popping out.

    "There are more!" Cassandra shrieked. "Two at thirty-five meters southwest, three at forty meters northeast, and one..."

    "Beware!"

    An arrow aimed at the head of One Thousand League Astrologer was deflected with mechanical precision by Cedran and his shields.

    Unexpectedly, a few centimeters from the surface of the shield, the arrow turned direction, returning from where it had started. A gasp of pain ensued.

    "And one behind you."

    "I noticed, Edgar."

    "In any case, you said southwest, right?"

    Divine Chain did not wait for an answer before aiming his trusty weapon at the ground.

    As if endowed with a life of its own, the chain darted through the ground until it reached the attacking elves.

    "From underneath?"

    Assuming the shape of a snake, Edgar''s weapon twisted around the legs of the two, knocking them to the ground.

    "Perfect, only three more to go..."

    But Antilene, in all this? When Cassandra had declared the position of the elves, the half-elf had already set off with an impetus that shook the earth.

    Taking advantage of the surprise of her enemies, who had not expected to be discovered so fast, she stunned two of them with a side kick, to deliver the coup de grace to the third with a caress to the cheek.

    "I correct myself." Rectified the tattooed man. "Now that we have caught these long ears, what shall we do with them?"

    "Nothing," Antilene said, impassible. "We let them go."

    The Black Scriptures looked at each other incredulously. No one, however, dared to contradict the extra seat.

    Even the elves took a few seconds before they realized what was happening.

    "Why don''t you even question us?" One of them asked, still surprised.

    "It would be useless. You are just a decoy, aren''t you? Then let us take the bait!"

    "Are you sure, Lady Zesshi?" Elena kept her composure. But the same could not be said of their companions.

    "Of course. Come on, go," ordered the half-elf to the others. "Rest assured that we will follow you."

    The elves did not seem very convinced, but realized there was no alternative. They then began to move among the trees, keeping their distance.

    "Stand still. It''s not time yet."

    Antilene had now taken command of the group, and no one thought the least of contradicting her directives.

    "Cassandra. Use a spell to see where they are headed."

    "Right away, Lady Zesshi!"

    The bespectacled girl concentrated for a moment that seemed eternal. "I see them," she exclaimed. "A few meters from here. There is a kind of open space surrounded by giant trees. There are so many of them. Not just elves. Even magical beasts," she swallowed saliva that was beginning to block her throat. "Many of them are gigantic. Is that a dragon?"

    "The...The lords of the forest," Aradia clutched the magic orb she always carried tightly as her puny body disappeared under the giant hat she wore. "Then it was true that the Elf King had tamed them."

    "Do you also see my father among them?" Antilene did not seem at all frightened by that latest news. She had accepted them with supernatural ease.

    "No. At least I don''t think he is among them. None of the elves seem out of the ordinary."

    "Perfect," Charon''s Guidance began to lead the way. "Let''s go."

    "Are you sure you want to jump into the fray like that?"

    "Don''t worry. I have a plan. My father was kind enough to prepare a playground just for me. What kind of daughter would I be if I didn''t have fun without qualms?" A sincere, evil-free smile appeared on the half-elf''s face. It recalled the half-moon shining high in the sky. "I have spent the last century sharpening my sword. It''s time for the elf king to taste its tip."

 Chapter 25: ?

    Observe.

    What do you see?

    A forest.

    Branches covered with leaves separated the heaven from the earth.

    Of all forms of nature, Evasha''s forest was the most conducive place for novelistic fiction and the secret encounters of lovers; with its depth and mysterious caverns, it favored penetration into the mystery that banishes all boundaries between reality and enchantment.

    A light.

    The moon shone high in the sky.

    Supreme star of dream and mystery, torch destined to illuminate earthly nights, always its charm attracted gazes and thoughts.

    It seemed that reigning over the empire of silence, of peace, was more mysterious, more solitary than any other kingdom; its icy white light always returned to renew the first impression. It remained in the mind while representing the night itself.

    Close your eyes.

    Listen.

    What do you hear?

    Absolute lack of sound or noise. Silence.

    Language of all strong passions, from the purest to the most boorish. More powerful than any speech, any name, any word. The same was true of any image that, in its figurative and symbolic idiom, represented an appearance, a specification, a delimitation of the indistinct.

    Hidden in the bush, elves and beasts waited for the girl. Until a few months before, mortal enemies. Now, slaves to the same will.

    Antilene knew.

    She was ready.

    After this, no turning back.

    No hesitation. For delay was akin to death.

    The sound of the ground shaking from the pressure of her footsteps was the herald foretelling her arrival.

    That earthquake, which had not ceased to travel in all senses of the earth, was a kind of refreshment for the lands sick of life.

    She was spotted.

    There were so many of them that they could dry up the rivers with their passage. Make the flourishing prairies barren with their march.

    And they were not alone. In every corner, in every crevice they surrounded her. The generosity of darkness concealed their existence.

    "Surrender," ordered the half-elf. One last chance before it all began. "Surrender, or you will all die."

    Her words concealed neither malice nor superiority. Yet, neither compassion nor sympathy could be heard.

    A shower of arrows, the few moonbeams struggling to enter the forest obscured by the passage, was the answer given.

    Antilene remained unmoved.

    The elves, watching from their hiding places, believed they had won.

    A certainty that collapsed in seconds, like a sand castle bathed in sea waves. A daydream from which reality wakes you up with cruel thoroughness.

    The Wind God''s armor continues to glitter with that pure white, slicing through the obscurity of the night.

    Antilene kept waiting.

    A second attempt. The noise of the firing bows breaks the silence that until just before would have been called sacred.

    Differences? Yes, now the soil was covered with arrows. The wood from which they were made, the same as the trees in Evasha''s Forest, had come home.

    Mother Nature always collects her debts.

    Now, imagine.

    Picture that you are an elf.

    All your life, you have lived in fear.

    You curse yourself, because you cannot protect those you care about. Your friends, your children, your lovers, everything you give your heart to could be snatched away from you at any moment.

    You hate yourself, others, your enemies, the gods, anyone who can give meaning, however trivial, to your suffering.

    Finally, that monster you contemptuously call "King" decides to end the source of your hardships. Putting an absolute halt to your sorrows.

    You believe, you hope, that the war is over. And that peace can finally return to your life.

    And hope is born, so faint as to appear unreal. But it is there.

    And the thought that things might get better begins to make its way into your mind.

    When you realize that all this could be ripped away from you again, how would you react?

    Would you show the courage of a lion, and throw yourself to the defense of your newfound happiness? Or would you let despair take over your body, too tired to muster new strength?

    "Let''s begin," Antilene leaped, landing in the center of a group of enemies.

    The neural activity in the brain involved in word processing takes an infinitesimal fraction of time to elaborate the inputs that are received from the surroundings and emit a sound that is commonly called language.

    "...A..."

    A single letter was all the elves managed to communicate before Charon''s Guidance cut through their bodies with such diabolical precision that it would seem utopian.

    "...ttention..."

    The rest of that warning never reached the other companions. Nor did Antilene hear anything.

    A normal man has a reaction time of close to a second. The dangers of the forest, the pitfalls that lurk in the shadows, had led Evasha''s inhabitants to develop their senses and be able, unconsciously, to reduce to an even shorter time the responses their bodies could make to signals that foretold an imminent threat.

    The neuronal system started to emit a spasm, a contraction moments after the connections we call life had already been severed.

    Antilene was already far away when the muscles began to move.

    Leaving behind a trail of blood and death, the half-elf continued her run. Trees moved from her view, though they remained motionless.

    She climbed the trunk of one of those plants.

    The bows were pointed toward her and the arrow shaft stowed in the space provided on the bow.

    Reaching the top, half a dozen of these arrows tried to center her, but hit only a mirage of what was her residual image.

    "...W..."

    The free hand sharpened like a blade. The still-surprised heads of the archers were sliced clean off, with the precision of a guillotine. The corpses remained uncomfortably clean as a perverse idea began to take hold.

    ''Let''s frighten them.''

    Antilene picked up the still intact skulls and began throwing them on the surrounding ground. After that, she repeated the same action by heading for the nearby trees.

    There were two battlefields. The first was where conflict established itself in material reality, where the body could prove its worth. Where recklessness became courage and the prowess to slay a virtue.

    The second was much more treacherous, made up of subtext and second intentions. It was the one that comes to life in the minds of warriors and where emotions rule the day. However much one could be trained to achieve a mechanical coolness to stem the rise of the most perfidious enemy, fear will always identify the appropriate vulnerabilities to send the mind into turmoil.

    And Antilene, who had chosen war as teacher of life, blood as the water of her body, and death as eternal companion, had a natural gift for understanding what was the right lever to plunge her opponents into despair.

    Not even a minute had passed that hundreds of decapitated heads began to roll through the ranks of the elves, spreading panic.

    The fighting spirit collapsed faster and faster. It had only taken a few moments to turn a proud army into a fearful band.

    The ranks were reduced to a haphazard jumble that spread like splashes of color on a painter''s board.

    Beneath the fragile crust of what one might have derisively called an army was churning cold chaos.

    The chaos broke all semblance of bonding and became the bearer of one idea: that of survival.

    The veil of that lie called courage had been lifted, showing the innermost gruesomeness of the mortal psyche.

    But the elves were not the only opponents she had to watch out for.

    ''Oh, now we are going to have fun!'' Antilene thought contentedly. Her lips curved into a satisfied expression, filled with a macabre thirst for pain.

    Gorilla-like creatures, but immensely larger, began to pour in on her. Their limbs moved in mystical, almost supernatural excitement, recalling what were ancient, ancestral dances that connected with the spirits of the beyond.

    They did not even remotely care about their ''allies,'' who were swept away by their charge.

    The one who looked like their leader, given his size rivaling a giant, approached Antilene, who had returned to the ground.

    The beast emitted a scream that froze the blood of almost everyone present. He then began to beat his chest loudly in defiance with an uncontrollable and, seemingly, unharmonious rhythm.

    Following his example, all the other members of the species also began, with more disappointing results, to try to provoke a reaction in Antilene, who observed that pathetic display of strength with the same contempt with which one looks at ants.

    Disappointed by that impassivity, the leader uttered the words, "Say, are you the one the King is looking for?"

    Unexpectedly, he showed an education that clashed with his wild air.

    "I think so," replied Antilene, resting her attention on the monster''s face. A short, crooked snout with small eyes that looked greedily at her and a pair of dark nostrils as deep as ravines. "You''re an amomongo, right? Uglier than I expected."

    "Your death will bring us freedom," gaping, razor-sharp canines reflected in the moon''s glow. "For our salvation, die!"

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    At the forest lord''s signal, all the other amomongo began to unsheathe their claws, and twirl their arms like the paddles of a mill.

    "Cute," commented the half-elf, as she continued to observe those strange movements. "There will be no need to use Charon''s Guidance with you."

    Placing the scythe back on her back, she waited for that shredder to come down on her.

    "So, are you done?" The splinters of the claws, broken after coming into contact with her, were alone enough to satisfy her curiosity. "Disappointing. Now it''s my turn."

    The left hand made its way into the beast lord''s stomach. First, it touched the thick, armored fur, and then penetrated deeper and deeper. Slipping like a fish through water, she peeled back the various internal parts until she realized she had achieved her goal.

    With a single, swift gesture, a hollow, tubular-shaped organ, whose length was close to four meters, was torn from the dwelling it belonged to.

    "What...?" The lord''s eyes widened. An unfamiliar emotion, a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, could be read in that pained expression.

    "[Burning Brand]!"

    Activating her martial art, Antilene began to twirl what had previously been the monster''s intestines, which watched in his last moments of life what had once been a part it considered inseparable from himself beginning to be coated in fiery sparks.

    The half-elf used her new weapon to rip through the air itself and strike with the sonic booms it gave life to both the other remaining amomongo and some elves who had remained nearby.

    The excess of that cruelty would have made even the most perverse soul shudder, but the only thing the half-elf could think of was the beauty with which the victims burst forth like little fireworks, radiating glowing flames across the vegetation.

    That action was repeated a few more times before the gut became unusable.

    Quickly wiping off the traces of ash that had stuck to the armor, the carnage could resume its course.

    "So, none of you are approaching?"

    The survivors kept looking at her, not daring to make a move. They were still countless, but that was all right. The night was long and there was time in abundance.

    A grunt broke that stalemate.

    At great speed, a boar-like creature, but covered entirely with plants of the most diverse species ran toward her.

    "And what are you?" Antilene asked, ready to stop its run by raising her right arm.

    The strange boar, however, stopped a few meters away from her, causing perplexity. Lianas began to sprout from its body and cling to the girl''s body, lifting her in midair.

    "Oh, that''s new," a genuinely astonished comment highlighted the surprise of that move. "But what are you going to do now?"

    The wild boar was not alone.

    A Jaguar? That would have been the correct guess, were it not for six snakes poking out of its back. From the feline''s motionless face, it seemed the reptiles were the ones controlling the body, in a parasitic bond.

    A giant rat, but with its body entirely covered with bird feathers. The sinuous shape brought to mind a chameleon, but much more grotesque. The way his limbs were moving, in the grip of what seemed like constant pain, was plain wrong.

    ''More lords of the forest? I''m lucky to have received such a warm welcome.''

    In unison, the two creatures emitted an acidic substance from their mouths that hit the half-elf full force.

    Those irritants and corrosive substances could have dissolved even the adamantium itself.

    A few drops landed on some nearby unfortunates, who began to see their skin dissolve, until only bones remained visible.

    Yet...

    No consequences.

    "[Castigating Strike]!"

    Spinning around, Antilene''s still-held body began to resemble an auger. Breaking the ligaments, she came down like a thunderbolt on her captor''s head, piercing his skull and killing him on the spot.

    Still smeared with brain fluids she still found herself the target of an attack. But it was not arrows this time, but wind blades that pelted her from the sky.

    ''Druid magic?''

    With a backward somersault, she dodged those blows with ease. A few meters were covered, when she realized that sharp spears were also beginning to emerge from underground, attempting to impale her.

    ''From above? I see, so there were more elves ready to strike me.''

    The two remaining lords began to pursue her. Waiting until they were inches from her position, she made a leap upward just before being run over. The two beasts collided with each other as the half-elf continued to gain height.

    Antilene surpassed the height of the most imposing trees, bursting into the starry sky. The moon, with its circular shape so perfect, was unnaturally beautiful.

    But the girl was not lost in its splendor, as the knowledge that she was not alone was her companion.

    Riding on giant eagles, some elves kept bombarding her with magic, taking advantage of her little mobility given by being suspended in the air.

    "[Rising Phoenix]!"

    They were guilty of naivet¨¦, however, if they truly believed that the half-elf had no way to be able to remedy that disadvantage.

    Hot wind swirled about her feet, lifting the girl skyward as flames began to flicker below, enabling her to reach the nearest enemy.

    "Dismount!"

    With a kick, she pushed away the elf standing on the eagle she had chosen as the cornerstone of her plan. After being left alone at the head of the animal, she let out a mighty cry into the ears of her new mount.

    "Yield!"

    The raptor''s senses began to go mad with terror after hearing that fiery command. In primal fear, he began to flap his wings faster and faster, colliding with the other birds in his vicinity.

    ''That will do.''

    Antilene went from eagle to eagle, knocking down the animal riders. What became of the elves? Perhaps it would be better not to know.

    Continuing on until she approached a specimen that towered above the others in size.

    ''The lord.''

    The elf at its command this time tried to mount a stouter resistance but, as happens when an unstoppable force meets an object that is all too easy to move, met the same sad end as her companions.

    Antilene easily disarmed her from the knife that had been pointed at her throat and stabbed it into the elf''s forehead, leaving her to bleed out.

    Left alone on the eagle, the Scripture''s ace took the two ends of the creature''s beak in her hands and began to pull until it snapped.

    They began to plummet. Exactly a moment before impact, Antilene swung away from the soon-to-be-corpse, landing gracefully on the earth that by now had taken on the scarlet color of blood.

    The eagle collided with one of the two remaining lords, the rat-shaped one, crushing it on impact.

    Death on the spot for both of them.

    The jaguar tried to attack, but the girl had already re-sheathed Charon''s Guidance and with a quick scythe cut the beast into two perfectly symmetrical parts.

    At this point, it would be fair to expect that the battle was over. Instead, it had just begun.

    "You can give up if you want. It would save me a lot of time."

    Tiredness was still an alien concept. It was just that it all seemed so ... futile. There was no trace of satisfaction in her soul or any other emotion that had justified continuing to fight.

    The elves hesitated. They knew they were surrounded by two fires.

    On one side was a seemingly invincible warrior, who did not seem to feel fatigue or pain. The difference in numbers was nothing more than an easily overcome annoyance.

    On the other was their king. The personification of all that was perverse in the world. The very idea that he could direct his fury toward them was enough to shake any form of reason.

    Who to choose?

    Was this not unfair?

    Thousands of lives depended on one choice.

    Thinking back to their families remaining captive in the capital made finding the solution easier than it would have been normal to expect.

    Having someone to fight for is a source of unexpected strength, but that same strength can easily turn into a curse that drags its beneficiaries into the abyss.

    "So, you want to continue." Disappointment? Rather, a realization.

    Antilene resumed her slaughter.

    What is the most efficient way to kill? The scythe continued to reap victims, 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.

    Was it an act of charity to guarantee a quick death, free of suffering? Or was it just a lie told to keep those from whom the most important thing was being taken from them from continuing to burden their consciences?

    Another lord tried to stop her race. It had the body and head of a rooster, with a large red crest, thorn-filled wings, and a snake-like tail.

    Initially very small, reaching to the half-elf''s knee, it quickly grew to cover her with its height. A glow started from his eyes, blue as the sky.

    ''A Galateo Bisso? If I''m not mistaken, they are related to the basilisk, so...''

    Turning on her side, she was grazed by that ray, which struck a nearby elf. The unfortunate man immediately turned to stone, without even having time to realize what a sad fate he had been condemned to.

    Antilene did not wait for a second attack. Seeing that by now it would be impossible to save him, she grabbed the new piece of rock and hurled it like a javelin at the monster.

    A shock wave cleaved the sound barrier and spread through the air. Fragments of rock scattered to the four winds, sticking into the still-living bodies of the elves.

    The Galateo Bisso Lord was dead.

    What is the cruelest way to kill?

    To leave someone bleeding to death, in pain? Or not even give the future victim time to realize the harsh reality that had been inflicted?

    Was there one particular organ that provoked a more intense reaction than the others? The heart was considered the most important part of the body, the source of all life and, especially, of love.

    Antilene tore up many of them, but she could not understand what was so special about that hollow-shaped mass of muscle that had inspired so many poets and bards over the centuries.

    Veins and arteries joined in a form devoid of elegance, enclosed in tissue so fragile as to be ridiculous. No sentiment capable of inflaming spirits or moving the most hardened souls.

    The brain?

    The center of knowledge and emotion. The Minotaur Sage claimed that it was from it that feelings such as fear, joy, and sadness originated.

    But every time she smashed a skull, or cut off a head, no difference was seen. Was it because death brought each of those poor minds to a state of origin? Or was it because the changes were so imperceptible that they could not be noticed in the heat of battle?

    The arms? The legs? No, even without them one could survive. What was it then? The soul? But what exactly was the soul?

    Was it present among all those limbs, those broken bones, those piles of butchered flesh? Hidden in some burrow, where it could not be seen?

    Why couldn''t she see it?

    ''All these lives¡­''

    Why was she doing all this? She wanted to kill her father. Why did she want to kill him? Ah, because she hated him. Of course. But why did she hate him? Because her mother had forced it on her. Of course. But why did she listen to her mother? Because she loved her. Did she love her? Of course. Or was it an illusion? That day when she had seen her dead, she had not cried. Of course.

    ''¡­Are mine to tread on. Mine to toy with!''

    Now there were two Antilene.

    The first there, in that dirty and poisonous forest. Where the smell of blood mingled with the scent of plants and flowers. That iron aroma, so penetrating, awakened primal instincts, believed buried in the arc of evolution. They knocked at the door of the soul, with violent insistence, finally claiming the longed-for freedom.

    If before there was methodically in her execution, now they were like hail spinning at a whim, and whoever it touched, it touched.

    The other observed the former from afar, in a space where matter and dream blurred. She did not judge or comment. Trivial excuses such as "they are my enemies" or "it is the nature of war" were hypocrisies distant from her conception of sanity.

    She recorded, that she did. And memorized. In such a way that someone, over the years, would be able to remember what had happened exactly that day.

    The shapes became blurred. Men and women, young and old, lost their differences after there was nothing left of them.

    She had become Death.

    Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

    The Death of stone, the Death of snow, the Death that just wants someone.

    Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

    The Death that gives, the Death that takes, the Death that steals, the Death that yields.

    Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

    The Death that passes, the Death that stands, the Death that comes, the Death that went.

    Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

    Death that comes with its pain, and envelops everything with its blaze. Death, queen without scepter and crown, Death! Death! Death herself!

    Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.

    "Was it worth it?"

    A voice interrupted her from her trance. Antilene turned around, to identify it. It had an indistinct shape, vaguely resembling a human shadow.

    "Yes," she replied. The bodies at her feet, as numerous as grains of sand in the desert, had achieved that peace she so longed for. "I wouldn''t hesitate to do it again."

    "Look at these corpses, don''t they make you feel any pity? Don''t you think they deserved better?" Said the voice, with an inquisitive tone. "How many generations must pass before their blood no longer bathes the earth or their bones no longer nourish the soil? All this for your revenge?"

    "It doesn''t matter if not enough flowers can be planted to cover this cursed land," laying her gaze on that carnage, the girl''s conviction did not waver. "Even if I have to become the rotting mud that will poison this world, I will put an end to it."

    "If you are so convinced," now the shadow was beginning to take shape, eventually acquiring human form. Antilene had no trouble recognizing it. How could she? It was wearing the same Wind God''s armor as her own. "Then kill me and prove you are ready for anything."

    But it was not Antilene.

    Although the resemblance was unimpeachable, the shadow''s hair did not have the two-tone of the half-elf. Instead, it was a dark black, deep as night. Black was also the color of the eyes, which so many times in the past had concealed in their darkness an uncontrollable rage.

    "Let me hug you for the first time in my life."

    Faine spread her arms apart, to initiate the gesture that should be spontaneous for a mother.

    Antilene hesitated.

    "Can''t you hug your mother? Until a few seconds ago you were so confident. But look at you now. The same frightened child who flees at the slightest difficulty. Is that really how I raised you?"

    The desire to retort, "You didn''t raise me at all," was taking over her entire body. But Antilene remained silent.

    Charon''s Guidance unfurled.

    "Kill me with my weapon. Is there anything you can really say is yours? No, you cannot. You are mine. Nothing but a reflection of me. An instrument to perpetuate my will."

    Antilene approached.

    "Kill me! And prove to everyone that I was right. That you are nothing but a puppet who has never detached the strings from its puppeteer!"

    They looked into each other''s eyes.

    ''So empty...''

    The monster that had populated her nightmares was no more. The one hiding behind those tired, drooping irises was just a simple woman like so many others. Faine''s face was also no longer the same. The youthful, arrogant air had been replaced by wrinkled pits that furrowed her cheeks and forehead.

    Her lips rippled, struggling to maintain a smile.

    "...What are you waiting for?"

    The scythe drew a mark on her neck. Blood began to gush.

    The walls of reality tightened. Encapsulated in a hole of a few centimeters, Faine and Antilene were left alone.

    The liquid continued to pour out and out, rapidly filling the confined space, until Antilene could no longer breathe.

    Until reality returned to its place.

    ''A dream? No, an illusion.''

    Coming back to herself, Antilene slowly opened her eyelids.

    Piles and piles of lifeless bodies were gathered like piles of dry leaves in the forest.

    "You have awakened, then." A deep, rich voice of understanding welcomed her to reality. "I didn''t think it would take you so long."

    The half-elf was not shocked by what her interlocutor was. With a body covered in scales as green as emeralds, and the fierceness of members of its species, the dragon brought its claws closer to her face.

    Before Antilene could react, however, he made an unusual gesture.

    He bowed.

    "I welcome the new God of this world."

    That day, the pantheon of the continent would know a new member in its ranks.

    A God who had achieved immortality in blood.

    A...

    Chapter 25

    God of War

 Chapter 26: Of Heroes and Legends

    Chapter 26

    Upper Water Month, 24th day, 10.00

    Of Heroes and Legends

    "Marquis Cotton?"

    Draudillon called the first name on that endless list in her hands. Childish hands gripped those pieces of paper tightly, for fear that they might slip through her fingers.

    "Yes, your majesty." A youthful but unexpectedly serious-looking man answered.

    "You are assigned control of the lands of the now-deceased Marquis Grigore," trying to maintain a semblance of authority in that slender little body she was in, the queen assumed her strictest expression. The contrast between her figure and appearance was beyond rationalizing. "Of course, this is only a loan granted until the state of emergency is over and the Crown can calmly find someone more suitable. Don''t get too attached."

    "It will be done, my queen." The young man replied, with a bow that seemed as phony and worthless as a chocolate coin. "When the time comes, I will gladly give way to a capable person."

    The smile he sported, however, betrayed much more treacherous intentions. But the queen of the Draconic Kingdom played the part of the simpleton, to avoid letting on that she was aware of her vassal''s true intentions.

    ''Well, we are short of capable people. So, with the risk of concentrating too much power in the hands of one man, I''ll have to put on a good face.''

    If any descendants of the late Marquis Grigore were found, that would make it easier in the future to return those estates to their rightful owner. The other nobles, after all, would never have allowed a legitimate heir to find himself dispossessed of what was rightfully his.

    Not out of some semblance of camaraderie, but out of simple fear that someday the same might happen to them.

    But lately, Draudillon had been all too lucky, and she knew all too well that Lady Luck is more capricious than a spoiled child.

    "The office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs has prepared a list of officials suitable for the administration of your new territory," the queen''s professionalism was impeccable, nonetheless. Perhaps it would have been better to resume her original appearance, but to see an adorable little girl giving orders to a group of overconfident men was indescribably satisfying. As well as entertaining. "They are all capable men and women who will make the work entrusted to you less onerous."

    "And as for the defense of these new territories?" The Marquis'' question was all but unexpected.

    But even if she had been taken by surprise, Draudillon would have had no trouble knowing what to reply.

    "The defense of the reassigned territories will be the responsibility of the new owner," after all, there was no other possible answer. The Royal Army couldn''t be spread more than it already was. "Of course, should the need arise, the Crown will do everything to ensure military aid." But with the resources they currently had, the hope that eventuality would never come true was hard to die.

    "The personal troops of my household will not be sufficient to protect such a large territory," the young nobleman lamented, finally letting out some of his true character. Wasn''t Draudillon the little girl in the room? "To protect the borders from demi-humans attacks, well-trained troops are required, with superior equipment than average. In addition, there is also internal security to consider."

    "If the task is too onerous, I can always entrust the rich mines of silver and other precious materials found on Lord Grigore''s old lands to a more suitable person," the queen''s gracious smile concealed an insinuation aimed straight at the young marquis'' pride. "It is the task of the nobility to protect the villagers. Adventurers and workers exist precisely for that. I don''t have to remind you that the immense powers granted to you are counterbalanced by the duties that are to be expected of people in your position."

    Draudillon trusted that the lure of the riches that lurked in the lands they had recently recaptured would prompt that new nobility to defend their new territories with particular diligence, for fear of seeing that investment reduced to smoke.

    Managing that wealth personally would have been a better alternative, but at the moment the royal coffers were on the verge of being completely empty and they did not have sufficient means to make the most of the situation.

    Instead, nobles like Marquis Cotton, whose estates had not been touched by the war yet, still had plenty of personal wealth that could be put to good use.

    Of course, in the long run, that decision could have significantly diminished the power of the Crown.

    But rather than increasing her own personal power, Draudillon had the welfare of her subjects at heart. And with all its faults, the nobility of the Draconic Kingdom had long understood that the only way to survive the Beastmen''s attacks was through cooperation. Being in a state of complete danger at least made it for people easier to watch the biggest picture.

    ''Looking to the future is a luxury that only those who can glimpse that future with sharpness can afford.''

    The queen maintained her composure as she waited for a response in silence.

    "I accept. I will not disappoint the expectations you have placed on me."

    Fortunately, that young man understood that the advantages, if well exploited, could outweigh the disadvantages.

    "Good," Draudillon arched her lips and widened her eyes to show how cute the form she had taken could be. The marquis blushed slightly, showing that her smile had broken through. "I know you won''t." ''And if you did, it would be nothing new.''

    Marquis Cotton took his leave with a bow, leaving only Draudillon and the prime minister in the throne room.

    "Ahhhhhhhh," sighed the little queen. "How many more of these meetings to reassign the lands are left, Magone?"

    "You must see Duke Felix and Baron Matusa about the management of the territories of the now-deceased Marquis Lawton. Also," the minister displayed a sword with a bejeweled handle, the tip of which was still sharp as if it had never known battle. "There is the knighting of members of two teams of adventurers: the Elephant''s Tusk and Sweet Dreams."

    "I would prefer not to award honorable titles to people who protect their home only for a fee," Draudillon''s lament showed a poorly concealed contempt for what she considered only more expensive mercenaries. "But I suppose giving them one more reason to fight isn''t bad. Rather, how are the reforms for the Ministry of Magic going?"

    "Slowly, your majesty," why was she hardly surprised? "The most pressing problem is the lack of suitable personnel to teach the younger generation."

    Finding talented magic casters was difficult. Finding talented magic casters who were also capable teachers was an even more difficult task.

    Retired adventurers were usually the best choice, but the Draconic Kingdom currently had a shortage of such individuals.

    "We have no choice but to look outside our kingdom," the queen noted, though not entirely happy with the situation. Far from it. "The Empire and the Re-Estize Kingdom have numerous practitioners of magic that we can convince to switch to our side. Especially the latter. Don''t mind promising a few titles of nobility if it would help the cause. The common people lose all reason with the prospect of being called baron, duke, or your highness."

    "It will be done," Magone replied. "May I proceed with bringing in the other guests?"

    "Yes," a deep exhalation followed by a prolonged sigh of exhaustion. "The sooner we start, the sooner we finish. I look forward to being able to return to a look that is not an object of derision from the other rulers."

    "I''m sure none of the other monarchs have that opinion of you." A lie with good intentions was still a lie.

    "And I am sure that the idea of seeing myself in this condition is one of the most beloved sources of amusement for that presumptuous Jircniv," the young emperor of Baharut''s barely restrained grin was still etched in the queen''s mind like a carving in stone. "But let''s not get caught up in grudges. There is still much to be done."

    The rest of the day proceeded without any particular noteworthy events. Besides the usual administrative quarrels and knightly ceremonies that had anything but the pageantry of legends, Draudillon had to deal with the demands of the Minister of Economy and the Grand Marshal.

    At this point, she was so accustomed to having a headache that she almost didn''t notice it.

    By the time evening fell, the queen was ready to retire to her rooms. Her bed, the sole object of her desires.

    "There is still one guest missing, your majesty," Magone crushed her hopes as easily as a cruel child crushes a helpless ant. "The emissary of the Theocracy is here to see you."

    "Urgh," the image of a man with short blond hair, covered with an arrogant air that encircled him like a royal cloak brought revulsion to the queen''s mind. "I detest that Nigun. Every time he speaks it seems as if we are watching a prolonged sermon by a fanatic who has made religion his only reason for living. And the way he looks at me... He doesn''t even try to conceal his contempt. There is only one man that disgusts me more."

    "A trait he shares with many of his fellow citizens," the prime minister pointed out, handing her a cup of steaming coffee that one of the attendants had prepared. "Pardon my rudeness, but I would rather have the symbol of my manhood crushed by a pair of sharp and long heels than listen to the rantings about the supremacy of the human race from some of the priests of the Theocracy."

    A soft laugh escaped Draudillon''s mouth. Few people had as little faith as Magone, but that was one reason why the queen considered him a valuable ally.

    A cool mind that was not carried away by the passions of faith was an appreciable quality in a right-hand man.

    "I would not have used those exact words," sipping the coffee vaguely dampened the little woman''s-tired mood. "But I can''t blame you. Well, for people of little faith like us, those sermons are just words thrown to the wind. But it is undeniable that they bring comfort to many in the most difficult times."

    The Draconic Kingdom did not have a state religion. Areas farther east, bordering Draak Lake had been influenced by the Theocracy and tended to worship the Six Great Gods, while those farther north were closer to the faith of the Four. Nevertheless, there were countless other cults within the kingdom, free to profess their faith as long as they abided by the nation''s laws.

    Draudillon herself was not religious and tended to observe a set of ancient rituals and traditions that had been handed down to her by her ancestor, the Brightness Dragon Lord. Except those that consisted in flying for hours in the sky or burning fierce flames. Those were difficult.

    "Anyway," Magone continued, putting aside those findings about religion as one would put away a garment in the drawer. "Today''s emissary is not the captain of the Sunlight Scriptures."

    "Oh," the queen was pleasantly surprised. One less migraine that day. "Who is it?"

    "Let me bring him in."

    The prime minister signaled to one of his assistants, who hurried in response to open the throne room doors.

    A confident-looking young man-he could not have been more than twenty-five years old-entered, sporting a charming smile that could make men and women alike fall at his feet with ease.

    His hair, enclosed in a bob that resembled a crown, was bright blond, and his scarlet-red eyes were shaped like a bloody half-moon.

    He wore an orange-colored tunic, with a particularly expensive fabric judging by the gold trimmings that adorned it.

    "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Queen Draudillon." The young boy bowed, not taking his eyes off her. It was at that moment that the queen noticed that he wore a set of rings on his fingers, which sparkled like sapphires. "I beg your pardon if I cannot share my name, but state protocols require that it remain secret until deemed necessary to share it."

    The woman instantly understood the unit to which this charming young man belonged. "This is no cause for apology. I fully understand the exigencies that justify this decision. May I offer something to you and your comrades as an excuse for the time you have been forced to wait?"

    The young man was indeed not alone.

    At his side was a girl who looked completely identical to him, prowling the hall like a bored feline. Twins, probably.

    Draudillon noticed that under the robe she wore a sharp shape could be glimpsed, which very likely belonged to a weapon such as a stiletto or short sword. Normally it would have been an unforgivable outrage to bring something dangerous to a private audience with a member of the royal family, but the queen had to overlook it.

    Such was the delicacy of her position.

    The other was a wrinkled-skinned man with a stern expression adorning a bony face hollowed by wrinkles. He remained completely still, and his presence could have been described as ghostly.

    "No, there will be no need for that," the emissary of the Theocracy reassured her. "We only came here to leave a report on our latest exploits. We will leave it with your prime minister and then we will gladly leave."

    So why meet her in person? Did they want to get a clear picture of the woman who commanded that kingdom on the verge of collapse? To mock her?

    Whatever their intention, she would not let herself be trapped like a mouse by the cat.

    "There was no need to wait so long just to deliver it in person. You might as well have left it in the hands of one of my prime minister''s assistants."

    "Oh, we wanted to deliver it to you ourselves," replied the young man, calm as the sea in the early morning. "Besides, we have received strict orders to pay due respects to the ruler of the place where we are to operate in the coming weeks."

    ''A gesture of respect? Or just a way of letting me know that it is indifferent to what I think, since the Theocracy has already made up its mind? Not that I can complain, after all.''

    There was no doubt that those three in front of him belonged to the Black Scriptures.

    The Black Scriptures.

    Surrounded by a mystical aura, their very existence was a whisper lost in history.

    A team that gathered around itself those who could claim the title of hero. The diamonds whose brilliance put to shame all the other crystals.

    Stolen story; please report.

    Men and women who had made it their mission sacrifice for a greater cause.

    In the morning, they would find tribulations.

    In the afternoon, their blood would be spilled.

    In the evening, shadows would give them relief.

    Night, dreamless.

    For their fight would never end.

    The banishment of the demon Sovrani-Vud¨´, the killing of the Giant Werewolf Hopkins, or the destruction of the Unholy City of Kabala were just some of the numerous stories she had heard in her life. But who knew if they were true?

    Until then, even Draudillon, who had numerous times dealt with the Theocracy''s special units in the past, had believed that their existence was just an exaggeration. Mere propaganda to enforce the cause of the faith of the Six.

    After all, the extraordinary existence that was known as a hero was more unique than rare. Many nations could barely boast of one, such as the paladin captain of the Holy Kingdom or the imperial mage of the Baharut Empire.

    Cerabrate, as much as it annoyed her to admit it, was the closest thing the Draconic Kingdom could boast.

    But the pressure those three exerted by their mere presence left no room for doubt.

    In comparison to them, the Holy Knight lost to her eyes the luster that he was renewed for, only appearing as a dusty and obsolete old armor devoid of any value.

    "Prime Minister Magone, please receive the report that our friends in the Theocracy were kind enough to send us."

    After proclaiming her order, the subordinate approached Slaine''s small delegation so that he could take in his hands the scroll that the young man was offering.

    After he had returned to his place at the queen''s side, Magone began to read it.

    "Well?" Curiosity was devouring Draudillon, who could not contain the agitation that was taking hold of her. Her fingers gripped tightly the throne on which she sat as she waited anxiously for an answer.

    "I..." Magone seemed about to say something, but stopped himself. Instead, he continued to read and reread those papers, unable to hide his astonishment. "Is it true what is written here?" He asked, turning to the delegate.

    "All true."

    "...I can''t believe it."

    Draudillon, realizing that if she kept waiting for an accurate answer then all night would be spent in the throne room, had the prime minister pass the report to her.

    The words began to be processed by her mind as her expression changed more and more rapidly to one of bewilderment.

    "It says here that you liberated four cities in a single week..."

    "It would have taken us less if someone hadn''t wasted time letting their beasts rest," commented the girl, who cast a glare with her eyes at the probable twin, only to be promptly ignored.

    "I can assure Your Highness that everything that has been written corresponds to the truth," the young man grinned proudly, aware of the extraordinary nature of the result. "We expect to liberate at least half of the territories under the control of the demi-humans within a month''s time."

    The queen could hardly believe her ears.

    "I... I don''t know what to say." It was true. Being speechless was not a feeling she was used to. Not entirely unpleasant, though.

    "Don''t say anything," the young man comforted her, with a smile as warm as a hug. "Now that we are here, you have nothing to fear."

    For a moment the desire to run and embrace those emissaries blazed in Draudillon''s heart, as all her inner strength had to be brought to bear not to put on such an unseemly spectacle for a person of her rank.

    "Thank you," were the only words she managed to put together.

    "We will get in touch soon."

    The three of them bowed again -the girl begrudgingly- and then took their leave.

    When they were left alone, Draudillon turned to Magone.

    "Can you believe it? A chosen unit was able to do alone in a few days what was impossible for entire armies."

    "Quantity is a quality of its own," murmured the prime minister, still in disbelief. "Only today do I realize how disingenuous those words are."

    Upper Water Month, 24th day, 10.00

    Aeneas walked around the capital of the Draconic Kingdom with newfound lightheartedness.

    The long hair enclosed in a ponytail and the divine equipment hidden by his worldly clothes should not have made him stand out too much to the populace.

    That was the idea, at least.

    But not a few steps could be taken, that girls and women of all ages began to bother him.

    "Um, are you free now?"

    "Would you like to go get something together?"

    "Come home with me, I know the perfect way to have fun."

    Aeneas always replied in the same way, "No, thank you." And with a false smile, he quickly walked away, without turning back.

    Each of them did not present the right characteristics for a Godkin''s future wife.

    Not only were they not from the Theocracy, but those mere villagers with puny, slender hips did not carry bloodlines suitable for passing on his lineage. How could these small and thin women be expected to give birth to his heirs?

    Finding a suitable mate was not a choice dictated by love, after all, but by logic.

    Feelings were not covered in his duties.

    That is why he did not waste a single second of his precious free time mingling with girls who were not worthy of his attention.

    ''It is pleasant to be alone for once.''

    The Black Scriptures had separated momentarily, just long enough to enjoy some rest in the capital before resuming their hunt for nonhumans.

    Not having to look after them had been a small blessing, one he would savor every moment of.

    This was not the first time he had entered the Draconic Kingdom, but he had never visited one of its cities before.

    He wandered around for a few hours, looking for something that caught his attention.

    In the course of his travels, one thing he had discovered about humanity.

    Humans tended to repeat the same organizational patterns, with varying degrees of difference.

    Division into merchant and military castes, legislative systems based on the prevention and suppression of disputes, and governments ruled by single individuals or a select few.

    ''These patterns are repeated persistently, but I wonder if it is due to some kind of indirect influence of Theocracy or is it something inherent in the human race.''

    It was natural that the first human nation had led the way for those that followed, thus a kind of soft power was exercised to direct the various human societies to caste division in order to make the best use of the limited classes that human beings could acquire in their lives.

    Experiments that had not always been as successful as hoped.

    ''Moving away from this part of the continent perhaps it would be possible to find human nations that, breaking away from the shadow of Theocracy, were able to develop innovative systems. Come to think of it, a nation of wyvern rides is in the vicinity of the Draconic Kingdom, perhaps we could find interesting information there.''

    The discovery of new methods of combat was driven not only by curiosity but also by war requirements. Learning new combat tactics and the operation of new job levels would benefit both the Black Scriptures and the Theocracy.

    Lost in his thoughts, the young captain arrived at the gates of an inn with a gaudy sign.

    ''The Inn at the Edge of the World.''

    Despite the lofty name, it would have been more accurate to call the place a gaudy shack whose walls remained standing only by an unnatural force.

    The shining sun high in the sky, however, foretold lunchtime, and there were no other suitable places nearby to be able to end the hunger cramps that were beginning to set in.

    Aeneas threw open the dust-scarred door, finding as a welcoming committee a pungent smell of beer and alcohol.

    To his surprise, the place was filled with men and women whose fat laughter and bawdy jokes lent a feeling of amenity and fraternity to those four walls.

    It was like returning to a familiar place after a long journey, to discover, with a hint of relief, that even time had failed to bring change.

    "Welcome," the innkeeper, a wiry man with a welcoming smile, greeted him as soon as he noticed his presence. "How can I help you?"

    Aeneas, who was not used to all that deafening noise, was on the verge of turning back.

    "I would like a table, please."

    Still, something had caught his attention.

    Away from the tables, a small wooden platform had been set up, barely able to accommodate an adult person.

    "Please take a seat." The man seated him in a vacant space a few meters away from the stage. "What can I get you?"

    "The dish of the day will be sufficient."

    "So, mutton accompanied by salad and tomatoes. As a drink?"

    "Water will be enough."

    "Perfect," the innkeeper marked his order on a notebook he carried with him. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

    "Yes, there is one thing," Aeneas replied, driven by curiosity. "Is there any important event today?"

    "Oh, you are talking about that ''beautifully'' mounted stage that catches the eye as soon as one enters," the man could not hide a hint of embarrassment. "We don''t usually have events at this little inn. But when the Lady of Tales specially requests a place to perform, you can''t refuse her. Not that I''m complaining about it. This place has never been so full."

    "Lady of Tales?" The name rang no bell with the young captain, who now only wanted to gratify his desire for knowledge. "This is the first time I''ve heard that name."

    "A foreigner?"

    "Let''s say so."

    "I see," the innkeeper, who judging by his age had accumulated years of experience, knew instantly that this was not the time to ask for more. A lucky thing, since getting rid of him would have been a hassle that Aeneas would have gladly avoided. "I think very few in the entire Draconic Kingdom do not know her name or reputation."

    "Judging by the pseudonym one would say a bard," indeed, there were very few professions that came to mind upon hearing that title. "What''s so special about her? A heavenly voice? Or a skill with instruments that takes one''s breath away?"

    Aeneas doubted that there could be anyone in that forgotten corner of the world with musical skills to rival Divine Chant.

    But if so, he would have to find a way to convince that woman to join the ranks of the Theocracy. Unfortunately, persuasion was not his forte.

    "No, none of that. In fact, I would say that her voice borders on off-key, and the way she strums the lute is almost amateurish."

    So it was just a grotesque show to mock a person lacking in remarkable abilities? The perspective did not enhance Aeneas.

    "But," the man continued, his eyes shining with deep admiration. "That''s not why her performances gather so many people."

    "For what then?"

    "It''s the stories she tells."

    "What''s so special about them?" Now confusion was completely a part of him.

    "You''ll understand soon enough," winked the innkeeper. "Now, with your permission, the other customers are waiting for me. A waiter will soon arrive with your order."

    And with that said he left, to attend to the new customers who kept coming in.

    Before long, the place was packed. The inn was not made to accommodate all those people.

    Thanking Surshana, Aeneas did not have to share his seat with anyone, but the distance separating him from the other tables arranged nicely was so small as to make the air suffocating.

    The thought of leaving that place as soon as possible began to form, but by now the desire to understand what was so special about that Lady of Tales was too strong.

    He, therefore, ate the dishes he had ordered-they were nothing special- calmly.

    And waited.

    After a few minutes, a woman made her entrance on the stage.

    She wore discarded clothes and clutched in her hands a lute with a detached string. From a red bonnet sprouted wisps of straw-colored hair.

    The facial features were so ordinary as to be painful to look at. Brown eyes and a potato nose, with thin lips similar to countless other commoners the Black Scripture captain had dealt with during his brief stay.

    While it is true that you cannot judge a book by its cover, the first impact had been anything but impressive.

    "It is a pleasure to have so many people gathered here to listen to me," even the voice, glaucous and nasal, could hardly be described as pleasant. "I don''t pretend to change your lives with my modest art, but I hope I can stir at least one emotion in you."

    Yet, the din that had seemed incessant until a few moments before had now disappeared, abruptly replaced by a silence that Aeneas knew all too well.

    The same religious silence that accompanied the Cardinals before they began a religious service, which only the purest devotion can give birth to.

    "So, let us begin." The woman began to strum the instrument she carried with her, with modest results. "Today''s story is entitled The Fourteenth Hero."

    ''What?'' Aeneas thought in astonishment.

    "Long ago, in a world of yore,

    there lived a little goblin.

    Not wanting to live in fear anymore,

    he made up his mind to become a hero.

    At the time, good and evil had lost balance,

    for creatures whose name was too frightening to be shared

    were spreading their treachery

    from southeast to southwest, from northwest to northeast.

    Luckily for us,

    some said no.

    And joined in,

    to put an end to it.

    Our goblin, he was one of them.

    But where will was plentiful

    talent is not as generous.

    I sing for you this tale,

    so that you may remember

    those whom time has lost sight of."

    An ungainly chant caught the attention of the spectators. Though lacking in harmony, there was something in those words that knew how to caress the strings of the heart.

    "And thus began his journey,

    through fallen empires, enchanted valleys,

    boundless seas, unexplored cities,

    snow-capped mountains, lost places.

    Meeting those who

    history would remember as myths.

    Though the body was feeble,

    courage was that of a giant.

    Fear was always present,

    in seeing struggles

    that with their fervor

    were changing wilderness.

    But where the sword cannot reach,

    the heart can succeed.

    Even if you are small,

    you can be of help to all.

    Just set your soul on the goal,

    and dreams can come true."

    ''Some charm effects? But it should have no effect on me. A talent?''

    Aeneas had entertained the idea of unsheathing the spear he had stowed under his clothes and putting an end to that charade, killing her and everyone present.

    An ungodly creature like a goblin part of the legendary hero group? Inconceivable.

    But against his better judgment, he realized that he longed to know the end of that story.

    "You may wonder,

    how did that little goblin

    get into that legendary group.

    That, I don''t know.

    Maybe he was an outstanding cook,

    after all,

    even heroes have to eat.

    Maybe he was amusing,

    after all,

    even heroes have to laugh.

    Maybe he was ordinary,

    after all,

    even heroes must remember their mortality.

    What do I know, I will tell you.

    It was a starless night,

    only the light of the moon in the sky,

    when the Pestilence King began his assault.

    Hidden as he did every time battle broke out,

    the goblin incited his comrades.

    Sword blows, arrow shots,

    The enemy would not yield.

    Fire magics, water magics,

    the undead were scattering in a sea of bones.

    The Leader was imparting his orders,

    as the battle grew more and more heated.

    The knight in the raven armor gave allegiance to his heritage,

    fighting like a demon out of the depths of hell.

    The gentle giant of the air protected his comrades,

    while he kept the skies safe from the hordes of pestilence.

    The little enchantress cast spells,

    her arsenal seemed to have no end.

    The elf guarded against the darkness,

    letting the shadows conceal his blows.

    The hours passed, and the goblin continued to remain safe

    in the underground hiding place, he had dug.

    The weariness was great, but now only the Pestilence King remained.

    His skeletal body, reeking of death, still stood.

    The Leader was on the verge of triumph.

    His sword on the verge of dealing the final blow.

    But only the goblin noticed

    that they had been the victim of a deception.

    The Pestilence King was about to cast magic,

    which would have killed their leader for sure.

    What to do?

    The answer was obvious to his eyes.

    He came out of his hut, and let out a scream,

    distracting the two contenders.

    The Leader stopped his run.

    The Pestilence King cast his magic.

    A thunderbolt departed from his fingers, striking the little goblin.

    But his sacrifice had not been in vain.

    Having allowed the Leader the time he needed to deliver the killing blow.

    And so, one of the most infamous Evil Deities met its end.

    But the little goblin did not die unhappy,

    knowing that in the end,

    he had been worthy to be called a hero."

    When the story was finished, the Lady of Tales received a warm round of applause, to which she responded with a bow devoid of excessive gestures.

    Aeneas remained composed in his seat, still uncertain of what to do.

    Could this have been considered blasphemy? Or was it just an innocent, albeit dangerous, tavern story?

    The look on his face betrayed his feelings, as the Lady of Tales, evidently concerned that she had left a disgruntled spectator, approached him.

    "Is something wrong?" She asked, sitting down beside him. Several others of the inn''s guests had tried to approach but the innkeeper, perhaps at the request of the Lady herself, had managed to carve out a private space for the two. "Didn''t you like the story?"

    "It''s just a bunch of nonsense," he replied coldly. "All the history books agree that the Pestilence King was defeated by the Leader of the Thirteen Heroes alone, without anyone''s help. You just added a fanciful backstory to flesh out a meaningless story. A goblin becoming a hero, impossible."

    "History books are certainly the best way to learn about the past," commented the Lady of Stories, with a smile that seemed to mock him. "But if not studied carefully they can become poison of the mind. Tell me, do you know that all the stories we have of the thirteen heroes date back several decades after the fight against the God Dragon? Do you think scholars had a certain way of knowing what happened, without being there? Especially after the fight against the Evil Deities caused such a profound change on this part of the continent."

    "And how can you be sure that your story matches the truth?" He asked, irked by the conversation. Still, there was no way he had gotten up to leave. Not yet.

    "Let me explain how a legend is born. Stories are told starting with people like me, who wield a disused instrument to try to tell something to gladden the souls of poor people." The Lady of Tales looked him fixedly in the eye, with a strength that Aeneas would have described as magnetic. There was something strange about the woman. "Tales are alive. They change, grow and wither. The narrative you know of the thirteen heroes is just the most successful one, but that doesn''t mean it corresponds to really how the facts happened. And even if it did, it wouldn''t matter. When history becomes myth, silly concepts like truth lose their importance."

    "And why would this fable you told matter? It''s just silly propaganda for the demi-humans."

    "You can''t understand it, can you?" Compassion? How dared she feel that foolish sentiment toward him? "I hope one day you can turn around the way you see things."

    "I know what the truth is," a resolute conviction, child of an uncompromising upbringing. "The thirteen heroes were the champions of the humanoid races. They proved their greatness to the other races by driving evil out of these lands."

    "Surely those heroes have rendered great service. But are you truly so convinced about their number? Don''t you think it''s strange that only humanoid races decided to unite to fight what was a danger to all?"

    Aeneas did not answer.

    "Didn''t you ever think that there might be more heroes than those handed down in history?"

    "These are mere inferences of yours, unfounded."

    More than thirteen heroes? Conspiracies of a sick mind, detached from reality.

    "I see," the Lady of Stories had stood up, heading toward her admirers. Evidently, the conversation was over. "Just one last thing. Why did you listen to my story until the end?"

    "Simple curiosity."

    The woman smiled, then disappeared from the crowd.

    The Black Scripture captain left the inn, never to return.

 Chapter 27: After the Storm

    Chapter 27

    After the storm

    Upper Water Month, 24th day, 05.00

    "I feel like throwing up!"

    Agravaine brought a hand to her mouth. The pungent smell of a corpse danced on the tip of her nose, an unbearable disgust growing like a lovingly tended plant.

    "What happened here?" She asked Logem, aware that he too was groping in the dark as she was.

    It was not merely a desire to gratify her curiosity, but a way to try to rationalize the hideous spectacle that stood in her sight.

    Their scouts had reported serious turmoil sweeping through the forest, but neither of them -or at least, not her- expected to be confronted with a display that looked like a vivid representation of a gruesome nightmare.

    Evasha''s Forest was also known as the Sea of Trees, each small plant coming together to create an endless ocean of green.

    But now the drops that gave their title to their home had changed, the green of nature had been replaced by a dull red, unified with the land as if it had been part of it from the origin.

    "I don''t know," unlike Agravaine, Logem did not seem particularly troubled by having to make his way from that road paved with lifeless bodies. On the contrary, his gait concealed an excitement that overflowed like a raging river. "But I can''t wait to find out."

    "...Aren''t you disgusted by all this?" With any ordinary person, the question would have come across as so trivial as to border on the ridiculous.

    "...No." But Logem was no ordinary person. "It''s just war. You should be used to it by now."

    If being normal meant being able to be unshaken by that sight, Agravaine thanked the gods that she was endowed with a mindset that strayed from the ordinary.

    "Don''t all these bodies pity you?" Trying not to pay attention to all those dead bodies she heard calling to her was difficult. So difficult that she fondled the idea of going back to safety.

    "No."

    A response as cold as a winter night.

    "Do you not feel your heart weep for them?"

    "No."

    "If you could change their fate, would you do it?"

    "...Yes, I would." That hesitation, was it a sign of truth or a lie his brother had imposed on himself? "But only if it didn''t get in the way of my goals."

    Agravaine decided not to continue with her questions. Ever since they had decided to work together, Logem''s motives had been as clear as the morning sky.

    She had always seen their relationship as a perfect balance of heart and logic for the fulfillment of their purpose.

    Only, up to that point, she had always taken their roles for granted.

    The woman, lost in silly sentimentalisms. The man, who repressed feelings to seize victory.

    But perhaps what she considered logic devoid of compassion was just a mask of soul-consuming overwhelming passion.

    "This is it," Logem distracted her from her thoughts, leading her to a part of the clearing where the geoformation of the ground had been inconceivably altered.

    As if the passage of centuries had been concentrated in that place for a few moments, then released the fruit of its pain in quick moments defying the laws of creation.

    Trees that until a few moments before defied the sky with their branches were now sprawled on the ground like the most common of weeds. The stems of their trunks were colored in hues that brought to mind the idea of chaos, an atrocious madness that had made disfigured limbs and regret-filled screams a child''s game.

    "It''s him," Logem''s voice betrayed an emotion that Agravaine thought was completely foreign to her brother. Joy mixed with newfound hope. A seed that had sprouted in a span of time beyond all common reason, but was now there, as full of life as any other living creature. "He really exists."

    But to whom was he referring?

    A few meters away from them stood with regal splendor an ancestral creature, whose features were so recognizable that as soon as he brought them into focus, Agravaine could not help but let out a cry of surprise.

    "But that''s..."

    "Yes," Logem was now sporting a toothy smile, brimming with satisfaction. "But look closer."

    Dragons were legendary figures, capable of blotting out the sun itself with their mightiness and adumbrating the brightest light with the unfolding of their wings.

    It was the first time Agravaine had seen one, and it was the first time she realized that perhaps the stories were not as exaggerated as one might have believed.

    Yet ... now that the light of dawn better defined the contours of the scene and night retreated to its hiding place, a new astonishment replaced the previous one.

    "That dragon is on its knees."

    A ridiculous statement, inconceivable in its folly, but one that was matched by reality. The titan was bent over himself with his head turned toward a new figure.

    "That''s right," her brother replied as he began to approach. A careless attitude, totally different from what he had accustomed her to in the years. "Let''s go."

    The figure was beginning to take shape. Outfitted in armor whose white attracted the sun''s rays, reflecting its glare with a seraphic light, he wielded a pitch-black scythe whose material was unlike any the woman had ever seen before. Adamantium? Or something even superior?

    Around the stranger, bodies that were distorted, barely recognizable, adorned the landscape with their disgusting presence.

    It was as if a scholar had desecrated each of those individual lives in search of an ancestral secret about existence, heedless of how deeply his scalpel cut and without any respect for the sacredness of existence.

    Anger was the only emotion Agravaine could feel at that moment.

    The elf had thought she had begun to get used to the smell of death, but now that stench had reached a new connotation, one that made just being there an unbearable torture.

    "[Forest''s gift] [Nature''s blessing]."

    The buffs she had cast brought a modicum of relief, but they were of little help. Barely enough palliative to replace medicine.

    The dragon took notice of them. The fangs of his mouth, sharp as blades, seemed to be on the verge of opening at any moment so that he could swallow them with a single movement of his mouth.

    But Logem did not hesitate. And she did likewise. Having reached that point, no alternative was left.

    "Who are you?"

    The warrior''s voice was atonal, inquiring like an impartial judge.

    ''A woman?'' Indeed, although he could be wrong, that voice sounded feminine. Logem must have noticed it too, but it didn''t seem to have changed his plans.

    "Maybe we should go back."

    Knowing when to retreat was an essential quality to have in order to survive.

    If their interlocutor had been the architect of that disaster, then neither of them had even the slightest hope.

    "You are real. Not a dream."

    But if Agravaine had to stake her life, she would have bet that her brother was not of that opinion.

    "Are you seeking revenge for your comrades?"

    "No."

    A pang in the heart struck Agravaine. This time there had not been the slightest trace of doubt in Logem''s answer.

    "Are you also here to ask the new savior for help?"

    The dragon''s voice was deep and understanding. There was no trace of any hostility in it.

    "Help?" Logem replied, his gaze fixed on the one who had given life to his dreams. "Yes, that is what I seek. You are the one I have been waiting for. After all these years ... revenge."

    Her brother held out his hand, waiting for an answer.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Antilene was trying to rationalize the situation.

    First, an emerald green dragon had knelt at her feet, proclaiming her a new deity-what blasphemy-.

    Now, a couple of elves had come out of who-knows-where, proclaiming they were seeking her help.

    The woman looked sickly; was this the first time she had seen a battlefield?

    Antilene had noticed a slight glint that had enveloped her body. If she had been able to empower herself, it meant she had at least some knowledge of magic.

    The man had a deep scar furrowing his face, and since he had seen her, he had begun to sport a maniacal smile, which had made the half-elf slightly uncomfortable.

    Yet he did not want to fight; on the contrary.

    He had held out his hand to her; was this a trap?

    "Who are you?"

    She could have killed all those nuisances on the spot, and then headed for her companions who were waiting for her hidden in the forest. Or maybe they had caught up with them? Having tracking skills would have been providential at that moment.

    "A friend."

    Of course, a friend. It was only natural that after bathing Evasha''s land with the blood of elves another long-eared would spring up ready to offer his friendship.

    The only strange thing was that it hadn''t happened sooner, right?

    "Why should I believe you?"

    "Because we have the same goal."

    "How do you know what my goal is?" Did he know she was an agent of the Theocracy? Or had he gotten a completely wrong idea about her? Curiosity was beginning to set in.

    "I can imagine that. Because I know who you are."

    "You know nothing about me."

    Charon''s Guidance was about to be unsheathed. The weapon began to be pointed at the two strangers.

    "I know you are the king''s daughter."

    She stopped.

    Now he had her attention.

    Antilene pondered what was the most prudent course of action. Could she trust those elves or should she end the matter at that very moment?

    "How do you know?"

    She decided to proceed with the first option.

    "Information I have gathered over the years. It''s long overdue. That we have been waiting for you."

    She knew that her existence was a secret in the Theocracy, but was it the same for the Elf kingdom? Ignorance was a treacherous enemy to counter.

    "So, you also want to kill my father?"

    "Our father."

    Now it was all beginning to make sense. If that mysterious elf was also one of the king''s sons, it was not unreasonable to think that he also sought revenge.

    "How do you think you can help me? Do you think you are on my level?"

    Although she was fatigued after a full night of fighting, Antilene did not doubt that she could be able to eliminate that elf and his companion with a simple wave of her hand. It was not arrogance, but the simple truth.

    "Come with me and you will find out."

    ''All that was missing was for him to remain vague. What to do? In all likelihood, it is a trap. But if not...''

    "Can we trust her?" The woman had finally begun to speak. Like Antilene, she sported irises of different colors that shone with a warm light. That she had been another daughter of the king? "Look what she did. It will be years before the forest can absorb all these bodies."

    Antilene observed the damage to which she had given rise. For a moment, which burned as quickly as the life of an ephemeral, the regret of having become a grim reaper began to leap to her heart.

    Nonetheless, that was an estimation beyond exaggeration. Within a few weeks at most, nature would resume its cycle, returning to its previous state.

    "It''s war," was her response to that not too veiled accusation. "It was me or them. They made their choice. And so, I made mine."

    "Their choice?" The woman -her sister? - struggled to maintain her gaze. Unlike the man, the trembling body could not hold back the terror she felt. "How can you call tyranny a choice?"

    "The weak deserve what happens to them."

    "So, our mothers also deserved what happened to them?"

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The emerald dragon had pulled out his claws, and seemed on the verge of seeking satisfaction for what he felt was an affront to his new mistress.

    Antilene was about to raise her arm, to nip any possible conflict before the battle started.

    "That''s enough!" But it was the elf with the scar who spoke first. With a gesture of his arm, he pulled the woman back behind him. "Let''s start again from the beginning. My name is Logem and I need your help."

    "My name doesn''t matter," trusting is good, but not trusting is better. "But for the time being you can call me Zesshi."

    "Lady Zesshi, it is an honor to make your acquaintance." Although she could not be sure, Antilene reputed that answer as sincere. There truly was a first time for everything.

    "I can''t say as much," lying was not her style. She ignored the glare the woman gave her. "But I will overlook it for the time being. You, on the other hand, what is your name?" She asked, facing the dragon.

    Only now did she realize that she still did not know why he had decided to put himself at her beck and call.

    The unusualness of the situation had left Antilene lurching for a moment. Finally, she was beginning to start thinking straight again.

    "Ashuak Frahr Ssissth," a high-sounding name, for sure. "I am also known as the judge of the forest and guardian of these sacred places."

    "I see," would she ever be able to pronounce that name correctly? The draconic language always jammed her tongue. "And why did you decide to put yourself at my service?"

    "I, too, wish for the death of the elf king," the dragon''s eyes glowed with fiery ardor. "He dared to threaten something that is very important to me. But, unfortunately, my powers pale before his."

    Not that it was a surprise, but her father had countless enemies. Many enemies, much honor, used to say a fool.

    The King was not lacking in the latter, but as for the former?

    "And you think I can beat him?"

    "If not you, no one."

    Encouraging.

    "I am sure Lady Zesshi is capable of carrying out the ordeal," the conviction -almost on the verge of fanaticism- of that Logem was beginning to make her uncomfortable. "Especially if she gets help from us."

    "How do you think you can help me?" At this point, the half-elf could not help but admit she was intrigued. At worst, she would add two more corpses to her tally. Two was such a small number, after all.

    "Come with me, and I''ll show you."

    "Okay," the decision had now been made. "But we''ll wait for my comrades first. They should be here shortly; only after talking with them will you have a definite answer."

    "Perfect," a familiar smile -where had she seen it before?- surfaced on the elf''s face. "My friend and I will gladly wait."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "We cannot trust her."

    Agravaine observed Zesshi, who had retreated a few meters from them, accompanied by that dragon, with the utmost attention.

    Now that she had shed her helmet and shown her face, it was evident that the girl was one of their bloodlines. If the color of her eyes, black and white like their father, would not have been enough to convince them, the pallor of her skin was without a shadow of a doubt the same as that which distinguished the ruler of the elves.

    "No, we can''t." Did Logem agree with her? A miracle? "But it doesn''t matter. Trust is about establishing an equal relationship. In our case, the difference in strength is so obvious that something more than mere subordination could never be possible.

    "And so, you plan to put yourself at her service? Like a little soldier ant?"

    "Yes."

    That man was not her brother. Or perhaps the image of him she had cultivated over those years was just an illusion that was now being replaced by reality.

    "Why?"

    "Because after all these years of struggle, for the first time, I feel I can taste victory. This fire that has been consuming me since I was a child may finally subside at last."

    Not that she couldn''t understand that. Even Agravaine was now beginning to feel the weight of fatigue after decades of mounting a desperate resistance.

    Their dream was a utopia. Even if they could take one step, their goal was two steps away. So why continue?

    There was a time when Agravaine would have said, "It is better to walk than to stand still."

    And she really believed that. But the walk was starting to get heavy and strength was beginning to fail.

    "All because of this faint hope, isn''t it?"

    Hope. The most treacherous of friends.

    "That''s all I have left. I''m not asking you to follow me to hell."

    "Do you remember when we first met?"

    It had been a long time ago. She was just a child at the time.

    "No, I can''t say I remember."

    It didn''t matter. The story of how they had met was the same as countless others.

    "You don''t even remember what you said to me that day?"

    But there was something that could not be overlooked. A phrase, small comfort that had been brought to someone who had lost the sparkle of life.

    "If you can''t find a reason to live, live for me."

    "Yes, that''s right." So he had not forgotten. How could he have? A sense of guilt, for doubting. "Even that day there were rows of corpses around us. Humans, though, not elves."

    "I have no regrets for what I did," the scar towered like a battle trophy. Impassive, Logem did not accuse the passage of time, like a monolith last relic of a ghost town. "Nor for what I will do."

    "I know," they were both aware that wasn''t true. But what was the point of continuing that ungainly dance? "You sold your soul to a demon in the past. Are you ready to do it again now?"

    "That demon betrayed me," Agravaine did not know exactly the whole story. But she knew it was about broken trust and a lost friend. Little bits of knowledge, carefully gathered over the years. "And not just me. Everyone else, too. But this time it won''t happen again. I have no problem giving up my soul. As long as everything comes to an end."

    "Have you ever thought about what will happen next? If we succeed, I mean." Aspirations and dreams mingled with a false sense of hope. The future seemed a chimera impossible to tame, and the past a prison impossible to escape.

    "Everyone will have to pay the price for their sins," but who was it who determined the fair price for their actions? "I am no exception."

    "So, I ask you, once again, are you ready to follow me to the end?"

    Agravaine looked at her brother. He returned her stare.

    "If you sell your soul to a demon," one more compromise, to the face of doomsday. "Then I sell my soul to you. Together until the end, as we promised that day."

    Logem said nothing, but pointed with his fingertip toward Zesshi and a group of humans who had just arrived.

    "''Let''s go, the time has come."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Is that a dragon?"

    One did not need to be a genius at reading others'' emotions to understand that Divine Chain was amazed. Even someone as clueless as Antilene had no trouble understanding the Black Scripture member''s amazement.

    "Yes," was the half-elf''s reply. So natural as to be banal. "It is indeed a dragon."

    The emerald dragon -remembering his name at the moment was not a priority- watched the other Black Scripture members in silence, apparently overthinking.

    "Are they friends of yours, Lady Zesshi?" He asked, with a hint of curiosity.

    Friends, could she call them such? "They are my companions," better not to use such specific definitions, remaining vague. "They are here to help me with my mission."

    "I see there was no shortage of fun here," commented Time Turbolence, looking around the surroundings. Unlike the elf from earlier, the Black Scripture, though surely impressed and in their hearts afraid, did not show the distrust of her that Antilene would have expected. "To be honest I think all this red doesn''t go with the landscape."

    Was that a joke?

    "Did you notice if anyone was watching us?" Being separated served not only to showcase the half-elf''s skills but also to draw out possible ambushes.

    "No," One-Thousand Mile Astrologer adjusted the lenses of her glasses, barely concealing agitation. "Not that... not that anyone would have the courage to intervene in that... battle. Yes, only a madman could have decided to get in the way of your display of force, Lady Zesshi."

    Had Cassandra seen it all? Perfect, it would have saved giving a few too many explanations.

    Either way, it had been disappointing. The only thing she had gained from that adventure was an overgrown lizard who was no less frightened of her father than were the other inhabitants of the forest.

    "...Why-why are those elves watching us?" Infinite Magic was as shy as ever, almost annoying, but hers was a legitimate question.

    Antilene pondered what was the best method to explain the matter clearly.

    She opted for a direct confrontation.

    "They are children of the king," and so far, nothing surprising. How many of the ruler''s bastards were scattered at the four cardinal points? To count them in one lifetime would have been asking too much even for long-lived races like elves. "They say they are here to help us. They want me to follow them."

    "If it''s a trap, it''s not the most cunning," Myriad Barriers thought aloud. "Then again, following them so blindly might prove imprudent."

    "That there are elves planning the death of their ruler is not so unbelievable," Divine Chant handed a wet cloth to Antilene to wipe off dirt and sweat. Only now did the half-elf realize how much she longed for a warm bath. "I don''t think we have much to lose by following them. At worst, we would just have to face another battle. But I''ll let Lady Zesshi decide."

    "I want to go," an opportunity like that would never happen again. It was a mathematical certainty. "If you don''t want to go with me, I''ll send you a message when it''s all over."

    "And leave our secret weapon alone!?" Divine Chain could not hold back an expression filled with astonishment. Or maybe he was just incredibly good at acting. "In this place where every minute you can be attacked by some hellish beast just waiting to devour us to the last bone? No, thank you. I''d much rather stay by the side of a warrior who can make dragons kneel and give new meaning to the expression ''ass-kicking.''"

    "Um... thank you?" Was that flattery? Surely the strangest she had ever heard in her life. Not that there were that many, come to think of it. "As for the rest of you?"

    "As far as I''m concerned, you''re the leader for this mission," Time Turbolence said, unceremoniously. "Wherever you decide to go, I will follow."

    "The same goes for me."

    "...Y-yes. I think the same."

    "The opinion of the descendant of the Six Gods is the only one that matters right now."

    "I foresee that this is the only thing to do."

    An agreement had been reached. Easy.

    "I will go wherever you go, Lady Zesshi."

    The emerald dragon had voiced his opinion. Had he felt left out? No, the thought mechanisms of dragons were outside the ordinary reasoning of other species. Evidently, there was a hidden meaning in those words that Antilene could not grasp.

    A secret plan in which the various stages unfolded into complex mechanisms, whose gears spun in a manner completely alien to ordinary logic.

    An abyss of double meanings that required a superior mind and a trained intellect to be able to untangle that labyrinth with an exit hidden from ordinary mortals.

    Although Antilene was certain she could beat him in physical strength, could she say the same about cunning?

    "I''m sorry if I intruded, but I wanted to make my point."

    Or maybe he was just stupid.

    "I still haven''t decided what to do with you," Antilene confessed, uncomfortable at being treated with such devotion by what was a legendary creature. "I mean, the only thing you''ve tried to do so far is to try to meddle with my thoughts."

    "It was a test to find out your character."

    Perhaps. But certainly not a pleasant experience. The image of Faine still appeared with sharpness in her mind, as if the dead woman was still there.

    But the anger Antilene felt could be silenced, if it would bring in return a valuable ally for her revenge mission.

    "Never mind," the half-elf wrinkled her nose as she gestured a motion of indifference with her free hand. "It looks like our friends are on their way here."

    Logem and his companion approached the Black Scriptures, staying a few steps away. Did they think they were going to attack them? Not that that short distance could have saved them.

    "Have you made a decision, Lady Zesshi?" The scarred man asked, placing his hands prominently. If it was a way to show his pure intentions, it was not the most convincing.

    "Yes," in any case, it would not be the suspicious attitude that would cause a change in her decision. "We are ready to follow you."

    "Perfect," without even wasting a second, the elf began to set out. "Come, there is a long way to go."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    A nerve-wracking silence.

    Agravaine kept looking straight ahead, trying to ignore her unusual companions.

    The group had been making their way through the vegetation for more than five hours now. Accustomed as she was to living in the forest, insects, plants, and heat were part of her daily routine.

    But if they were no problem for her, she would have expected that the same rules would not apply to those humans.

    But reluctantly, she had to accept that none of them voiced the slightest complaint.

    It was not only Zesshi who was out of the ordinary. Those other humans reeked of blood like the fiercest beasts in the forest and emitted an overwhelming pressure that took one''s breath away.

    If troubles never came alone, their equipment was far superior to any the elf had ever seen in her life. Only Logem could boast magical items of the same workmanship.

    "These are most likely the Black Scriptures," her brother had explained to her. "Each one of them should equal one of my old companions."

    If the Theocracy had such outstanding individuals at its disposal, if it had a secret weapon that could end the war, why wait until then?

    ''Just to prolong our misery?''

    Were the lives of elves of such little value to the Slaine Theocracy?

    "We are lucky," a man with funny tattoos covering his face and a long chain coiled on his arm addressed her. That he was trying to break the ice? "We usually encounter monsters of all sorts, but everything has been running smoothly since we set out."

    "Logem and I grew up in this place. We know the best ways to be able to avoid bad encounters. Besides," why was she responding? Surely the man had brought countless of her brothers and sisters back to mother earth. "Other beasts tend to sniff out danger. With a dragon to escort, it is not surprising that they prefer to avoid us."

    The man from Theocracy blushed conspicuously, probably from realizing the stupid question he had asked. "Yes, I guess that makes sense."

    "You''re still the usual idiot, Divine Chain," a girl wearing a pretty bow on her head shot back at him. "Don''t you think you''re inconveniencing that elf too much?"

    "Hey, I was just trying to make conversation! Not everyone is as obnoxious as you, Astrologer!" Another nickname. Apparently, the lack of trust was mutual. "I didn''t bother you, did I?" He questioned her.

    "No," she lied. Just being in contact with those murderers disgusted her. "Although I didn''t think that being in contact with inferior beings could be bearable for you humans." By now she was also used to Slaine''s doctrine. It would not have been ridiculous to think that she was more knowledgeable than some citizens of the Theocracy itself.

    "Do you think this is a good time for a discussion to arise?" The girl with the bow looked at her through her thick lenses. The purse she carried began to shake, as if something was moving inside. "At the moment we are allies, that''s enough for you. Keep friends close, and enemies closer, right? When your king is dead, we will have plenty of time to discuss our doctrine. That is, if you are still alive, of course."

    "I will be," now she had all the more reason to make it to the end alive. "I hope you can say the same."

    Before Astrologer could counter, a voice was heard drawing attention.

    "How much longer?" Zesshi asked. The girl was riding that huge dragon as if it were an ordinary mount. Unlike them, therefore, she should not have been feeling any more fatigue.

    "We are almost there," Logem replied, pointing to a waterfall a few miles away. "Near there is the hiding place where I wanted to take you."

    "You have a hiding place near the Falls of Remembrance as well?" Agravaine was surprised. She knew that Logem had scattered numerous hiding places in the forest over the years, but she did not believe there was one there as well. "Many elders consider this place sacred. If they knew you established a base here, they would not take it very well."

    "Precisely because it is a sacred place, access to which is forbidden to many young people, it is the perfect place to hide," the early afternoon light reflected on the crystal-clear water, moving the elf with its natural spectacle. "Not many nuisances pass this way."

    "What''s so special about this place? To me, it looks like a waterfall the same as countless others." The Black Scripture little guy''s question -why was a child in that group? - was not entirely misplaced.

    To an outsider, that place showed nothing noteworthy after all.

    "It''s an old story," Agravaine began to explain, without thinking if they were interested or caring too much. "It goes back to the time of creation."

    "The tear of the tree that holds up the world," the dragon seemed to have finally found something that piqued his interest. "I know it is a very common legend in the creation myths of you elves."

    "That sounds interesting," Zesshi''s expression appeared genuinely intrigued. A way to reconnect with her roots? Or just a trivial pastime? "Please tell us what''s so special about it."

    Whatever the answer had been, Agravaine felt there was no harm in having that old story shared.

    "According to our traditions, the Forest of Evasha originated from a small seed."

    "An entire forest from a single seed? That seems hard to believe." Pondered a muscular man who always carried two mighty shields. How could he move with all that weight on him? "But I admit that usually, tales about the origin of the world turn out to be rather ... peculiar."

    "It was no ordinary seed," what could they know about their traditions? Such arrogance. "But one of the children of Ixazalouh, the goddess whose roots support the vault of heaven."

    "This one seems really..."

    "Silence!" Zesshi unceremoniously blocked the tattooed man''s almost certain disrespectful comment. "Continue."

    Divine Chain shut up on the spot, taking care not to emit the slightest breath.

    "All great natural landscapes are the result of the union of the goddess with one of her brothers. Deserts, for example, are born of Ixazalouh''s love with Pedemonte, the deity who holds up the sun in the sky."

    She seemed to have captured the attention of those present, except for Logem, who imperiously continued to lead the way for the others.

    This was not unexpected; her brother had always thought their traditions nonsense. The fact that there were numerous variations of them according to tribe justified his skepticism.

    How could dozens and dozens of absolute truths exist together at the same time?

    Agravaine believed that numerous versions enriched the appeal of history, but she understood those who thought differently.

    "So, the world would be the result of incest?"

    This time Divine Chain had been able to voice his thoughts without being interrupted. His companion, Astrologer, gave him a look that could have crushed a giant on the spot.

    "Ehehehe," but Agravaine did not find it such a disrespectful comment. In a way, he was right. "Yes, that''s not a wrong observation."

    "It''s not that unusual," the little guy interjected, shaking off some leaves that had fallen on the cloak he was wearing. "I think some people living in the southern deserts have similar stories. It is a pattern that is repeated in numerous traditions, not just in humans. I remember reading something similar in an anthropology book a long time ago."

    "Probably," in another life, Agravaine would have loved being able to devote himself to the study of those topics. There was something fascinating about seeing how each population found its own answers to questions about the origin of life. "Anyway, Evasha''s forest, as you may have guessed by now, was the result of the goddess''s relationship with her brother Huangpu, the weeping god whose tears fill the oceans and other water sources."

    But these were just absurd aspirations that would never be realized.

    "This waterfall, a place where water and earth meet, is believed to be the place where their love was born."

    "And so, this would be the place where the seed that would give birth to all this would sprout," Zesshi concluded, dismounting from the dragon. Logem had signaled for them to stop, evidently because they had arrived at their destination.

    "Yes," but the story did not end there. "When the goddess saw that her offspring would begin to grow, she decided that she could not leave them alone. From her arms, resembling giant branches, gigantic fruits began to grow, which ripened in seconds. From those fruits took shape all the races that inhabit our home, elves included."

    Silly, maybe. But at least explained the bond between elves and nature. A profound connection born from love.

    "That''s a good story," the half-elf approached her brother, who had stopped near what looked like a tunnel carved into the rock. "I''d love to hear more, if you don''t object."

    "Perhaps in the future," Logem had answered for her. "Now we have other things to think about. Don''t you agree, Lady Zesshi?"

    "Lead the way." Zesshi signaled the emerald dragon to wait for her near the waterfall as she approached her Black Scripture companions. "I can''t wait to see what you have to show me."

 Chapter 28: Preparations

    Chapter 28

    Preparations

    Upper Water Month, 24th day, 20.00

    After passing through a tunnel carved into the rock, the group emerged on what was an elevation midway between the top of the waterfall and the lake over which the water gushed.

    Hidden among the rocks was a square structure, vaguely resembling a dwelling if it were not for the lack of a door or any other part that might have served as an entrance.

    "This way," Logem led them toward the back of the building and, after pulling a scroll from the bag he carried over his shoulder, said: "[Reveal Entrance]."

    The scroll wore out and, as an enchant, the walls began to part, a shrill sound annoyed the ears, and a modestly sized opening materialized.

    "Prudent," commented Antilene, not entirely surprised by that precaution. Using magic to prevent entry to unexpected visitors was common practice even in the Theocracy. "Although I would have expected something more original."

    "The most proven methods are always the best," replied the scarred elf, quickly slipping into the opening. "Come, we don''t have much time to waste."

    After crossing a small hallway, a spacious kitchen made its way into their view.

    There were few but well-ordered tools and supplies arranged on the large shelves at the sides of the room.

    "Here you can rest yourselves and restore energies," Logem took one of the stowed pouches from which he handed out fruits of various kinds that he offered to the Black Scriptures. "Do not worry, a Druidic incantation kept them fresh, preventing rotting."

    Although hesitant, the elite of the Theocracy gracefully accepted the food offered to them.

    "It''s good," the sweetness of the bitten apple refreshed Antilene''s palate. "But we''re not here to eat, right?"

    "No, we''re not," the elf headed toward a door that connected the right side of the kitchen with another room. "Lady Zesshi, I ask you to come alone for now. Some privacy is required."

    "Okay," the half-elf turned her gaze toward her companions. "Wait for me here, it won''t take long."

    "Sister, keep an eye on them," Logem gave the order and then walked away without even waiting for a response.

    "Oh, yes of course. If these Theocracy soldiers should decide to do anything I would be quite capable of stopping them all by myself," even though she knew he would not listen to her, the woman nevertheless expressed aloud the absurdity of the request. "When they tear me apart, at least I will know that you trusted me."

    "Don''t worry," glaring, Antilene searched for the right words to reassure her. "We are allies now, so they won''t do anything to inconvenience you. Right?" She asked, addressing the Black Scripture.

    "Right," they replied like good little soldiers. She had trained them well after all.

    "Don''t worry, lady elf. You have nothing to fear with us nearby!" Divine Chain seemed far too enthusiastic. "As long as I am there, no one will hurt you!" But maybe it was just an impression.

    "Don''t worry, Lady Zesshi," Time Turbulence had assumed the role of team spokesperson. He clutched his rapier firmly, still cautious about being in what was effectively enemy territory. "We will only attack if provoked. But I am sure that will not happen."

    Antilene walked through the same door Logem had opened seconds earlier. What she found before her was ... more normal than she had expected.

    "I thought you were going to entrust me with some enchanted sword, or an impenetrable shield, or some other legendary weapon," said the half-elf, disappointment for her shattered daydreams perceptible in her voice. "Instead ... There are only a lot of books here. Not that I don''t appreciate a good read, mind you. Just not what I was expecting."

    Mountains and mountains of texts crowded a giant library, attached to a wall of the room that was otherwise empty except for a small desk placed in the center.

    "I doubt I could give you anything better than your current equipment," on this Antilene could not fault him. Still, not having found something magnificent to show off as the chosen one in the same way the heroines of legends began their story left a small bitter aftertaste. Bards did not begin their ballads from a dusty library. "Why don''t you try looking at one of the texts found here?"

    The half-elf did not let herself repeat it twice, and after randomly picking up one of those books, she began to read aloud.

    "But this..." She could not hold back a squeak of surprise, for the content was rather... unexpected. "Tables of the king''s wake-up times? On ordinary days it oscillates between seven and eight in the morning. On those dedicated to his greatness, even six in the morning."

    "There are a lot more than you might think. Father likes to be celebrated."

    Antilene continued flipping through the pages quickly, stunned by that sea of seemingly trivial information.

    "Favorite breakfast: bunches of fresh grapes combined with grapefruit juice... Is wont to avoid dinner if he has had a large lunch... Doesn''t like to be contradicted..."

    The half-elf placed the book she was holding on the desk and picked up a second one, beginning to read it just as quickly.

    "Always wears the same crown... When he goes to his rooms to rest, he often requires a bard to help conciliate his sleep... Cannot perform complex mathematical operations..."

    And again, and again. Antilene kept reading, driven by curiosity.

    "It is said that he has an aversion to oranges," those phantom secrets would have been more appropriate in a low-grade comedy. "Usually gets out of bed with his right foot..."

    "Perhaps these last two are not very reliable," despite the absurdity of this piece of information, Logem maintained the same impassive look that distinguished him.

    "But this is all worthless information. Stupid habits or unverified hearsay," much of what was written in those texts would have provoked laughter if read in another situation. But at that moment Antilene did not think it was suitable to engage in comedy, although a snicker was barely restrained¡­ "Did you bring me here just to waste my time? Or maybe to improve my mood?"

    "Listen to me," he sounded serious. Evidently, it was not just a bad joke. "I know it may seem that much of what you find inside those books is lacking in merit, I won''t deny that."

    "It would be hard the other way around," she interrupted him, with a derisive smile. "I admit I wasn''t very interested in knowing what my father''s favorite drink was."

    "It''s not just that," the elf pulled a detailed list from the inside of the desk. Marked on it were various ciphers, each probably corresponding to one of the shelves in the library. "A-7, row four."

    Logem pulled out another book, looking the same as all the others. "Read this one, please!" He pleaded with her, for the first time his voice broken by a supplicating inflection.

    "Okay," she settled him, still doubtful. Having reached that point, there was nothing left to lose. "Let''s see."

    "Behemoth," the title alone foretold that that text would be far more interesting than the others. "Possible theories about how it works. Chapter One: conditions of summoning. In addition to the normal summoning system observed in numerous magic casters, the king seems to possess a kind of sentient earthiness that he can maneuver at will to speed up the summoning time. It is uncertain whether this potting soil and Behemoth are actually connected or are just a tool to make magic easier. Nevertheless, the presence of this soil near the treasure room (testimony of three ex-royal guards) establishes a possible link."

    "Keep reading," he urged her, unable to hide his satisfaction. Devoid of emotion was preferable.

    "Chapter Two: possible risks. Usually resorting to such a powerful summoning could prove to be a heavy burden on the summoner''s resources. While it cannot be determined with certainty whether these disadvantages really exist or are only a faint hope to cling to, various hypotheses have been formulated to be able to explain how the king manages to access a more powerful summoning than normal. For now, the most likely is that he possesses a particular magical tool that amplifies his abilities, allowing him to bypass normal summoning conditions¡­ These are..."

    "Exactly," Logem took the book from her hands, to engage in a cursory explanation. "Chapter Three: resistances and vulnerabilities. Chapter Four: movement patterns and special attacks. Chapter Five: possible reconstruction of the battles in which it was deployed."

    "It''s a treasure trove of invaluable information," Antilene had over the years gained an idea of what the Behemoth was- courtesy of Faine and the Theocracy''s spies-but it was nowhere near as valuable as all that. "And everything included here corresponds to the truth?"

    "Of that, I am not sure. Each of these books has lost texts, fragments of testimonies -even indirect ones- and rumors that I have collected and reworked over the years. Reliability, therefore, is not guaranteed with certainty."

    Antilene''s enthusiasm sagged, but it was not entirely gone.

    "However," Logem continued, with a confidence that seemed unable to waver. "I am willing to bet that they are not entirely useless. Before facing the king, you need to be as informed as possible. That way, your chances of victory will increase, even if only by an infinitesimal amount."

    "Not quite what I expected, I must be honest," after all, a sword capable of cleaving the sun or a helmet that made one invisible would have been preferable. "Nevertheless, I will treasure what is written in this book."

    "Wait, this is not the end of it," the elf pulled out his list again. "B-4, C-5, D-3..."

    One after another, more tomes began to be pulled out and placed back on the desk. Eventually, at least half a dozen of them had been placed back on the small writing table.

    "Magics used by the king... Physical skills... Terrains suitable for confrontation..." Each of those manuscripts concealed within them years and years of painful research and sweat poured into gathering the smallest piece of data that might prove useful. "And not only news directly concerning the king. This one is devoted to the schedules of patrols in the capital. This other to possible army formations. And one with a detailed map of the royal palace and every possible point of interest. How much information have you gathered over the years?"

    "...Enough."

    "Amazing," surprise mixed with admiration flashed across the half-elf''s face. "But why did you do all this?"

    "I knew, or rather hoped, that one day someone would appear capable of ending the king''s reign of terror. I just did what I could so that I could increase the odds of victory. I clung to every smallest lead I could track down and traveled far and wide in search of something or someone who might be useful for my purposes. I met mercenaries from the south and sophisticated races from the north, never getting anything concrete. I just wanted to... " The voice was broken by hesitation. A moment of weakness that came from the bottom of a heart that never knew rest, and could not remain unspoken. "I just wanted to stop feeling helpless like I did when I was a child."

    "What..." Antilene was on the verge of asking more about Logem''s past, but nipped the idea in the bud. The scar was more than enough of a clue to advance a hypothesis of what had happened, and prying more would run the risk of souring relations. "I understand," she merely replied. "It must have been hard."

    "It was," Logem lowered his gaze. For the first time since she had met him -a very short span of time, she had to admit- Antilene noticed a disturbance in his emotions. "Now, however, we have other things to think about."

    The elf continued, the vulnerability he showed was again stifled: "We have little time, so we cannot waste it. I will help you memorize the most important details." Imperceptible as a slight breeze, he brought himself behind her back. "We will initiate a plan of action. I need you to explain the abilities of your comrades, in order to bring to life a suitable team to face the king."

    "On this last point I will stop you right now," Antilene turned to face him steadily. Although he was taller than her, it was the girl who imposed herself with her presence. "I will face my father alone. All I need is a proper diversion that prevents anyone from interfering."

    "No way!" Logem''s expression twisted into an outburst of anger. "I will not allow the one chance we have to be squandered on some foolish conviction. For what reason should I let you go alone?" The fingers of his right hand began to move, until they reached the wound that adorned his face. They began to rub against the atrophied skin, as if in spasms.

    "Because you can''t stop me," Antilene calmly explained. That obsessive movement continued, causing slight concern in the half-elf. "You have nothing to worry about. I will win."

    "How do I know?" That compulsive movement worsened. The bun with which the elf''s hair was enclosed unfolded, showing a row of silvery, silky hair. He looked just like their father, observed Antilene. "What should I do if you also fail? What would be left for me at that point?"

    "Nothing," she reassured him. "If you were to lose, in that case, you can accept your death with no regrets. In any case, an end will be reached."

    "...I," the agitation began to fade, but distress still plowed through his countenance. He heaved a deep sigh, searching for his lost calm. Antilene gave him the space needed to calm down.

    ''I never thought he could collapse so easily. His nerves of steel were just a facade.''

    ''I''m sorry,'' he sought her forgiveness. But it was not necessary. The half-elf sketched a half-smile to let him know there was nothing to worry about. "It''s just that lately I can''t keep my temper easily."

    ''How many decades has his struggle been going on? Clearly, he has reached his limit.''

    "I sympathize with you," it was not difficult for Antilene to imagine herself in the same condition, roles reversed. A compassion born of understanding made its way into her heart. "Nevertheless, I do not intend to go back on my decision."

    "I had intended that," Logem had regained some of his decorum. After fixing his hair again and assuming a firmer posture, he regained his composed air. "Is there really nothing I can say to convince you?"

    "I''m afraid not," confirmed the half-elf. "I decided that a single confrontation would be the best way in which I would break my fate. A choice I have made since I was a child."

    "I can''t understand it," resignation had taken over as the dominant emotion. "I suppose I can''t help but give you trust. Will you at least allow me to help you get to Crescent Lake and rout the royal army?"

    "Of course," Antilene''s words were sincere. "I couldn''t have asked for anything more. As you may have noticed, there are not many of us. The more we have to back us up, the better."

    "Then it''s decided," arranging the books, Logem chose a couple that he deemed suitable to begin those ''lessons.'' "The capital is two days away from here. I don''t know how long it will take to arrange everything. But I believe that in a week, we can start the assault. Do you think that''s enough time?"

    "It is."

    "Perfect, then we can start. But first, I want you to promise me one thing. Just a proposal. If you will not be able to do it, it will be fine."

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    "I''m all ears."

    <hr>

    A couple of days passed.

    Antilene and Logem stay cooped up in the library practically the entire time, barely leaving themselves time to go outside to grab a bite to eat.

    They continued like this, going over and over information, strategies, and battle plans until their bodies gave out from exhaustion.

    A new morning dawned, the light of dawn silhouetted shyly in the sky, coloring the celestial vault a coppery red.

    Antilene reluctantly got up from her assigned bed. The bedroom was small but comfortable with everything needed to ensure a proper stay.

    If it had been just her, at least.

    "Morning," she whispered softly, to find out if her companions had already gotten up or on the contrary were still prisoners in dreamland. ''No sign of life,'' she noted. ''Better not wake them up yet.''

    She pondered whether it would have been appropriate to start the day for them as well, but opted to leave them to their rest. The tasks they could perform at that time were limited, and it would not hurt her companions to enjoy a modicum of calm before the storm.

    Taking care not to cause the slightest noise, harder to do than to say in that cramped space, the half-elf headed for the exit.

    Expecting to find Logem already up, ready to start going over their battle plan, she was astonished to find the elf woman -she had not revealed her name yet- standing, already awake.

    Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore light cotton clothes, ideal for life in the forest. The woman was positioned near the kitchenette, intent on tinkering with a kettle.

    For her part, Antilene had been wearing the Wind God''s armor for days now, shedding it only in rare moments of peace.

    "Good morning," the woman greeted her with a choked, almost begrudging welcome. Still wary of her. Hard to not notice it. "You''re up early."

    "Good morning to you," Antilene returned the greeting, trying to show herself as cordial as possible. "You showed up this morning."

    The elf''s presence in recent days could have been called ghostly. She could have competed with another elusive figure lurking at the top of the Cathedral of Darkness that the half-elf knew very well.

    "We have plenty of supplies, so there was no need to go out and get more," the woman explained, as she prepared a drink with a fruity aroma. Tea? "Would you like some?" She asked, intent on pouring some into a small pitcher.

    "Gladly," Antilene gently grasped the glass that was offered to her, then brought the drink to her mouth. A sweet taste grazed her lips as she felt her body thank her for that small treat. " Good, though I prefer tea with less milk."

    "Sorry, it''s a force of habit," her lips arched in a small grimace. "Logem prefers it very sweet, and by now I''ve gotten used to it, too. I can make more if you want."

    "No, there will be no need," the woman meanwhile had also offered her some whipped shortbread pastries, which the half-elf had gladly accepted. "Rather, where is Logem now? Strangely, he hasn''t shown up yet," she asked, still intent on chewing, manners could go to hell.

    "Speaking of which," the elf handed over a letter that had been left on the kitchen table. "Just an hour ago he left this place. This is for you."

    Antilene opened the envelope and then began to read.

    "What does it say?" The woman asked, curiosity spilling from her heterochromatic eyes. "As usual, Logem would not inform me of his plans. He said you would take care of it." How long had these two known each other? The fact that they were related did not establish with certainty that their meeting dated back to early childhood, but it was clear that the time they had spent together was a lot.

    "It looks like it''s going to start soon. Some final preparations need to be brought to a close. After that, he will inform us of when to get ready," the half-elf quickly summarized what she had just read. There were also many directions written about what might be the best readings to prepare in anticipation, but she felt it unnecessary to share those details. "Also, a request for you to remain here in order to be contacted quickly via [Message] when the time comes."

    "Of course," the elf shrugged in defeat. "Well, he did it because he trusts me, that should make me happy, shouldn''t it?"

    "If it is any comfort to you, I promise that nothing will happen as long as you are under my protection."

    "...Thank you."

    Neither of them uttered another word, both too awkward to end the moment of quiet. Antilene''s memory was catapulted back to her childhood and the times when even a simple greeting was a hard feat to accomplish.

    "May I know your name?" She tried to break the ice with an obvious, yet essential question given the situation. It would have been strange, a thought not entirely unwarranted, to continue referring to her as ''the woman'' or ''the elf'' for the rest of their cohabitation.

    The elf showed thoughtfulness, her fingers still fiddling with the cup of tea that was still clutched in her hands. "I still cannot trust you," she replied in a firm voice. "Not after what you''ve done. Call me silly, but not telling you my name is one of the last things I have control over."

    "At least tell me a way to call you. Unless you just prefer to be called simply woman."

    "Aella will do for now," the woman -Aella- stood up from her chair and cleared the table quickly. "I don''t want you to think that we are¡­" The word she was about to utter choked in her throat, but Antilene had a clear idea of what was about to come out of her lips.

    "No need for you to worry," there was no resentment in the half-elf''s tone. "I do not consider you a sister. Nor Logem a brother. You are only a means to my end as I am the same to you."

    "I see we are on the same wavelength," Aella was heartened to find that they felt the same way. "When this is over, I hope to see neither you nor those hypocrites in the Theocracy."

    "There are no hypocrites in the Theocracy," a spark had been lit. Whether it was destined to become a fire was yet to be seen. "We fight for an ideal of peace and salvation. It is thanks to us that humanity thrives."

    "And for your purposes, you would be quite happy to destroy and slaughter anyone who might be even remotely a danger to your ideal," the voice had risen slightly. Not enough to be an affront, but not so little as to be unnoticed. "As long as you are able to move forward, no matter what the cost will be. Easy, when you are not the one to pay the price."

    "In war, there are always consequences. That''s the way the world runs!" Said the half-elf. "Innocent victims pay for the mistakes of those above them."

    "And do you think that''s fair? Even those who abhor conflict are dragged into it by you. Not only we elves. I am aware of many of what you call ''cleansing operations''."

    "It is necessary," no matter how wrong it might seem in the eyes of an outsider. The precepts of her faith were anchored in precise survival needs. "Attacking first is the only hope of salvation."

    "No," although the tone had faded, that resentment that could have cleaved the air was still perceptible. "It is you who have decided this way. Heedless of what the consequences might be, you humans bring desert to where once was green. And then call that peace."

    Antilene moved her arm. Aella closed her eyes. The gears of time stopped. Aella opened her eyelids again. Antilene was a few feet away from her, a melancholy expression on her face.

    "Do you think it''s that simple?" Was she asking the elf for an answer or was she looking for it within herself? "I would have endless gruesome stories I could tell you. Do you know what some trolls do to pregnant human women? Are you aware of the cattle farms in the center of the continent? Humans are on the edge of the food chain."

    "But you are not a human," Aella tried to brush back the hair that covered the sides of Antilene''s face. "Not entirely, at least."

    The half-elf human girl shook her hands away before they could reach their target.

    "I am human," Antilene pulled away. She stifled the uncertainty that was about to grip her and walked toward the library. "If you need, you know where to find me. Don''t worry, I don''t intend to go back on my word."

    She closed the door behind her, without looking back.

    They didn''t speak again for the rest of their stay.

    Middle Water Month, 1st day, 7.00

    It was his watch shift. Calush hated it. Of course, far better than serving in the royal palace, but it was not a very high bar to surpass.

    "Calush," his squad leader called him in that irritating toad-like voice of his. "You''ve been assigned to the upper part of the western zone. See that you don''t slack off as usual."

    "There will be no problems, Sergeant Tagore," prick. The only real danger in Crescent Lake was if that asshole decided to open his mouth so that everyone who lived in the capital could smell his stinking breath. "No intruder will be able to sneak in."

    But what intruders, anyway? In the span of his three hundred and twenty-five years of life -even though he had to admit that he still only looked like an elf of two hundred and seventy- no one had dared to approach the heart of Evasha''s kingdom.

    Even the army of the Theocracy, when it was still present in the forest, had not crossed a boundary that had been laid a few kilometers away.

    "There is no doubt about it," Sergeant Asshole raised his fist as a foreshadowing of the nefarious consequences that awaited in case of failure. "If not, prepare to face the king''s wrath."

    Calush was willing to bet that if the stupid sergeant brought any of his disobedience to the attention of the monarch, he would certainly fare no better than he did.

    The king was famous for not putting up with anyone who wasted his time.

    Note well: wasting time included a long and arbitrary list ranging from a simple audience to a greeting given at the wrong time.

    But he kept his mouth shut and headed to his seat like a good little soldier, as he did every day.

    Sergeant Sledgehammer In The Ass could spend another day in front of the mirror with that smile that didn''t hide his rotten teeth telling himself how good he was.

    The city streets were deserted. Unusual, but nothing unexpected, given the morning hour.

    "What do you think will happen today?" His teammates disturbed the calm of that beautiful morning. "An enemy raid? Or a siege?"

    Calush did not even look him in the eye before answering. "No, none of that, Reself," as indeed nothing had happened for more than four hundred years. "We will stay in our place like beautiful figurines decorating the landscape until the changing of the guard comes. As we have done every day for the last hundred years."

    "Aren''t you afraid that the Theocracy might attack us?"

    "The royal army has spent weeks eradicating the undead born of the massacre carried out by the king," fortunately for him, Calush had been exempted from the task. If he had no problem cracking a few human skulls, the same could not be said in dealing with the undead. It was not his fault that the filthy beasts made him uncomfortable. In his opinion, freaks were those who could see a corpse start to move without feeling their guts ignite in terror. "And the forest dwellers dare not approach, thanks to the protection of the lord of the lake." Perhaps the legend that a sea dragon inhabited the lake that Crescent Lake stood near was, indeed, just a legend. After all, no one had ever seen the self-styled monster. But as long as it would keep anyone unwelcome away, that was fine.

    "I see," no. He didn''t understand, but by now Calush had gotten used to it. His comrade wasn''t quite there in the head, but he was no trouble and knew his place. The royal army did not ask for more. Nor did he. "Oh, almost forgot. I heard interesting news from Quartem." Arriving at their post, a modestly sized gate that connected the capital with the rest of the forest, Reself broke the sacred silence with a phrase uttered far too many times in recent months.

    "Anything interesting?" Probably not. Quartem was famous for his habit of telling lies. By now one could count on the fingers of one hand the elves who believed his tales. Reself, of course, was one of them. "Last time it was about a giant centipede that had decided to befriend some of our rangers. Now what is it all about? A hive where bees make chocolate? Or a lake inhabited by the last fairies? If you ask me, the brothel of Dryads still remains the most interesting gossip. Too bad it wasn''t true."

    "This time it''s not nonsense," if he was so sure, then it had to be true, right? "It''s trustworthy news, coming from the royal rangers. Those who survived, at least."

    Calush sneezed. Cold air was circulating, and the chill was beginning to seep into his bones. Winter had come late that year; the summer uniform would soon have to be replaced with more suitable clothes.

    "What did you say?" It took him a few seconds to realize what he had heard. "Explain yourself."

    "We all know about the large army that was gathered to head to the center of the forest," the vision of that numerous streams of people was still etched in Calush''s mind. Never in his life had he seen such an impressive deployment of forces. "It looks like it''s not back yet."

    "Is that all?" And to think that for a moment he had almost believed that this was interesting for a change. "It must have been a couple of weeks at most. They must be taking their time to avoid coming back to this hovel."

    "It''s not just about that," one of the elves manning the entrance with them approached. A long scar covered his right eye and his long hair was held in a bun. He was not wearing a uniform, but there was nothing strange about that. Only a few veterans were equipped with state gear. These were rare cases; much of the army was left to its own devices. Calush was one of the lucky few as he had found the old abandoned clothing of some old lieutenant. "Reliable sources report to me that the whole army was annihilated."

    "And what would your reliable sources be? Quartem?" The stranger stared at him with one eye. A scarlet red one that resembled the color of blood. Calush felt unsettled, but he kept talking, pretending there was nothing strange about the elf. "I''m sorry to tell you, but everyone knows he''s a liar."

    "Are you sure?" That question seemed to have been asked merely as a formality, a predetermined part of an already-written script. "I was there. And I can assure you that it''s all true."

    "You mean the Theocracy has invaded us again?" Damn humans and their habit of reproducing like rabbits. Filthy creatures that multiplied only so they could disperse to the corners of the globe like starving carrion looking for remains to pluck. "Even so, which I think is unlikely, the king will repeat what he has done before. I hope so. No army of humans, heck no army of any unknown race can do anything against him!"

    Calush hated that scumbag king as much as anyone. But if there was one thing the bastard was good at, it was fighting. As long as he was alive, the elf kingdom would not fall.

    "Also, if you were there how are you still alive?"

    "That doesn''t matter."

    Someone else would point out that it mattered a lot. But Calush was not looking for trouble.

    "You''re only half right," the stranger explained. Calush still had no idea who he was. Usually, the guard shifts were predetermined and it was hard to see any new faces. A last-minute substitution? It could have been. "They actually sent only one person. And this person single-handedly wiped out the royal soldiers and some of the forest lords."

    Calush swallowed. This was a joke, wasn''t it?

    Calush looked at Reself, who unlike him seemed convinced. But Reself was a simpleton who believed everything.

    Calush felt his mind going astray. One person alone taking down an entire army? Yet their ruler had proven that it was not impossible.

    Dizziness that made his head spin was beginning to make him lose his bearings. He had to draw on all his strength to regain control.

    Only then he realized that the other elves on the team gathered around him. Not even one of their faces was recognizable. What was going on? He tried to grasp the bow he was carrying but determined that they would take him out before he could even prepare the first arrow.

    Defeated before he even started, a fitting end for a personality like his. A prayer was invoked, for at least the end would be painless. He did not relish a glimpse of the inside of his body.

    "Who are you?" Before returning to the creator, his curiosity needed to be satiated. "Rebels?"

    "No need to be so tense," the stranger was calm. Easy to be when you weren''t the one surrounded by dozens of people on the verge of killing you. "Yes, we are rebels. But don''t worry, we don''t intend to harm you. On the contrary."

    "What do you think, Calush?" Reself was bemused. What was going on inside that wormy head, no one could know. "They don''t seem to me to have bad intentions."

    Calush did not even dignify him with a reply. Judging by the weapons they wielded, those rebels seemed to be anything but well-intentioned.

    "What do you want from us?"

    "It''s simple. Join us and you will see the rise of a new era. The savior has come," the what now? "The tyranny of the bloody monarch ends today."

    Two alternatives were possible, in Calush''s judgment.

    The first was simple. A messiah had come from who knows where to deliver them from their suffering. A story laden with mysticism, in which a chosen one finally fulfilled his promised destiny, exorcizing evil from those lands after endless tribulations. A beautiful prophecy. Too bad that no shaman, priest, or other religious person had ever prophesied such nonsense.

    So the second hypothesis was far more convincing. The wound that had caused that scar had gone dangerously deep, grazing the brain and causing some neural damage.

    "What will you do if we have to refuse?" He certainly did not expect to be invited to have tea in case of a negative answer.

    "Can''t you imagine? " Pity, he would have been quite content even with hot milk in that cold weather.

    "I suppose I have no other choice," his mind switched to wondering if he would have time for one last trip to the pleasure house. Evangeline or Rosaline. One minute with either of them -or maybe both at the same time- and then he could have died satisfied. "I''ve always hated this place. I hope to leave some mess behind. What do you say, Reself? One last adventure before we part forever."

    "I''m with you!" Poor, stupid Reself. The enthusiasm he externalized by puffing out his pride-laden chest suggested that he had no idea what they were getting into. At least, unlike him, he would have the conviction to leave this world as a hero in the end. "I cannot stand by while valiant men fight for freedom!"

    "Perfect," said the elf with the scar. Even though everything had gone according to his plans he retained an unfathomable mask. Irritating. "Now I want you to take me to the place where your team leader is."

    "This will be easy," eliminating one''s superior? Every man and woman''s dream come true. "Follow me."

    The group moved away from the guard post -and to think he had been sincere that morning when he had promised not to move away- under Calush''s leadership.

    The streets continued to be deserted, on second thought it was a detail that should have caught their attention. Something big was about to happen.

    "This is it," the now traitor pointed the rebels to a small tower at the far end of the gateway where they mounted guard. "Sergeant Tagore should be there with just a few other guards."

    "Perfect," the scarred elf entered quickly, followed just as eagerly by his subordinates. "You guys can stay here if you want. It won''t take long."

    Calush and Reself looked at each other. "I''ll go in too," said his companion. "Staying here without doing anything doesn''t seem right to me."

    "If you feel like getting yourself killed, I won''t stop you."

    Left alone, Calush found himself alone in the company of his thoughts.

    ''In a few minutes, my whole existence was turned upside down. I always thought I would be cast out and spend the rest of my days as an outcast. Instead, here I am. Calush, the revolutionary. That doesn''t sound so bad. Maybe I will be the one to kill the king! Can you imagine?''

    He waited a few minutes, undecided about what to do. That stillness did not portend anything good.

    ''So much for the revolution. What if they had been killed on the spot? I hate him, but dickhead sergeant is a skilled warrior. What if I did all this for nothing? What if they come down now to label me a traitor to the homeland? What will become of me? Think Calush, think. Maybe I should run away and take refuge in the forest. Finding asylum in some remote tribe at the edge of the dark elves'' territory could be the best outcome for me. But why should they take me in?''

    Unsure of what to do, he began to imagine endless scenarios of what his fate would be. None of them had a happy ending.

    "Well, it''s make or break.''

    Resigned now to his grim end, Calush walked through the tower door and up the stairs leading to the command room.

    Surprisingly, it was not the rebels who had suffered losses. In fact, the only lifeless bodies were those of the sergeant and his guards.

    "Ah, you''ve come too," the rebel leader greeted him, intent on disposing of the corpses. "Help us arrange them in a dignified manner. Just because they were enemies doesn''t mean they shouldn''t be treated with respect. Your friend is not much help to us."

    Reself was sitting in a corner, his arms covering up his face. He was not hurt, not physically at least, but he kept muttering, "I didn''t want this, I didn''t want this!" as he rocked in despondency.

    Harsh reality had shattered his dreams of glory. Calush tried to feel compassion for him, but he couldn''t say Reself didn''t bring it on himself.

    Now looking at him lifelessly, Sergeant Tagore had also stopped provoking any reaction in him. So much for those fantasies in which he spit and pissed on his dying body while laughing his ass off.

    Calush laid down the body of his former superior with all the firmness and gentleness he possessed, without making a single comment. He laid a cloth over him and the other deceased guards, as if that futile gesture might bring relief to their souls. Trivially, it only served as a reminder that death was not with them.

    "What now?" He asked the elf with the scar. The latter was intent on issuing orders to his soldiers, and took a few seconds before directing his attention to him.

    "We wait," he replied. "I was lucky. I learned what I was interested in from him," he pointed to the sergeant''s still-covered body.

    "What did you want to know?"

    "Only the precise location of a certain place," he dismissed him in a few words. "Now get ready, it''s going to start soon."

    "What do you advise me to do?"

    "Survive."

 Chapter 29: Bloody Crown

    Interlude.

    The Death Lord''s smile

    "Welcome."

    A calm, muffled voice. But laden with an abiding vitality unusual for what was a dark shadow moving among the gloom of the dark night.

    "Don''t be afraid ... I won''t hurt you," as if reading my thoughts, the God of Death approached me, the soundlessness of his footsteps creeping into my mind. "Why are you here?" He asked, moved by genuine curiosity, almost childlike in its candor.

    I thought about what to answer, realizing that there was no simple way out of that situation. Yet there was no agitation.

    "I...," The hood of the robe he wore slipped off, a creepy face whose decaying, worn skin showed the horror of an unknown fear, ready to drag me with it into an astral world beyond the stars where reason gave way to madness.

    I begged my legs to stay still, but it was like asking a river to stop flowing. For a star to stop shining. For the sun to cease the emission of heat. Unthinkable.

    "Excuse me," The God who brings an end to all things concealed his features again under his robes, now only a pair of twinkling red eyes crackled beyond the dimness. "Sometimes I forget the effect my appearance has on ordinary people. Or maybe I am simply hopeful that one day I can say goodbye to these clothes that hide me from the outside world."

    An unpleasant feeling gripped my heart. Guilt. For letting my weaknesses bring sadness to the one who was my savior. My guardian.

    "No, I''m the one who should apologize," my head lowered, remembering the respect due. I prayed -to whom, if my God was there with me? - that my insult would be forgiven. That time would rewind and we would return to the beginning, erasing my mistake forever. "Forgive the insolence of this wretched woman. If your wrath must be appeased, I am ready to accept my punishment."

    "Get up," I felt something caress my shoulders. Skeletal fingers that had paused just as they were about to touch me, then quickly retracted with a rush of shame. "You don''t need to apologize."

    There was warmth in his voice, an unwarranted affection for an inferior being. I was relieved.

    An unexpected nostalgia was growing in me. The image of my father, whom I thought I had forgotten after long years had buried the memory of him in a deep well I dare not to open, began to appear in my mind.

    "This humble servant thanks her lord for the generosity shown," only now that my figure assumed a straight position did my robe attract the attention of the Immortal God.

    "You are one of them," he noted. "What do you call yourselves? Cardinals?"

    "That is correct, my lord," in my pride, I had thought that my position was known to those I worshiped. He imparted to me a lesson in humility that I would not forget as long as I lived. "We are the voice of the Gods. When you whisper, we shout. The vessel through which your teachings are not lost or forgotten. When you command, we sacrifice. Our life is only a tool with which to accomplish your purposes. When you are sad, we weep. May our tears connect us so as to alleviate the suffering you feel for having been banished in this world."

    I recited my mantra, my strength, to the one who had infused it with meaning.

    He turned away, as if unbearable pain crushed him on the spot, and then signaled for me to follow him.

    We began to move around the room, the memories of the other Gods were watching us as judges waiting to deliver their verdict. I had fabricated a story, where they had ascended to a plane we mortals could not comprehend, yet part of me believed they were still there, unseen, ready to end every injustice that plagued their nation.

    Hope? Or delusion?

    "Look," he pointed to a window, from which it was possible to lay eyes on the outside world. "What do you see?"

    The streets, deserted, held nothing remarkable to my imagination. Taken by despondency, I believed that this was evidence of which I could not glimpse the concealed meaning.

    "I see nothing, my lord," the truth was the only option left. Pleading that my foolishness would not be mistaken for irreverence, I returned the focus of my gaze to my God. "Why do you ask me this?"

    "What do you think I see?" How could I answer that question? There were no right answers. Blasphemy, just venturing to believe that I was able to grasp a pinch of what were the enigmas of a thought that shaped the universe.

    "The future," I tried to answer. "The infinite possibilities unfolding before us. A dream cloaked in hope for the well-being of the Theocracy." He did not sound very convinced. "Or the past. The goal achieved after years of bleeding sacrifices."

    "That''s certainly an answer," a light laugh, as pleasant as the sound of calm waves in the morning. "But it does not correspond to the truth."

    Unfazed by my mistake, I trudged out a sincere apology.

    "I see what you see. No more, no less," another test to pass? Confusion increased. "First you couldn''t answer, but then you found the courage to speak. Do you know why?"

    I shook my head, embarrassed by my ignorance.

    "You humans cannot unleash your potential unless you are sure there is some higher entity watching you," he had turned away from the window and returned to the center of the room to sit on a worn chair. "Now that your Gods are gone you have found some stratagem to preserve the normalcy you have so strenuously achieved, lest your castle collapse like sand dunes during the desert storm."

    "We are not left alone. You stayed with us, my lord."

    "Yes," there was an all too human loneliness in that voice, broken by weaknesses and precariousness not befitting a superior being. Not befitting him. "At least for the time being..."

    That he also intended to leave us? To rejoin his comrades?

    The God of Death, the lord of darkness and the bringer of the end to all things, was just a tired man who missed his affections. So mundane as to be profound. Or perhaps my impressions were distorted by preconceptions from which I could not detach myself.

    Left alone in that tower that had been built around him, raised so high as to touch the sky. However, for his captive was only an empty tomb, in which the only hope was to rot in eternity.

    "Please," seeing him so sad made me sad, too. I could not refrain from voicing my thoughts. "Don''t abandon us!"

    Was it selfishness on my part? How could a pathetic human like me dare to plead with a God? Unmindful of my sin, I knew I would pay for my mistake. But at that moment it didn''t matter.

    "What is your name?" The expectations of eternal torment that I thought would be imposed on me were unfulfilled. Instead, I found myself having to respond to something unexpected.

    "Elisa," my name had nothing special, common to so many others. What it meant; I didn''t know. "This is not the first time we have met. Although I was only a child at the time."

    "Oh," no wonder he didn''t recognize me. My now adult and wrinkled body showed signs of an old woman. The stupid child of the time was no more, replaced by weariness and regrets. "I can''t say I remember you."

    A pang in my chest. I was aware that he did not remember me. Yet I could not hold back that gloom that dampened my soul.

    "I''m not surprised," I tried to remain calm and impassive. Ah, what a shame if a woman of my age had externalized such childish emotions. "My lord, do you remember an uncultivated expanse and beastly men chasing refugees? I was there at the time."

    A light illuminated his face. "Yes, I think I remember. You are the child of that day."

    Only then did I realize how long I had been waiting for that encounter. A clarifying realization dispelled my uncertainties.

    That day, I was saved. Not only from earthly death but also from spiritual one.

    Surshana, the God of Death, had given meaning to my pathetic life. By providing me with a purpose, he had brought hope to a little lost child, rekindling the spark of life in me.

    "I''m glad you remembered me," something moist brushed my cheeks. Tears. Foolishly, I looked pathetic. I wanted to hide, not to show him my weaknesses.

    "There''s no need to cry," he approached me again. This time I did not let my fears get the better of me. I allowed his rangy fingers to wipe away my tears. There was a strange warmth in them, almost paternal. For a moment I thought that my father himself had come back to life, so that he could protect me once again.

    In writing these words, I wonder if mine were not crazy impressions, but inexplicable truths. We did not know where the Gods had come from, after so many years it remains an inscrutable mystery. Perhaps my father and others had found a way to ascend to powers that were precluded to ordinary mortals. Or perhaps I still remained that frightened child who wanted nothing more than to hug her father one last time.

    A sweet lie I was telling myself to cope with a pain I had never accepted.

    Now that I am about to cross the last threshold, I can say that I prefer to believe in that sweet lie. The truth is more bitter.

    We stayed together for a few more minutes, until a voice familiar to me woke us from our warmth.

    "Master, is this human disturbing you?" The speaker had been the First Disciple, spokesman for the will of the God in those years. Seeing them side by side, I realized how striking their similarity was.

    "No, Rufus. No need for you to worry," they looked like father and son. One, upright and solemn. The other, hanging on his lips, waiting for an order. "Cardinal Elisa had only decided to keep me company on this starless night."

    "I see," Rufus looked at me as intensely as one looks at a hated enemy. I felt crushed by that overwhelming pressure; had it not been for Surshana''s presence I would have begun to fear for my own safety. "But the hour has grown late. Don''t you think it''s time to retire, Cardinal?"

    He did not give me time to answer. Rufus began to escort me out of the room. If Surshana''s touch was unexpectedly gentle and warm, his disciple''s was cold and ghostly. Perhaps the appellation God of Death would have been more appropriate for Rufus than for Surshana.

    "Before I leave, let me pay my respects," having arrived at the door, my body stretched out on my knees to show its devotion. "If I could be of service, do not hesitate to request my services."

    "I will," an enigmatic expression peeped out on his rarefied face. Call me stupid, but I like to believe it was a smile, however barely discernible. "Now go, my child."

    Those were the last words I heard him utter, at least until this moment.

    Thus ended my second and final encounter with the God of Death.

    Life continued with its natural course. It didn''t take long for my body to reach its limit. I left my duties to a new generation, younger and more promising than I had ever been.

    My strength is beginning to leave me, but I do not tremble at the end. For I know that when the time comes, I can meet him again, one last time.

    Chapter 29

    Bloody Crown

    ?

    An empty throne. A royal hall too large for the few people in it.

    A boy in the center. Little more than a child, his hands are stained with blood. The stained-glass window on the ceiling reflects a blue light, edged with a teal that imparts its grace with calm force, bathing the young man in a soothing aura, in stark antithesis to the viciousness of the scene.

    At his feet, the corpse of one of his kind. The body is contorted into an agonizing position, begging a plea for mercy that never came.

    Screams of astonishment. A handful of soldiers burst into the royal hall. They see the scene. There is no time for them to process what is happening. Their ruler on the ground, deceased. Their queen, what remains of her, on the wall, splattered. Concubines and ministers scream for help.

    The boy remains in his place. The chaos that ensues seems natural to him. He reaches down to take the crown placed on his victim''s head. He pulls it off with such force that it disfigures the now lifeless face of what was until just now the most important man in the entire kingdom.

    There is no respect, for only his peers can have it, nor compassion, a weakness unknown to him. A coldness devoid of emotion.

    He takes the crown and places it on his head. His long white hair begins to turn a deep red. The drops of blood look like precious jewels, whose radiance makes the boy''s loveliness shine.

    He is so beautiful as to seem unreal. A face that seems to have been carved from the finest marble, delicate skin that would make the most precious silk pale in comparison. His eyes, two different colors, one as dark as the blackest night while the other white and pure as snowflakes, look like stars detached from the sky.

    The armor that protects him is not what someone would expect a boy of his age to wear. The material is unknown, but so precious that it is blinding with its splendor. A masterpiece of The Divine Forge, the lava of a volcano molded its texture, the hammers that crafted the highest mountain peaks and smoothed the lush valleys redefined its form, decorated the plates, and honed the shine.

    It is the armor that is due to a conqueror, yet it seems so fitting worn by the young man. A match made in Heaven.

    Were it not for the grave crime of which he was guilty, all present would have stopped everything to contemplate his magnificence. They would have lusted after him, as one covets a precious diamond, drawn to possess something they could never obtain, but only admire.

    Uncertainty commands the fleeting moment. The boy begins to move, heedless of the reactions of others. His silence speaks more than a thousand words.

    The guards finally realize what is happening. Their king is dead. The killer is still with them. If they could not save their ruler, they can at least avenge him.

    They snap, moved by blind fury. They are trained, they are dangerous. In death, they can find their forgiveness.

    The spearheads heat up, a bright fire burns fiercely. Consume the air with its ardor.

    They strike.

    The boy does not stop. As if an insolent insect had decided to disturb his peace, he moves his hand to crush that annoyance.

    "[Fire Storm]."

    The whole area is shot through with sheets of roaring flame. The difference is what there is between the blazes of a burning inferno and the small spark that causes the rubbing of two wooden sticks.

    The assailants have no time to realize their mistake. They are consumed. Skin dissolves, bones crumble. What were aspirations, dreams, and hopes are now just ashes that the wind scatters. Their remains are part of the cycle of life once again.

    It''s not over yet.

    Lightning bolts fulminate the arrows. Bows shoot, small thunderbolts flash toward their target.

    "[Wall Earth]."

    The earth moves at the call of its rightful master. It rises and makes a shield, protecting him. Lightning sparkles, electricity is consumed, and the boy is undamaged.

    "[Earthquake]."

    Not yet satiated, a tremendous tremor rips the ground. Fissures open in the soil; victims fall into a bottomless abyss.

    Fear envelops the survivors with its touch. It infects like a disease the emotions of the remaining souls. It leaves no escape. In its spread, there is a cruel fairness.

    The boy has reached his goal. A few centimeters separate him from the symbol of command. But a thought takes hold of him. Before he can reclaim his position, he must make himself recognized as the rightful ruler.

    To do so, he requires a demonstration.

    "Behemoth!"

    A whirlwind of sand begins to gain substance. Particles of dust and soil combine in infinite combinations until they acquire solid form. The head an amalgam of dust and rocks. Arms that can maintain the world with their mightiness glow with precious metals. The wrath of nature materializes in all its power. The creature emits a high-pitched shriek to show that it has come into the world. That it is alive.

    "Destroy!"

    The order is given. The command is imprinted in its essence. The only thing Behemoth knows is to satisfy its master. Not a living being, but an instrument that exists only to carry out his will.

    To rebuild, it is first necessary to tear everything down. Only in this way can his vision rest on a solid foundation. The strength of a tree can be seen by its roots, not its branches. A precious lesson the boy carries in his heart.

    ''Then let there be destruction,'' a sacrifice he is willing to make, as the ice in his chest pumping the blood can''t be called heart. ''May your death be the seed that will make my empire sprout!''

    Screams of pain replace the birdsong. The roaring fronds of the trees try unsuccessfully to cover the screams for help. A slaughter that brings despair to the streets, alleys, and homes. There is no escape.

    Time passes. The clock moves its hands. The boy is satisfied.

    The creature retreats, now its task has been accomplished. The beige color of the earth has changed, now tainted with a bright red.

    A few gather in the throne room. They are confused, frightened; in need of someone who could guide them.

    "Who are you?" They ask, unsure of the cataclysm that has befallen them. The last source of security they know, the monarch, is the only thing they can cling to.

    Formen Gwaew, the north wind, begins to blow. It is a sign. Change has come. Only those who can adapt will live. Others are unwelcome in the new age.

    "I am the king," the boy takes place on his rightful throne. How long he had waited for this moment. His new subjects bow at the sight of his power, sing choirs in awe of his magnificence. "Rise! Celebrate your true ruler!"

    With the corpse of the false king still in the hall, the elves begin. A round of applause. Then suddenly another. Then another and, within seconds or minutes, yet another incessant rush of clapping hands.

    Hysterical faces try to maintain an insincere smile. The skin of the hands begins to wear away, until the bones are visible, but the young elf makes no sign of stopping. It is necessary to test the devotion of these inferior beings.

    Now everything has come to fruition. Savoring success, Decem places his left hand on the left armrest of the throne with a firm, sure grip. He moves his right hand ... his fingers only graze the other armrest.

    Middle Water Month, 1st day, 07.00

    Antilene could not contain the agitation, which overflowed like a swollen river. The small tent was now furrowed by her footsteps, each one an invocation to the deities.

    "Fire, burn the doubts that grip my soul," with the aid of a nib, she had begun tracing the symbols of the Six Gods on the vacant spaces. "Earth, give my body the strength it needs to sweep my enemies."

    That narrow space had been fashioned as a sacred chapel, where faith met reason.

    "Wind, make my mind flexible for every eventuality," the hand continued its task with precision. "Water, let my heart be endowed with the steadfastness that knows mercy and wisdom."

    Doubt made way for certainty. Ritual gave body to her determination, disciplined turbulent emotions, directed cruel vengeance toward a noble end.

    "Light, allow your justice to shine upon the world and blind the wicked," was not just a useless waste of time. Through those gestures and words, she felt the presence of the Gods watching over her. "Darkness, may it be that my offering appeases your sorrow."

    When she was satisfied, she slipped on her armor, by now the inseparable friend of a thousand battles, and grabbed Charon''s Guidance, the best friend a girl could ask for.

    The sacred helmet watched its owner from the chair on which it rested.

    "One last time together," for she who had always been alone, the weapons had become inseparable companions, the armor irreplaceable confidants. "This may be the last time we fight together. Funny, isn''t it? My nerves are firm. The hesitation is gone. I didn''t think I would be so calm right now, but here I am."

    Of course, the helmet did not respond. Antilene had not expected otherwise. She arranged her hair in an elaborate braid to make room for it.

    "If I don''t make it... What am I thinking? There''s no point in mulling over stupid what-ifs. No matter what, everything changes today."

    She took one last look at the items she had decided to take with her. Blood of the Gods potions, scrolls containing spells of various tiers, from the first to the fourth, and some earrings that protected against various statuses.

    "Oh...you may as well stay here," the half-elf stowed the journal her teacher had given her just before the trip. It had been slightly creased, and the pages had yellowed even more. "Maybe I should have treated you with more care. I hope Rufus doesn''t take it too hard. Rufus¡­ Who knows what he''s doing now, probably polishing objects in the treasure room or writing memoirs about some half-known official."

    Thinking back to her old master led Antilene to recall with sweet nostalgia the house she had left behind. A taste sweet as honey and bitter like a lost love.

    "When I was locked up in Silksuntecks, I couldn''t wait for the time I would leave, and now that I''m here, I''m homesick. The inner machinations of the mind are an unsolvable riddle."

    Never before had the expression ''uncertainty of tomorrow'' been so fitting. But soon she would have to make her choice.

    "Lady Zesshi," a voice from outside drew her attention. "May I come in?"

    "Go ahead," the curtains of the tent unfolded to let in a man of short stature with a red cloak on his shoulders. "Ah, it''s you, Time Turbulence. How can I help you?"

    The second seat of the Black Scripture pulled out from his vest pocket a small watch tied to a pure silver chain, a reliquary of the Gods. "I am sorry to disturb you, but the time has come," he handed Antilene his gadget so that she could check for herself the veracity of that statement. "The others are waiting for us outside. When you are ready, we can begin."

    "No need to wait," the half-elf took one last look at the diary. She stowed it away in a bag and placed it on a wooden stand. "I am ready. Let''s go."

    Outside, the rest of her team was already in position. They had split into two squads. Logem and the other elves would create confusion in the western wall that protected the capital. The Theocracy Scripture, on the other hand, would take advantage of the confusion and sneak in from the east side.

    "Lady Zesshi!" When they saw her, all the other Black Scripture members rushed to kneel to show respect. An unnecessary practice, she would have liked to say. But that had been explained with no avail so many times over the years that by now the only thing possible was giving up. If they had wanted to do all those accolades, why prevent them from doing so?

    Only one person continued to remain in the same position. Aella was giving her a defiant look as if to say ''Why don''t you make me bow too?'' but Antilene had promptly ignored it.

    "How are things from the capital?" She asked the elf, returning her challenging glance. "Has Logem managed to break in?"

    "He just sent me a message," Aella approached, handing her a map. "He is in the civilian district. His group is starting to recruit all the possible dissidents who are in the capital."

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    "Perfect," certainly those who wanted to overthrow her father were not an exiguous number. Soon their ranks would be swelled with the disgruntled and desperate who were not afraid to oppose the king. "The dragon?"

    "Ashukar is in position," Time Turbulence replied, his gaze locked on the passing of the hands of the clock, as if that could freeze time. "He is carrying out his mission right now. Once it''s done, he will catch up with us."

    "We can go then!" But before Antilene could take a step, she was stopped with a pat on the shoulder by Aella.

    "One moment, please. We''re not all there yet."

    "Uh," the half-elf''s eyes widened into a puzzled wide frown. She went over in her mind all the actors in that play, thinking she had missed some, but everyone was there. "What do you mean?"

    "Now you''ll see."

    The trees began to move. The ground vibrated, as if exposed to continuous small earthquakes. From the forest began to arrive those to whom Aella was referring.

    Divine Chain was the first to realize what was happening. "Those are..." As their form began to take shape, even those who were the heroes of humanity, veterans of a thousand battles, could not hold back their astonishment.

    "Tch... giants!" Myriad Barriers moved even before he could think, shielding himself between his comrades and those titans made of wood and leaves. "I will not let you pass!"

    But the giants, a total of about thirty, did not move. They stayed there, waiting for orders.

    "They do not seem to have bad intentions," Divine Chant noted that none of the peculiar newcomers seemed in the process to launch an attack.

    "I sense no hostility from them," One Thousand League Astrologer agreed with him, nevertheless the inside of her bag started to shake, a ferocious growl could be heard coming from it. "Although they may be just good at concealing bloodlust as us."

    "...I... I won''t give them time," the sphere of Infinite Magic began to glow with a cobalt light. "If they take another step, they will burn like dry twigs."

    "Don''t worry," putting herself between the two factions, Aella reassured the agents of the Theocracy, motioning for the defender to lower his shields. "They are on our side."

    "Why are we only learning about this now?" Antilene''s attention was locked on the newcomers. Despite their cartoony appearance, with those disproportionate arms made of broken wood and bushes filled with animals growing on their limbs, they were still one of the most dangerous breeds of nonhumans. "Did you maybe want to hide something from us?"

    "It was not my intention," strangely the elf''s words sounded sincere. "But you have to understand that it was unwise to reveal all our cards to you from the start. Ours was not the most cordial of meetings. Don''t you agree?"

    Aella did not wait for an answer. Approaching the giant who headed the line, she began to give him precise instructions.

    "What shall we do?" Divine Chain gave voice to everyone''s thoughts. "Fighting together with giants would be ... well, it would not respect protocols. Already asking the elves for help could get us in trouble with the Cardinals."

    "You don''t have to worry about that," Astrologer reassured him, adjusting the bow that was falling from her head for the earlier turmoil. "In the past few days, I had communications with Cardinal Raymond. The Council is ready to pass over any of our ... irregularities as long as we bring home results."

    "In short, to kill the king we are authorized to use any means."

    The elf woman, meanwhile, had finished speaking and closed Antilene and the Black Scriptures again with confident steps.

    "We can go."

    "You still haven''t explained to me how the giants will be able to help us," Antilene stopped her, before she could move another inch. In the confined spaces of the capital, the mobility of those beings would be compromised. They could have caused more problems than expected if there had been no exemplary coordination. "I guess you intend to use them to break through the walls and cause unrest in the city.

    "Take a good look at Crescent Lake, what do you see?" Aella had pointed to their target a few feet away, bringing the half-elf''s attention to it. "It''s not like a human city. The trees grow out of all proportions and blend in with the buildings. That is precisely why the wood giants will come in handy. They are druids capable of controlling the forest. Their magics will change the formation of the land. Trees will begin to distort, branches to bend, roots to emerge, and the capital rangers will eventually lose their advantage."

    "I see," a bolder plan than she had expected. Antilene mentally complimented the elf. Maybe she wasn''t so bad. "The giants will not come in with us?"

    "They will wait out here. In case of outside danger, they will also act as sentries. That way we will be sure that no monsters can disturb our plan." Before they could get going, however, Aella stopped them. "One last thing," she said, her voice expressing an unexpected pleading tone. "Try not to kill unless strictly necessary. Many of the inhabitants will be frightened and desperate. I am not asking you not to act if put in danger. Only, try to show compassion."

    "We will," Antilene sought the approval of her comrades. As unusual as the request was, there was a debt to repay to the elves. "I promise."

    Aella clasped her hands in hers. "...Thanks!" She pronounced only that banal word, but the half-elf felt the gratitude the elf was timidly trying to convey.

    "Let''s go."

    To call the fortifications that surrounded Crescent Lake walls would have been far too generous a compliment. They were more akin to palisades laid out for good measure. Nevertheless, Antilene understood why they were sufficient.

    The heart of Evasha''s kingdom was an unraveling of veins and arteries made of plants and shrubs. Endless vegetation made every part of the city an intricate maze that only skilled rangers could make the most of.

    Had they entered blindly, so many possible ambushes would have had to be taken into consideration that there would not have been time to catch the king by surprise.

    "Just a couple of sentries," Astrologer had closed her eyes in concentration, activating [Scry] magic. "They shouldn''t be a problem. Looks like a lot of them are falling back to the west side."

    "Logem kept his word," and now it was Antilene''s turn to do the same. "Divine Chain, do you want to take care of that?"

    Edgar nodded, preparing his chain for combat. "I''ll be back in a moment." The tattooed man moved as fast as a cheetah who found its prey, swiftly leaping over the walls and catching one of the archers standing guard by surprise.

    The sacred chain clung to the legs of the elf, who was hurled violently at the approaching reinforcements. A spearman tried to attack the thirteenth Black Scripture seat from behind, but the latter dodged the blow gracefully and then grabbed the spear shaft. Pulling it like a rope, he brought his opponent closer, only to finish him off with a right hook to the jaw.

    The knuckles of his fist had not yet dislodged that half a dozen arrows headed in his direction. The chain moved suddenly, the space between the links suddenly expanded, then closed in like pincers as the points entered their space, breaking them on contact.

    The fragments fell to the ground, astonishment painted on the faces of the assailants. Edgar closed the distance and once again used the chain to trap his enemies.

    "[Metal Prison], [Fragments of Pain]."

    The bindings began to tighten, tiny metal blades formed from the metal rings. There was no time to utter a cry for help, and the poor men found themselves unconscious on the ground.

    "Okay, all clear," after making sure the elves were still breathing, Edgar motioned the other Black Scripture members to join him.

    "Good job," Antilene congratulated him, but the man seemed much more interested in the elf who was with them. He wagged his tail like a little dog waiting to receive his reward from his owner.

    "See, Miss Aella? They are all alive!"

    "Um... I''m truly impressed, Mr. Divine Chain," the woman rolled her eyes, hoping that that awkward moment would end soon. "I am infinitely grateful to you."

    Edgar''s face lit up with satisfaction.

    "Idiot," Astrologer commented, frazzled by that ludicrous display. "Imagine what the Cardinals would say if they saw you in this state."

    "We''ll think about it once we''re back in the Theocracy," Myriad Barriers brought them back to reality, his trademark seriousness remaining undaunted on his face. "Miss Aella, where do we go from here?"

    "Follow me," Aella leapt down the walls and then began to run. "The market district is nearby. It won''t take us long to get there."

    As she followed, Antilene had to admit that Crescent Lake was much more beautiful than her imagination had thought.

    The humans, in building their settlements, imparted a destructive force that swept away anything that might go against their quest for progress and technology. The environment became a space that was reshaped to meet their needs, in the grip of constant change that sought perfection. It was therefore not strange that the important cities of the kingdoms of men -Theocracy included- tended to change rapidly according to new technological innovations.

    In the capital of elves, however, a contrasting approach had been followed. Nature was not an enemy to be annihilated or subdued, but a valuable ally to cooperate with. The villages of the Evasha Forest had made this teaching their own, seeking the best way to be able to live in harmony with all of creation.

    Crescent Lake was the ultimate expression of this philosophy. Both houses and stores had been carved out of the wood of living trees, probably with the help of Druidic magic that had made it possible to reshape them without causing a hazard to the plants, which blended perfectly with the scenery in a marriage of art and modernity.

    "Gorgeous," Antilene found herself open-mouthed commenting on the sight of some of the stores covered in a light blue hue. "It''s as if the sky had been brought here to earth, to brighten the shadows produced by the foliage."

    "...It used to be even more breath-taking," Aella was seized with melancholy, a longing for a past that wasn''t here anymore. "Before they took me away, I remember how shopkeepers would change the color of the streets and stores according to the seasons or a particular event. I loved it so much; it was like seeing different little rainbows every day."

    "What changed?" It was hard to think that at one time that place could be even more awe-inspiring.

    "The war," the melancholy disappeared, to make room for a resentment that never abated. "When the Theocracy attacked us, and our young men began to die and be captured we began to lose what little joy we had left. The king had taken away our present, our traditions. You robbed us of our future, our dreams."

    Antilene remained silent.

    The other Black Scripture members also said nothing. Divine Chain cast a sidelong glance at Aella, then quickly withdrew it in shame. Time Turbulence pretended nothing, or perhaps he was indeed uncaring. Astrologer lovingly caressed the creature inside her purse, the lenses of her glasses covered her eyes. Myriad Barriers began to pray, a murmur that sought absolution. Infinite Magic had become practically invisible under her giant hat. Divine Chant cleared her throat with unrest, attempting with her singing to chase off the awkward quiet.

    Feelings of guilt? Or just that hypocrisy that could make dreams free of remorse?

    "Stop," Aella halted her run, raising an arm to signal others to do the same. "They are here."

    The absence of noise was itself a warning. The streets were deserted, devoid of life. Holed up in their dwellings, the elves had isolated themselves from the outside world, foolishly thinking that windows would save them from any danger.

    Those who had remained to mount a stalwart resistance were waiting for the right opportunity. If not in the sword, in the mind was the last spark of a candle now on the verge of exhaustion called courage.

    "The royal army is in disarray," those few soldiers who were still left alive were largely the scraps, reserves of the reserves lost in the untangled chaos of the battlefield. "The only thing the survivors must be wondering is ''why?'' "

    For a coup, it was proceeding far too methodically. Although it was her first experience, Antilene would have imagined hellish noises heralding a tsunami of panic and disorder.

    As she thought about how often reality is only a distorted mirror of expectations, the earth began to shake.

    At first, it was almost imperceptible, only superhuman senses could have noticed it. But then it began to increase in intensity, stronger and stronger until it erupted with all its power.

    The trees moved. The sturdy trunks of the beech trees became soft, writhing as if in the grip of an incessant dance from which they could not escape. The deep roots of the birch trees rose to the sky, tired of that ceaseless darkness of the underground to reach for the sunlight. The branches of the elms joined their fellows, flinging their hosts to the ground.

    Before long, nature was aging rapidly, growing by seconds¡­minutes¡­months¡­years. The geography of the place stirred like a watery whirlpool drawing everything to its inescapable center of gravity.

    Tree houses found themselves glued to the ground. Streets divided, joined, and changed places. Hills became plains, and plains became hills.

    "This is the work of giants!" Commented Divine Chain without restraining his astonishment, the body teetering to keep its early balance. "Look! The elves are going nuts."

    As expected, now that the onslaught had begun in earnest, the inhabitants had thought it wiser to take cover and try to save their own skins than to embark on a futile battle.

    The two sides became invisible to each other. A compromise that would benefit both parties involved.

    "...Now is the time," Aella tried to maintain composure but the frenzy with which she crunched the nail of her left thumb was clear evidence of her state of mind. Even though Crescent Lake had betrayed her, it had still been her home. "The royal palace is only a few minutes away."

    ''Aella is shaken by what''s happening,'' Antilene did not judge her for it. How would she have reacted if Silksuntecks had faced the same disaster? Would she have been able to keep her cool like the elf did? The mind told her yes, but instinct gave her a negative answer. ''Gods willing, no cataclysm comparable to this will ever strike the Theocracy.''

    "Mom!" A little girl''s cry. At the beginning of the disaster, the elves had abandoned their dwellings as quickly as possible. The little girl must have been separated from her parents amid the confusion.

    And now the shaft of a collapsing tree was about to crush her.

    "Damn-," Aella moved as fast as her body allowed. No, much more. But it was not enough. "I''m not going to make it-"

    A shadow walked past her. Antilene had heard the same cry for help, and moved accordingly.

    The tree collapsed. But the child was already safe.

    "Mommy, Mommy!" She re-embraced her parents who, nearly dead from fright, could now breathe a sigh of relief.

    Aella was visibly shaken, but she pretended that nothing happened.

    They resumed their race. Fortunately, or perhaps it would have been better to say ''as planned'', the king''s palace had not been involved in their plans. Soaring in its pride, its grandeur was an open invitation to reach it as soon as possible.

    "Are you all right?" Trying to make friends at that moment was sheer madness. But Antilene needed to distract herself before the fatal hour, and deep inside she was still sorry for the way things had gone with Aella a few days earlier. "While you are waiting outside you should have Divine Chant sing something to you. An outstanding bard like her will be perfectly able to relieve you of any bad thoughts that hold you down."

    "...You don''t have much experience in consoling people, do you?" Hit and burn. If not for the helmet covering her face, the half-elf would have turned her gaze away to avoid being caught in her inherent foibles. "Have you spent your whole life locked up in a tower like some sort of princess?"

    "... I have."

    "...I didn''t want to... you know, offend you."

    "It''s all right," she reassured her. Embarrassment was the perfect way to break the ice. "If today goes well, it won''t be like that anymore." At least, that was what Antilene told herself.

    "When this is over, I will-" The rest of the words were not spoken. A roar that sounded like the wail of an enraged deity ripped through the sky.

    Driven by blind fury, an unworldly creature mocked all obstacles that stood between its prey. Two elves covered in gleaming blue armor guided its unstoppable run.

    "That''s a Verakia!" Aella tried to take cover from the savage beast that grew closer by the second. "Flee, before it is too late. Or madness will take control of you!"

    The humongous Verakia had draconic lower bodies with four reptilian feet, the front two ending in huge talons, and a long, spiked tail. Its more humanoid upper torsos had large, powerful arms ending in two-fingered hands, the inner finger of each being larger than the outer finger and tipped by a serrated, inward-curving, scythe-like claw. The head had three horns, two angling downward like a bull''s and a third at the rear of the head curving backward. A long-forked tongue like that of a serpent could be found within its cavernous maws, the corners of which billowed with red smoke caused by the blood-red flames that could be seen glowing within its throat.

    ''It seems I had not eliminated every forest lord,'' Charon''s Guidance was about to claim a new offering, another one for its collection, but Antilene was stopped short.

    "You cannot waste energy here, Lady Zesshi," Time Turbolence and the Black Scriptures had stepped forward. Perhaps bored with the little action they had seen so far, or maybe driven by a genuine duty of protection, they had drawn their weapons. "For opponents of this caliber, we are sufficient. Trust us. Divine Chain, you protect Miss Aella!"

    "Yessir!"

    "Myriad Barriers, it''s your turn!"

    Cedran activated his defensive martial arts. "[Fortress], [Invulnerable Fortress]." The well-trained body was enveloped in a gray light, his muscles bulging, his posture as firm as a rock.

    But compared to the lord of the forest, he was a babe trying to face an adult in the full of their forces. Aella looked away, expecting the disaster.

    Instead...

    "What?" Reopening her eyes, she saw that the eighth seat of Black Scripture had given credence to his martial arts names and made his defense an impenetrable fortress. Friction with the monster''s horns and the imposing shields had stopped the latter''s run, but not its fury, which continued to be externalized with gruesome sounds as its legs pushed to make their way. "How did he do it?"

    "Watch closely. This is the way humans fight." Antilene pointed with a confident motion of her arm, satisfaction could not be hidden by her voice. "They are my dear disciples, after all. Compared to what they have been through, this is nothing. My training is not so lenient."

    Taking a closer look, the elf noticed something strange. Behind Myriad Barriers the woman known as Divine Chant was singing an inspirational melody. Now that she listened intently, Aella felt an unfamiliar freshness run through her body, making it as light as a feather and at the same time as mighty as a mount.

    "This is bardic magic," unaccustomed to feeling pervaded by such refreshing energy, it took Aella a few seconds to regain her composure. "Unbelievable."

    "And that''s not all!"

    Cedran was not the only one keeping their opponent at bay. Astrologer had unzipped her purse, and a blackish-furred ferret had emerged from inside it. Despite its small stature, the animal had latched onto the Verakia''s right leg and started eating the skin until its sharp teeth sank down to the bone.

    "Way to go honey!" When it came to her pet, Cassandra showed an unexpected cheerfulness. Her eyes twinkled like those of a maiden in love. "Show them what a real monster is like!"

    The creature was evidently in pain, its torso twitching in irregular spasms. The elves began to move, Cedran their target, to end the standoff.

    "Oh, I won''t let you do that," Time Turbolence vibrated through the air. He pulled out his pocket watch -the same one he had shown Antilene a few hours earlier- and landed right between the two enemies, striking with two quick lunges the exposed points of their protections.

    The two barely accused what they considered only a light jab and, confident in their strength, began the counterattack.

    The elf on the left drew a saber covered with glittering gems. With a slashing blow, he ripped through the right arm of the second Black Scripture seat.

    The elf on the right cast a spell, a staff of fine oak touched the skin of the monster on which they were leaning, and launched a blaze that burned the body of Saturno.

    ¡­

    The elf on the left drew a saber covered with glittering gems. With a slashing blow, he missed the right arm of the second seat of the Black Scripture by inches. He felt agitated, as if in the grip of a strange sensation, but paid it no attention. Suddenly ... a slight imbalance. Saturno''s rapier had struck him in the neck, barely grazing his skin but not going too deep.

    The elf on the right cast a spell, a staff of prized oak touched the monster''s skin on which they were leaning, and launched a blaze that struck his companion, however, since the second seat had been quick enough to dodge it.

    The elf on the left felt his body prey to the burns, but he endured it. With the aid of martial arts, he provoked a slash of air that swept through Saturno, splitting him in half.

    The elf on the right cast a fireball, reducing the remains of Time Turbulence to ashes.

    ¡­

    The elf on the left felt his body fall prey to the burns, his senses became confused, vision blurred; a desire to vomit took hold of him, but he resisted. With the aid of martial arts, he provoked a slash of air that swept right through his companion, cutting him in half.

    The elf on the right was about to cast magic, his staff pointed at his target, when he felt his vision split. His separated body crumpled to the ground like an apple falling from a tree.

    "It is all useless," Saturno gave the survivor the coup de grace, his rapier penetrating his rival''s torso, piercing him through and through. The elf followed his partner, all the while his body was still in spasms. "My skill altered your perception of reality, buffing your brain''s synaptic connections. Unfortunately, this comes with a price. Your mind moves faster than your body does, with your imagination filling the gaps."

    No one was listening to him, but he thought he needed to give an explanation as a final gift. "A few more seconds before your body realizes it is dead. The battle was over the moment I stuck you."

    The second seat saw his enemy slowly lose strength until even the last movements ceased.

    "Ten seconds. A new record," he muttered, staring at his watch. "And now," he pointed the tip of his blade at Verakia''s head. "Let''s put an end to this."

    The rapier penetrated the beast''s flesh, but could not go too deep. "Tch," despite the fact that the creature was beginning to wriggle out of the new pain that had been inflicted on it, it also continued to press down on Myriad Barriers, now on the verge of giving way. "Infinite Magic, you finish him off." With a somersault, Saturno pulled away.

    "... Okay," Aradia hovered in the air through the use of [Fly]. "Let''s begin. [Magic Arrow]."

    The orb she carried began to glow with power, enchanted arrows departed from it until they struck the Verakia. The monster''s skin did not feel the blow.

    "Hum..." a hand emerged from the hat he wore on his head, imitating with a bizarre and ungainly motion a negative point. "[Magic Arrow], [Magic Arrow]."

    The number of arrows doubled, but the result remained the same.

    The 11th seat frowned thoughtfully. The giant hand began to rub her chin. "Let''s try it this way. [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow], [Maximize Magic: Magic Arrow]."

    One, two, three, four, five... ten...twenty...fifty...one hundred...two hundred arrows covered the clouds in the sky and fell like raindrops on the Verakia lord. The latter began to feel the blows, flaps of skin peeled off showing bare flesh.

    "Ah...Ah...Ah," an unconvinced laugh with a bored aftertaste. "[Fireball], [Fireball], [Fireball], [Fireball]."

    Four fireballs centered squarely on the beast''s legs. The pain had reached its peak. The forest lord slumped to the ground alive, but helpless.

    "...Let''s get it over with," Aradia continued to remain impassive but, as if conveying his true emotions, the giant hat began to twirl in amused and increasingly clownish motions the hands that sprouted from it. "[Ice Prison], [Flame Strike]!"

    Many small ice crystals began to materialize to cover the beast, creating an unusual, but not for that reason ugly, snow sculpture.

    Then flames shrouded in a divine aura consumed Verakia''s now motionless body, bringing an end to his woes. They continued to burn for several minutes, until only an annoying burning smell was all that remained.

    "Unbelievable!" Aella had watched that fight-that massacre-without being able to believe what she was seeing. "It wasn''t just you who was monstrous, Lady Zesshi."

    "Well, it looks like we''re done here," Antilene tried to bring the elf, still in disbelief at what had happened, back to reality. " Is everything all right? Can we continue?"

    "Yes, I''m fine," Aella slapped her cheeks, making sure she wasn''t dreaming. "Let''s proceed."

    They resumed their mission. But a sudden gust of wind caught everyone''s attention. A fresh smell of violets rose from the incessant movement of a pair of giant wings.

    "Now what?" Antilene asked aloud, it seemed as if the day would never end.

    "Lady Zesshi!" The half-elf immediately recognized that unwarranted enthusiasm. If only a few weeks earlier someone had told her that a dragon whose scales made the most precious emeralds pale would strain with every most awkward ceremonial gesture possible and imaginable, she would have called him crazy. "I have successfully accomplished my task!"

    "Well done, Ashuak Frahr Ssissth," how she had managed not only to learn but also to pronounce that abstruse name was an inexplicable mystery. "There were no problems, were there?"

    "Absolutely not, my lady," a dragon bowing. What an absurd, but unexpectedly pleasant ego, circumstance. "The lake lord and I are old friends. Convincing him not to attack us was the proverbial child''s play. I still remember when we were just little lizards and the Sinner Remnants attacked the forest. At the time we..."

    "Yes, you''ll tell me another day," Antilene certainly had no precious seconds to waste with a nonsensical story that interested no one. "Now that you are here, let me get on your back."

    "With great pleasure!"

    "Then I''m off," Antilene gave a final salute as she settled on the back of her unusual mount. Having no reins with which to direct him or saddles to mount made her position quite uncomfortable.

    "Leave the rest to us," Time Turbolence brought his hand to his chest in a military salute filled with respect. "We will see to it that no one disturbs your revenge, Lady Zesshi."

    Antilene nodded.

    Reciprocating the trusting look Aella was giving her, heard the last words of the woman.

    "I will head to Logem," an uncertainty leaked from the elf''s gaze. She looked at the half-elf as one looks at a jigsaw puzzle in which the pieces do not fit together perfectly, aware that something was missing to make the picture complete but at the same time unable to end the game. "Look, my real name is- No, never mind. Just think about coming back alive. Good luck!"

    Antilene raised her thumb as a way to say ''trust me''. Ashukar soared high into the sky.

    At the same time

    ''Idiots. All of them are incompetent idiots. Where did everyone disappear to?''

    Decem was in the throne room. The choruses of adoration befitting a personality of his rank were replaced by an eerie silence that would have suited a ghastly graveyard, not the auspiciousness of the ruler of the whole world.

    The Elf King tightly clutched the knobs of his new throne, splendid work that had required the skill of the best master craftsmen in his splendid capital. Carved entirely from the most precious ivory, glittering gems -which burned with an intensity equal to glowing little suns- were set at its ends while depictions of his history had been finely carved into plaques made from the painstaking workmanship of dragon bones, attached to the backrest.

    Normally it would have taken months to erect such a marvel, but thanks to his persuasion -and the devotion his subjects had for him- Decem had been able to admire that splendor in record time.

    And now he was alone.

    With no one to worship him.

    The loneliness of those at the top was a burden one learned to live with but never got used to. If only he had not been surrounded by uncouth villagers who could not even in their most fervent dreams understand what was the price to be paid for his powers, maybe things would have been different.

    ''I have already razed this place, long ago. Maybe it''s time to start again. Yes, a new beginning. When my rightful heir arrives, I will have to show her what is the right method by which we superior beings can deal with maggots.''

    As he planned for the future -what wonders did the world have in store for him? The chosen ones who could count on the planet''s favor were destined to eat daily from nature''s rich banquet, after all, - a shrill voice echoed through the halls of the palace.

    "Your Majesty... Your Majesty," it was the prime minister moving his stubby legs in a grotesque rendition of what should have been a precipitous rush, but just seemed the ungainly movement of a fat pig trying to escape slaughter. "They are here...they are in the palace... We need your help."

    His face was smeared with blood -his own, probably- while his tattered robes barely maintained a modicum of decorum. He was accompanied by a handful of guards, in the same pathetic conditions.

    ''Should I kill them for this disrespect? To show up not only late, but in such an inelegant and slovenly state before their ruler! Fortunate are they, these pale imitations of what should be the chosen race of elves, in having a ruler of my moral caliber.''

    Holding back the urge to execute them on the spot, he opened his hands to invite them to speak. "Let''s hear it. What is this great problem that you inept people are unable to solve yourselves? Heaven forbids that one day you might be able to meet my already low expectations and surprise me with the slightest demonstration of competence."

    Drops of sweat began to mingle with the bloody foreheads of the prime minister and his soldiers. Had it not been for the icy gaze Decem imposed on them, and the chilling prospect of remaining silent before their ruler aroused, they might have found a new profession as statues in the royal garden.

    "Your Majesty ... this is about the rebels. The eastern part of Crescent Lake is in total chaos. Plants rise up in a wail of revolt and disorder. Roads are impassable, residents flee in search of safety," the guards nodded to show that what the minister was saying was not the ramblings of a madman, but the pure, albeit unbelievable, truth. "We don''t know how they did it, but both the merchant and military districts are virtually unreachable."

    "And you dare to waste my time on this nonsense?" Decem stood up, fury impossible to restrain after such an affront, even with all his willpower. "Get out of my sight, before I decide to do to your innards what is happening to my beloved capital, and be sure to solve the problem quickly, if you do not wish to incur my wrath."

    Rebels? Ridiculous! Poor fools who could not accept the truth. Evasha was rightfully his, as was every other known land. They would be crushed as had happened to all their predecessors who foolishly thought they could oust him.

    "Your Majesty, these natural phenomena are not the only problem we are facing," one of the guards took the floor. Reduced to that miserable state, with a broken spear, a broken nose, and an arm dangling like a piece of dead flesh was too pitiable for a compassionate personality like the king to look at. "The western part is in full revolt. The citizens are rising against your majesty''s rule. All crown sympathizers are being captured and interrogated. Only the royal palace still holds, but if left to our own devices, we will soon give way."

    "What did you say?" Decem must have had trouble in his royal ears, for he could have sworn that he had just been told that the very inhabitants of Crescent Lake had raised their arms against him. "I must still be drowsy... Because I''m sure you didn''t tell me that my own subjects, those who are under my direct control, who have benefited for years from my leadership, DARE to rebel."

    In more than four hundred years no one, NO ONE, had ever dared to do so much. His wrath was about to erupt with all its fierceness, like the explosion of an active volcano.

    It was as if someone had taken all the evils of the world, collected them in a cramped urn, and then locked them there for years and years. The moment the urn was opened, they would disperse with all their perversion, happy for finally being set free.

    This is how Decem felt, pressing with all his might not to let the city itself sink into the endless depths of the underworld, as a just punishment for that abomination he was forced to hear.

    "The rioters are spreading the word of a savior," the prime minister had resumed, his head bent so low in fear that it might have popped up on the other side of the planet. "The royal army has been routed. The King Slayer, or the White Fury as they call them, is heading here to start a new era."

    ''Wait a minute, so that''s what this was all about.''

    The Elf King regained his lost calm. Just as the waves of the sea after a storm return to placid quiet, so Decem''s fury-scarred face relaxed into an expression filled with satisfaction, even more ghoulish than the previous one.

    "Ahahahahah, splendid. Splendid," his laughter could be felt under the skin. A devilish sound, a hellish symphony that played its notes to the rhythm of horror. "She came to me. Oh, what joy, what jubilation! You!" For his plans, those three insolent ones would have to suffice for the time being. If they had failed him one last time, however, not even his generosity could have saved them. "Prepare a suitable banquet. And decorate this place with the finest silks and the most precious embellishments. Priceless fragrances should suffuse the air. I want this moment to be forever remembered as one of triumph!"

    "But your majesty, there is no time to prepare all this! The first floor of the palace is already under attack!"

    "You are lucky," such was the contentment that he was willing to overlook that ostentatious display of weakness. "Once I am reunited with my heir, I will get rid of these fools. Better yet, we will get rid of them together. A great way to strengthen the newly rebuilt bond."

    The guards remained silent. Realizing that reason had left -or perhaps had never entered- that room, the prime minister moistened his lips in concern before saying, "We will provide as soon as possible to-"

    Crash

    "What?"

    Decem himself was surprised by that sudden noise. Looking up, a shower of glass shards descended on them like water from a waterfall. The glass window on the ceiling had been broken in contact with what, judging by the superhuman speed with which it descended, was a celestial body.

    The meteor catapulted over the guards, crushing them in place and raising a dust of smoke. Decem''s ears began to rumble from the shock wave that had been produced by the impact.

    As the view became clearer, the Elf King understood the identity of what -or rather, who- had landed in his throne room.

    A paladin in shining armor, so imposing and solemn as to inspire reverence comparable to his own, was pointing a long black staff at the end of which protruded three sharp blades, the central one pointed to his regal persona.

    "Greetings, Father," Formen Gwaew began to blow, summoned by the new era. "Your daughter has finally come back home."

 Chapter 30: Symphony from the New World

    Chapter 30: Symphony from the New World

    Overture

    The Spirit of the World recorded.

    When did their task begin?

    They recalled.

    From the great Music the world began, for It made the song of the Dragons visible, and they saw It as a light in the darkness.

    And many of them fell in love with its beauty and its affair, which they saw beginning to unfold as in a vision.

    The arcane secrets of the new world were guarded by the songs of revelations, which hid the truths of creation behind their lyrics.

    But the roar of the Giant Dragon forsook the old oaths, the groans of the Earth could be heard as far as beyond the Heavens, foretelling the arrival of a new Era.

    Six Gods, they brought hope to a race on the blink of destruction. In search of a sky they could never touch, of a star they could never reach. An immortal guardian as memento of their dreams.

    The choruses of jubilation from the Court of Miracles stopped. Startled, the chanters of old legends discontinued their now unfinished hymns.

    Eight Kings, their reign was the greed that is never full. Ambitions turned into hollow delusions. Desires leading to contentions.

    The melody shattered. A sequence of notes without harmony all that remained of the Ancient Rhythm. Distorted sounds, struggling to leave a trace of their former voices.

    Lost souls, they accepted change or cursed fate. Bent the weak to their wills. Embraced chivalric ideals they long thought forgotten.

    One Prince, he made his choice. A final sacrifice for the only one who could be called friend.

    The Spirit of the World watched, as it always has and always will.

    When the seas will dry up and the lands desolate, they will be here.

    When the stars will cease to shine and the sun to burn, they will be here.

    Their chronicles were a never-ending library, where each volume scattered out in endless directions. Too much to be counted. Words never said, sentences never written. Their treasure is made up of silences and non-sayings.

    They have witnessed life and death, love and hate.

    Why do they keep writing, you may ask?

    Because that is all they know.

    Even if no one will ever read their stories, they are satisfied that way. And if someday a reader comes along, they will find a tale made just for them. Isn''t that enough?

    The Spirit of the World continues undaunted with their mission. They exist only to give a key to those lost in labyrinths with no path to escape.

    The last story is no different from the others. This makes it so special.

    A lonely princess trapped in a tower of memories. The blade has been her tutor and blood her lady-in-waiting. Only when the smile will be sincere, an old debt will be paid.

    An orphan hiding behind his regal titles his loneliness, his regrets. A perversion born of a grudge that never subsided. Horrors of hell mistaken for enchanted gardens.

    Their meeting foretold by prophets, oracles, and soothsayers.

    Both prisoners of a cell without walls.

    When the end is written, where will the gaze of the two be aimed?

    The Spirit of the World observed.

    Act 1: Adagio

    "-your daughter has finally come home."

    Decem heard those last words. The veil of smoke began to thin as the lifeless bodies of his guards swept away by the impact lay graceless on the floor. Such was the joy he felt at finally being reunited with his favorite that there was a willingness to forgive them for their incompetence.

    "At last," his lips joined in a paternal smile. The bonds of family overcame every obstacle, no force in the world was able to separate those who were meant to be together. "Take off that helmet, so that I may set my eyes on my rightful heir."

    The girl remained motionless. The happiness of being reunited with the one person who was worthy of loving her must have taken all her strength away. An emotion the King could understand, though he would never fall prey to such unnecessary sentimentalism.

    But after all, he could not expect everyone to reach his perfection. A father''s most important duty was to love his children unconditionally, despite their flaws.

    Decem noticed that one of his servants had managed to save his life -roaches were hard to exterminate, what a wise truth- and was now crawling like the worm he was toward the exit of the room. "You," what a fool to think he could escape his King''s orders. "Bring the best bottle of wine we have! So that this sacred event can be celebrated as it deserves!"

    His daughter curved her head slightly in the direction of the useless elf who was running around like a desperate dog. Decem was genuinely sorry. That his heir had to sully her eyesight with the blood of such a nobody was not a spectacle befitting a princess of royal blood.

    "So this is kind of the person you are," she murmured. Her head was now out in the open. Eyes that shone like precious gems of different colors looked at him with a fierce ardor that Decem had known far too many times not to recognize what it conveyed in an instant.

    Love.

    "Can I ask you a question?"

    "Certainly," he would have preferred to wait until their banquet had begun before initiating their moving reunion. But if a King cannot condone a lack of etiquette, a father can be much more forgiving. "Surely there must be many questions you have for me. But first, let me ask you something. Is it true that you succeeded in wiping out the troops I had sent against you?"

    "¡­Yes."

    A dry answer, still more than what he could have asked for. Those that had been reported to him weren''t mere rumors, indeed.

    "Tell me your name," she had earned the honor of being recognized by the one who stood above them all. If he had to count everyone who could boast the same privilege, the fingers of one hand would have been more than enough. "Let this be the day of your baptism. A new rebirth, in which you resume your rightful place at my side!"

    "... Zesshi Zetsumei," she replied. Her voice was distant, hollow, with a bitter aftertaste. Perhaps she thought of being unworthy of his lineage?

    "Zesshi Zetsumei," what a bizarre name, pronouncing it was difficult for his tongue. But the humans of the Theocracy certainly did not shine in their artistic sense. Those primitives unfortunately did not boast the aesthetic sensibility of a chosen one like him.

    That his daughter had to live with the squalor of these filthy rats disturbed him deeply. He was a sentimental man, after all.

    "I will have to find a worthy one for you," he tried to comfort her. "It will take some time, but I am sure you will be happy in the end to be able to proclaim the name your beloved parent has personally chosen for you. Rejoice, for today a new you will be born! One deserving of my love!"

    The outside did not reflect the beauty of that moment. Battle cries and metal scourges mixed in a disgraceful tumult. Ruin of that heartfelt reunion.

    "Don''t you think it''s time to put an end to this rebellion?" Zesshi asked, vexed. Like him, she too must have found that annoying noises irritating.

    "Humpf, I have no time to waste on this nonsense, not now that I am finally reunited with you." Zesshi must have been moved by his ardor, for she could not avoid keeping her gaze fixed on him in delight. A natural reaction. "But you said you had a question to ask me. Go ahead!"

    "My mother," his daughter started to peer into every part of him. How did she maintain that emotionless expression? Evidently, she was not only a skilled warrior but also an outstanding actress. Although such talents were certainly not suitable for those who carried royal blood. There was much work to be done in order to make Zesshi suitable for her rank. "What is your memory of her?"

    What an unusual and, frankly, pointless question.

    "What do you expect my memories of her to be? A stone that shines more than other stones still remains lusterless compared to the splendor of a jewel. A lucky one who repaid my kindness with ungratefulness!"

    How strange. Decem noticed that his body had begun to tremble. An all too familiar homicidal instinct had made him momentarily lose control of himself. Suggestion. Or maybe remembering the woman of the Theocracy angered him so much that he affected himself with his fury.

    "Do you even remember her name?" Now that he looked at her better, Decem realized from where that unpleasant feeling was coming. Zesshi. But why direct her wrath at him?

    ''Of course! Remembering the woman who separated us must be painful for her!"

    After realizing that she was so attached to him, he experienced a new sensation, not entirely unpleasant, to be honest. Was that the so-called filial love?

    "I don''t remember," how could it have been otherwise? "But don''t worry. I will see to it that her memory is erased from the whole world!"

    Zesshi started to approach. No, she was already close to him. He had not even noticed the sound of her footsteps.

    Seeing the girl before his eyes, Decem understood that his ambition was about to come true. Reunited together, father and daughter, they would lead the elves into a new golden age.

    The die was cast, the time of his triumph was around the corner.

    But why was she looking at him like that?

    Was she angry that he left her alone for so long? Expecting him to come to her rescue many years before wouldn''t be too irrational.

    He would have to explain that this was all part of his grand plan for greatness. To have deprived her of his love was one small step on the path his genius had laid out for them.

    Still, he couldn''t help but feel a little pity for her. What daughter would have been happy to be separated from her father?

    A ghostly breath caressed his neck. A melodious, womanly voice echoed in his mind. ''The clock strikes midnight. Your time has come!''

    And then¡­

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Unforgivable!

    Was that bumptious cretin her father?

    The image of the bloodthirsty tyrant had now been replaced by a big child living in a fairy tale world.

    There was no cruelty in his words. His was a purity that bordered on insanity. And that was what made him so horrifying!

    The man from whom it had all begun. A pathetic existence that could not realize the result of his actions.

    Antilene wanted to laugh. There was nothing funny about it, but that was the only reaction that came to her at that moment. That utter lack of compassion was completely understandable to him. In fact, commendable.

    "Have you come to hug your father? I am not inclined in wasting time on such futilities," he awkwardly opened his arms, having probably never touched someone with affection. "But today I''m feeling generous, and I might make an exception."

    Unbelievable!

    Now that she looked better at the man, Antilene could not believe her ears. Had she been trapped in a dream? Or was it just reality that was meaningless?

    The monster that lurked in every shadow, every crevice. Behind the walls of her room, under the beds on which she rested. Always there, ready to assault the scared child as soon as she let her guard down. The one who had given meaning to the word fear before even the first words were spoken.

    And now he was so close. What was Antilene feeling?

    Rage, for sure. The contempt Decem had for life was revolting beyond measure.

    Sadness, certainly. For the faults of the parents fell on the children. And the sins she had to bear were too much for everyone.

    Anxiety, so that was what it felt like. There was a first time for everything,

    But there was also a disappointment that could not be held back. The fairy tale ogre of her childhood was just a demented man so careless that he could have had his heart pierced with ease.

    Why not raise her hand to put an end to that now century-old grudge?

    "Why did you do all this?" One last curiosity to satisfy. Once the answer was obtained, would she find the peace so much sought?

    "What do you mean? Their stares met. Was this how her eyes appeared? Her face? Covered with a perverse patina that could not hide an infernal wickedness?

    A mirror that reflected her foibles and vices, accentuating their dimensions and distorting their realities.

    "I want to know why you were willing to¡­ impregnate my mother. Why did you select her for your plans?"

    Decem looked dumbfounded, with the same expression as a cat who cannot understand what his master wants from him.

    "...Why? But it''s simple," he replied, dumbfounded. "It was just an experiment. To see if it was possible to finally give birth to someone who came close to my power. And I must congratulate myself on my brilliance, as the results were excellent."

    "...An experiment. I see."

    It was liberating, in a way. No regrets would be felt for what she was preparing to do.

    "That''s right," her father was convinced that that answer was completely normal. His lack of self-awareness was honestly impressive. The result of his nature or his upbringing? If she had grown up with him, would she, too, have become so detached from reality?

    "Don''t worry. Even if the circumstances of your birth were not ordinary, that does not mean you are not worthy of my affection," the elf king continued to speak, as if he had been enamored with his own voice. "After you find out about your legacy, everything will be clear. Now come with me. We have a lot of time to catch up. I can only guess how many lies those priests told you."

    He turned his back to her. He couldn''t have been that stupid, right?

    "Follow me," he began to move. A trap? Her senses perceived nothing. So easy. It couldn''t be that easy. It wasn''t supposed to be!

    She put her helmet back on. The goal of a lifetime at hand.

    A cloud of dust rose into the air, the muffled sound of the half-elf''s footsteps mingled with the last squeals from outside.

    Charon''s Guidance had already covered the distance between them.

    Decem turned quickly, as if alerted by the voice of the wind itself. His eyes widened in astonishment; his body moved in a superhuman dodge.

    The central blade grazed his nose, causing a barely visible cut to stand out on his until-then-perfect face.

    "Tch," Antilene bit her lips in frustration. But part of her was relieved. If the battle had ended at that very instant, she would not have felt the slightest satisfaction.

    "...You... You," her father stroked the small wound in disbelief. Tiny drops of blood dripped onto the floor, so tiny as to become imperceptible to the human eye once they mixed with the dirt. "How dare you?"

    Nevertheless, Decem was in a fury. If the elf king considered himself the greatest work of art in the world, what Antilene had done could have been comparable to ruining a precious painting with a splash of paint in his mind.

    "Well done, you managed to dodge it." The half-elf was truly amazed that he had shown he could keep up with her speed. Exciting. A good adversary was always difficult to find. For that, Antilene was appreciative. She would finally give it her all in a battle that would resonate in the heroic songs proclaimed by the bards.

    A daughter killing her hated father. A perfect tragedy!

    "But don''t think the next time will be so easy. I will take my time to let you taste all my resentment. I pray that you are prepared, for I have been since the moment I uttered my first wail."

    "Is that a joke? Are you trying to humor me?" Drops of sweat bathed his forehead like dew on fresh grass in the morning.

    "Never have I been more serious in my life."

    Silence.

    And then¡­

    "I don''t understand! I don''t understand!" Decem''s cries of fury showed that he was genuinely surprised. "What have I ever done to you to deserve your hatred? Isn''t it natural for a daughter to love her father? Why? Why? Scum. You are only scum. All of you! If it weren''t for me, if it weren''t for my superior genes, you would just be maggots crawling for some sunshine. I gave you the chance to be the masters of the world, and you rejected it!"

    His expletives were children of resentment born from frustration. The intensity they were reaching made the walls shake as a killer instinct spread like a pestilence through the air.

    But Antilene did not find them frightening. On the contrary, resembling the tantrums of a man-child, they only reinforced the idea she had of her father.

    So pathetic as to be ridiculous. The clown of an empty circus, performing silly shows incapable of eliciting a laugh.

    "Stupid," he did not hear her. Still intent on his act, waiting for the expected applause that would never come from a nonexistent audience. "It''s all so stupid."

    Decem looked at his daughter like a hungry predator looking at its defenseless victim. Veins that were beginning to pop out of the muscles in his face.

    "Ehehehe," a high-pitched laugh, rotten to the core. Sickening. "What am I supposed to do with you? Take it slow? It''s time to let go of manners. Yes... Yes... I will make you suffer what I have suffered multiplied tenfold. Your cries of despair will be my consolation on this inauspicious day!"

    Antilene got into position. Her right leg extended slightly forward, her scythe calculating the distance.

    "Let me tell you the real reason I''m here," she could see his frown twitching. If that being could feel curiosity, it had now been completely replaced by deep anger. "I will take three things from you."

    She raised three fingers, assuming he was unable to count. It wouldn''t be too surprising.

    "The first is your kingdom. Crescent Lake and the Forest of Evasha will be free from your rule starting today."

    Goal almost achieved, judging by the calm that had supplanted the giant mess just now.

    "The second is your pride. When I am done with you, your own shadow will be a source of irrational fear."

    A sharp smile. If anything could have been called ''evil'' in this godforsaken world, it would have been that. Was her face also painted with her father''s perversion?

    "The last ... is your life!"

    And only then would she be free.

    "Do you not understand what you have set yourself against? The power to change the wheel of reality is only of the elected. I find your lack of understanding irritating. Apparently, you have taken more from your mother than from me. What a pity..." He seemed truly sorry. Sorrow not befitting that superb personality. However, hearing him mention Faine inflamed Antilene''s soul.

    "But this, too, is fate. I understand now. A curse. My blessings have been counterbalanced by the inability to have children who can make me proud. My loneliness will never end..."

    And so it would be for her, as well. Antilene thought back to her home, her whole story locked up in a city insignificant when compared to the outside world.

    Happiness that would lose its value tomorrow, while yesterday''s suffering was forgotten.

    An existence like a comet. People watching her from below, following the journey into the starry sky in awe. Her trail remained in their lives, only to fade slowly to the point where they did not notice that it had disappeared. Then they carried on with their lives.

    Antilene watched the sky, from the hole she had made in the ceiling.

    The last wish had been made.

    Now she could only hope that everything went according to plan.

    "Revenge is the only way to settle the score with my fate. Today each of us will be just nothing. King, elf, human, or murderer. None of these empty titles matter anymore. Just two living beings trying to find meaning in their miserable lives. In the end, only one of us will find what he was looking for."

    "Ridiculous! Do you think you can beat me? Do you actually think you are capable of comparing yourself to the sun that lights this planet?"

    "Even the sun can be eclipsed."

    "Mph," Decem continued to stand still. But a small tornado blew around him, while minerals and dust took a grotesque form. The guardian of the earth, the protector of nature had rushed to his master''s aid. "Observe! One last gift before your death. This is Behemoth!"

    The tiger was lured down the mountain.

    Antilene was ready.

    Act 2: O Fortuna

    Sweet terror.

    He could not see his daughter''s face, but Decem had not the slightest doubt that this was the emotion that now pervaded that foolish girl.

    How had she dared?

    His affection had been rejected and trampled upon as if it were equal to the feelings of any dirty inferior being.

    Pearls to swine.

    Why did it always end like this?

    Everyone around him had the rare opportunity to grow in the most fertile soil of all. Yet they preferred brambles and stones to his care.

    Some form of masochism he could not understand? A genetic error that led to giving up reason for insanity.

    Perhaps the mistake had been to think that their logical processes, though obviously not comparable to his, were at least somewhat similar.

    Nothing mattered anymore.

    Finished with that insolent girl, he would start over. The Elf King had always thought that elves were the chosen race. But clearly, that was not the case. And humans also showed no better result.

    Then he would try with every other humanoid race until he could fulfill his vision.

    "I will not finish this quickly. I will take my sweet time with you!"

    Zesshi had turned away with a couple of backflips. If she thought this was enough to escape Behemoth''s blows a harsh surprise was the only thing in store. Better that way. Seeing her clinging to a faint hope that would be methodically faded filled his heart with satisfaction.

    Decem would make her pay dearly for betraying him. The anger he manifested on the outside had faded, but that was only because his entire being was seething with an unhealthy desire for revenge.

    The King should have been above such foolishness more suitable for mortals, but this time he would gladly make an exception.

    ''What is she doing?''

    His daughter had pointed that stupid stick at him, but nothing seemed to have changed.

    No.

    Something was different.

    A figure wrapped in a cloak as black as peace. Skeletal fingers moved methodically, drawing a seal in the sky. Arcane symbols written in an unknown language; the meaning couldn''t be grasped.

    ''Those are the same symbols my father used to write.''

    Decem recognized them from his past memories, but couldn''t grasp any meaning of it.

    "[Denounce Heretics]!"

    Where did that judicious voice come from? An infamous trick of the mind?

    He was now near the cloaked man. Or was the hooded figure standing near him? An illusion? But it didn''t look like that. Behemoth was still there, waiting for orders.

    Decem waited. He could not make out the stranger''s face. Tears broke out in cold sweat. The Elf King took a better look at him. Fiery burning eyes looked back, charged with devilry.

    "[Sentence Heretics]!"

    The skeletal hand approached his heart. The chilling touch caused a shiver of coldness. Now the facial features were visible. A sight so gruesome that the only natural reaction Decem could make was to attempt to scream in horror.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    "You have been judged!"

    But no sound came from his mouth. His moans remained unheard in the vast void.

    Sounds more akin to gnashing of teeth, aggrandizing words whose sound could be recognized but whose significance eluded conventional reasoning. Someone had broken a seal that bound an indescribable horror -too dreadful in its sheer ineffability- to hurl it at him.

    He returned to normal. Nothing had changed. Just a silly trick.

    ''Laughable. It achieved nothing but wasting time.''

    Sensing that she had failed in his purpose, the Elf King -still shaken by the experience- gave his beloved creature the order to attack.

    Behemoth began his run, the ground trembling under the weight of his footsteps. His fist grazed Zesshi, who barely seemed to be able to keep up with the speed of his summoning.

    Nothing strange about that. Challenging Decem was madness itself, so it was only predictable that the only strategy remaining was to escape like a frightened little lamb. The time of the hunt was officially begun.

    Zesshi began to run into the throne room, Decem''s gaze always fixed on her. She was so slow as to be pitiful. There was not going to be much fun that day.

    "Are you afraid now? Why don''t you show me the great skills that cleared an army? Or maybe they were just hoaxes of your own? Well, at least I found out that since the beginning you were not worthy to sit by my side."

    From his daughter''s weapon began to be emitted a violet miasma, the stench of it an affront to the nostrils of a divine ruler.

    Five skeletal warriors armed with shields and spears made an oval formation around his opponent. Gears of a perfect machine, admirable in their sheer lameness. The raised defenses they had mounted were about to collapse like a shaky house of cards before Behemoth''s immense might.

    "Do you use the bloody undead? Don''t you find that disgusting?"

    Zesshi continued not to answer his questions. Seemingly, she was so paralyzed by fear that there was no way for her to be able to make meaningful sentences.

    At that point, mercy was long over. Nothing would stop Decem from receiving satisfaction except defeating that bastard girl. Another failed experiment. And now it was his job to dispose of it.

    No one could escape fate.

    As was to be expected, his summoning easily overcame those fragile walls of bone. There was not even an impact. The remains did not have the dignity to make an imperceptible noise as they collapsed to the ground gracefully.

    Behemoth closed his fists in a hammer of rock and iron. The violent mauling was halfway through when Zesshi had slid down between the space of its legs.

    Small as she was, the narrow cove the monster had between its legs, given the spread-eagled position, proved perfect for escaping the impact.

    Finding herself behind her enemy, his daughter twirled the blades of her weapon to try to penetrate Behemoth''s defense.

    To no avail.

    If an ant tried to bite a lion would the latter feel pain? It is not that it would not suffer any damage, but it would be so insignificant that it could be ignored without fail.

    Seeing that her blows were having no effect, Zesshi tilted her back so that she could turn her attention toward him.

    ''What are you going to do?''

    Decem''s question did not remain unanswered for long. That strange scythe she wielded was thrown toward him like an enormous boomerang.

    The three blades began to spin on themselves, a devilish wheel cleaved the air and approached the elf ruler. The latter ducked with a lightning-fast movement, his legs folding as if bereft of bones.

    Not before Decem had issued a new order to Behemoth.

    ''Kill!''

    His mental command had been given. The creature struck Zesshi, who parried by raising her elbows to shoulder height, the forearms protecting her face. However, the difference in physical strength was overwhelming, and the girl found herself thrown in midair.

    The damage, nevertheless, had not been considerable, as he saw her body twirl like a spring and land a few feet from him.

    ''Behemoth, don''t let her catch her breath!''

    It was galling that he had not yet managed to finish her off. Unlike primitive fools, a dignified ruler feels no joy in barbaric combat. The only entertainment is found in crushing the bugs that venture to stand in his path.

    "Why don''t you let me hear your screams of terror? Grant me this satisfaction as a parting gift. My little one..." A spearhead grazed his abdomen. Like a mosquito bite on the chest. "What?"

    Surprise.

    Behind him five more of those dirty undead. They had raised their spears against the royal majesty in unison and were preparing to strike him in full force. The attacks were pretty straightforward: a quick shuffling approached and then snapping cuts in the direction of the King''s ribcage.

    ''How many of these can you invoke? Are you some kind of necromancer? That would explain how a whole army was wiped out. A miasma still comes out of that strange staff... I see. What a petty trick.''

    Decem did not even bother to avoid their blows. The steel of the spears snapped off just as it came into contact with his muscles harder than any kind of metal.

    Although he found it repugnant to have to raise his hands, the Elf King vented his fury at that affront on the skeletal warriors. His fists crumbled the calcium of their defenseless bodies, reducing them to inconsequential powder.

    Once finished with that foolish distraction he returned his attention to his invocation. But where had his daughter gone?

    ''No...''

    Right on his creature''s head, the cursed one had landed. Behemoth had not escaped his orders. The hands had been raised...

    ''Stop...''

    And the command had been given, but far too late. The monster had aimed its own body as the target of its attack, and by the time the fingers enclosed in lethal knuckles reached their destination of Zesshi, there was nothing left but a mirage.

    The first noteworthy blow Behemoth had delivered was against itself. However, that was far from serious damage.

    Taking advantage of that distraction, Zesshi had regained control of her weapon and was now only a few inches away from him.

    Without moving a single muscle.

    ''Was she so rapid?'' Decem thought, impressed by the shown feat.

    Although he could not ascertain the look on her face, the girl''s body was turned in a mocking posture, defenses completely lowered to invite him to take the first step.

    When it left the pond and observed the vastness of the sea, the frog would realize the insignificance of its home. A lesson that would be taught in blood.

    Decem charged his attack, a punch that had made a mockery with its simplicity of abstruse movements that only the weak make in an attempt to emulate absolute force.

    He struck her face, not even that precious helmet could protect against the magnificence of his blow.

    No reaction. Just an affirmation.

    "Compared to Mother''s, your fists lack fierceness."

    Was he the frog?

    No, just lies devoid of concreteness, of that the Elf King was sure. The absolute truth that was his strength could not be denied by anyone.

    "Now, it''s my turn!" And never had words sounded so daunting.

    The scythe made a half-moon swing, friction from the ground was stolen while air resistance was ignored.

    Zesshi made the impossible, possible. She breached that wall that Decem believed to be an insurmountable barrier.

    His was a perfect body that had never known pain. The concept of physical discomfort completely foreign, a legend that was never known, therefore unreal.

    The blade approached his chest and dread gripped his heart. An unfamiliar feeling crept into his mind. What would he have discovered if that blow had landed?

    Once again Behemoth would not make it in time. For how long had Decem relied on the titan? Now it seemed that what he had always thought infallible was showing itself for what it really was.

    Fallible.

    "[Mercy of Shorea Robusta]!"

    Tenth Tier. The dominion of those who have bent the forces that govern the phenomena of this world to their will.

    The avatar of all creation, a mountain that knew no torment of mediocrity. It would stand imposing until the end of the ages.

    He would never die. The Decem Hougan was invincible. The principles of nature were an open book for him!

    The tip of the blade penetrated far into the depths of his being. What he had always considered reality was being engulfed by the insensitive verities of facts. His internal organs greeted their new companion writhing in misery.

    A cry of distress sent the King''s certainties reeling.

    Behemoth had arrived. Why took him so long?

    His daughter was struck in the side and swung like a bullet against the wall. The scythe left his guts, at such swift speed that Decem for a brief instant was seized with the belief that it will rip half of his soul away.

    There was something odd about his body, but he could not figure out what it was. He had to stop the pain as soon as possible, or he would begin to go insane.

    The healing light of his magic enveloped him like the warm embrace of a caring mother. He could not remember the last time he had had to invoke the help of Druidic incantations in order to bring himself relief, yet he sensed that there was something different than usual. More¡­ demanding.

    It didn''t matter. His priority was to determine whether his daughter still breathed. She stood still in the spot where Behemoth had thrown her.

    "Ahahahahahahahahah!"

    A laugh that sounded like the unbearable squeal of a hungry hyena preening its catch. Zesshi got up again, and copious blood flowed from her visor.

    "Were you hit so hard that the little sanity you preserved was lost?" He asked, failing to understand the hilarity of the situation. "But your madness was, from the beginning, to defy me. Behemoth at least will soon put you out of your misery."

    Decem no longer cared about prolonging the fight. That unpleasant feeling would not leave him, but would remain at his side like a jealous lover until the moment when he would ascertain without any doubt the death of his daughter.

    "I was just reflecting about something," she said, wiping her blood away and taking a scroll that was consumed after the use. "It''s ironic that the only ones who managed to make me bleed were my parents, don''t you think?"

    "It''s the parents'' responsibility to discipline their children," a duty, the Elf King had to admit, remained unaccomplished. "Unfortunately, there will be no tomorrow for you to treasure these lessons."

    He did not wait for a response, preferring to order his titan to extend its hands to whip Zesshi.

    The girl caught a whiff of that new mode, and although she managed to avoid being hit outright, she still could not help but be struck in the left flank.

    Decem savored that newly inflicted wound like the best of wines, but licked his lips only partially satisfied.

    "[Transmutate plants to soil]!"

    The plant-covered floor began to mutate. And Behemoth with it. His creature was now even bigger and stronger, and soon he would demonstrate all his power and why he was deemed invincible.

    "King is he who is always one step ahead of everyone!"

    And Decem was the King who had outstripped every other ruler.

    Only he was at the top.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The most worrisome problem in a battle was retaliation with added complications.

    And complications continued to build up, one after another.

    Why did she keep running?

    Antilene followed an answer that could not be given.

    Chasing a goal that was just that close, yet appeared so distant.

    Behemoth, that was the name.

    The titan of the earth, standing like The Great Wall between her and her father. Until it was there, no chance would present itself to grant her a way to follow.

    Once again, the elemental''s arms extended like iron whips. But they did not head to her exact location. Instead, above, to the roof.

    A landslide of rocks and earth fell upon her. The corollary of the ceiling fell like an unstoppable avalanche. No way out except being swept away.

    ''[Three steps in Lightness - Decrescendo]!''

    ''The World is Music.

    Chaos first¡­ then order.''

    Martial Arts. The magic of warriors.

    What was magic, in reality?

    Will that dominated matter. Miracles that changed the course of history. A possible answer to the questions of life.

    Antilene listened. Not just with her ears, with her whole body. The path the World was looking forward to was showing before her eyes. Therefore, the road extended far and was endlessly long.

    The flapping of birds'' wings, the flowing of water, the dripping sweat, the body moving imperceptibly. She was at one with the enigmas of nature''s unfolding beats.

    She tuned into that rhythm, the warrior''s spirit chanting an unfinished war song.

    Massive debris coming down like raindrops, the sound of their descent a slow note of passion. Each sound was clear in her mind, heralding the right moment when she should perform.

    She strained her hearing. The first motion was to move her body to the left, the feet moved with slight boldness, firm and steady to the ground.

    Then she turned to the right, toes rising as her torso and legs began their pirouette.

    Her scythe crumbled with a precise sweeping motion two rocks that were about to come crashing down on her.

    Reaching the center, Antilene jumped with all her strength. Heading: the sky. But Behemoth was above her, straight into the below.

    Charon''s Guidance had failed once; it would fail again.

    Was that the end of her journey?

    No!

    ''I have not yet climbed to the summit. The vast heavens stretch out before my eyes.''

    The World beat to a rhythm that few could hear. Made of silences that hid endless words, only those who would be willing to listen would have been able to truly understand them.

    Would she?

    Antilene stopped her ascent.

    The titan''s massive form and hers began to collide, drawn together by the unstoppable force that is gravity.

    ''[Earth Channeling - Crescendo], [Water Vestment - Crescendo]!''

    ''The World is Music.

    What do I hear?''

    The beats of her heart gave birth to a new melody. An ancient chant that sounded like a prayer. Ancestral odes that sought to reach a new Paradise.

    Muscles hardening like adamantium. The notes of the world had arranged themselves into a new composition. The body clad in a magical veil that increased its fortitude.

    Two roads opened before her.

    Abandoning all hope and slumping toward a peaceful otherworld. Was that the right path?

    Wrong! She would not let the word end be placed at that point in her story.

    There remained, therefore, only one more road to take.

    She waited until Behemoth was within a few inches of her and, when the moment was propitious, raised her hands to stop its fall.

    They landed together, with her still holding the creature suspended in the air. The weight of the vault of heaven on the shoulders. Adrenaline increased her pulse rate. The girl''s arms were bursting from the superhuman effort, but it did not matter.

    "Crush her, Behemoth!"

    Antilene heard her father rail against her. She ignored him.

    Instead, summoned more Spartiate to aid her thanks to Charon''s Guidance put on her back. When she was sure they had also placed their skeletal hands to help her with that thankless task, she broke away from that trial.

    The titan crushed them in blink, enough time to let her come within range of her father again.

    And what did the Great Decem Hougan do when he saw his daughter approaching with ruthless murderous intent?

    "You must not let her approach; do you understand me, Behemoth?"

    The sun that shines brighter than any other star in the sky began to run like a madman as he shouted at the top of his lungs to his summons to pursue her.

    But there would be a time when even a star would meet the ending of its long life and stop glowing.

    The grip on her scythe had never been so firm. Ripping through the invisible wall that separated them, Antilene drew an arc in the air that grazed her father''s right leg.

    It was enough.

    The noise caused by Decem''s downfall reaffirmed her conviction. A second blow would follow the first, and then one more.

    "A few more millimeters and this fight is over!" She shouted, foretasting victory.

    "Wrong! This is checkmate!"

    The girl felt the terrain beneath her beginning to shift. Her balance was struggling to maintain itself. An ominous roar foretold the disaster that was coming.

    Behemoth opened the gates of the underground. Mixed with the soil itself, it had overcome the long distance in a heartbeat and then taken solid form once again.

    Antilene could not dodge it this time.

    A mauling of diamonds swept over her like a running horse. Her rib cage experienced a new sensation of soreness that she had never before felt, as if someone had taken the weight of a building and compressed it to the limit, then released it entirely on her.

    ''[Heavy Recover]!''

    But the half-elf held her position. Behemoth once again was one step away from her.

    Antilene was not scared. The amount of pain she felt was nowhere near what had been inflicted during training with her mother. Unexpectedly, she now found herself grateful for that ordeal.

    "Do you think you can hold out much longer?" Her father''s voice was uncertain. She could sense how doubt about his invincibility was beginning to make its way into the back of his mind.

    Antilene spat blood.

    "Do you think... I am going to falter? From something like this!?"

    "Stop with your arrogance!" Pride began to crack. "I will grant you absolute death so that your memory will fade away. Then, after I am done with you, I will give your beloved Theocracy what it deserves. Not a single trace of that stupid country and those insignificant gods will remain!"

    Antilene remained calm as the morning sea. His threats were devoid of substance.

    "The Gods are already dead. Nevertheless, even though the Gods are dead, my humanity remains," or, at least, part of it. "But, to fulfill the desire to avenge my mother, I have embraced the path of slaughter."

    Decem did not even listen to her words; his creature was a more attentive listener than he.

    Antilene''s vision darkened. The titan''s mighty fist came closer.

    ''[Wind Spirit - Crescendo]!''

    ''The World is Music.

    The tune I sing is made of hopes and regrets.''

    A new breeze blew in from the horizon.

    The child cried, the teenager got up, and the adult walked. The journey had not come to an end; the destination was only a new beginning.

    One is brought into this world with a cry, a sharp noise, and leaves it with a soft sigh.

    Though called by another name, the title it was given did not change the fact that Behemoth was still an earth elemental. With its strengths. And its weakness.

    Charon''s guidance was unleashed with lightning speed.

    Antilene sliced the air itself.

    The symmetry of matter was challenged by that fearless cutting. The ligaments of the reality factory were split into two perfect equals, as the half-elf''s vision split into a mirror of colors.

    The movement information could not be registered in time by the air, which folded in on itself. An abrupt, almost discontinuous, change in temperature and pressure propagated faster than the speed of sound. A linear wave collided with the rock punch, resulting in a destructive interference process.

    The energy of the backlash deflected the titan''s trajectory, knees trembling as it struggled to stay straight. Antilene planted her legs like roots in the ground, protecting herself with raised arms in a guard position.

    Although Behemoth could not articulate emotions, Decem provided instead.

    His eyes squinted in astonishment. His jaw gaped in disbelief. If eyes could have killed, his irises would have murdered a god.

    The elemental tried a new assault. Antilene repeated the melody.

    The concert continued.

    The notes were intoned in a solfeggio whose rhythms were punctuated by the transition of Charon''s Guidance.

    Decem ended the performance, withdrawing his invocation back to his position and chanting a new incantation.

    "[Reverse Gravity]!"

    The elf king cast his spell. The half-elf found herself crushed downward as all the furnishings in the room crashed down upon her. The world shifted, but Antilene remained unmoving.

    "I will make you regret what you have done!"

    In a few minutes, her father had accumulated the stress of years. The perfect, worry-free face pulsed and twisted in caricature gestures. A wicked gaze looked down on her.

    ''[Fire Invoicing - Decrescendo]!''

    ''The World is Music.

    Young and elegant is the tree, brilliant is the blossom.''

    Her body fell prey to a strange warmth. The zenith of a blazing fire.

    To live was to consume oneself. The more ephemeral the sparkle, the greater its beauty. Could the outbursts of her great power resonate forever?

    There was a reason why Death was called Silent. Mute. When it welcomed its new visitors in its reign, they could hear only the noise of its footsteps.

    But her world now was full of sounds.

    The miracle of magic could make her reach new peaks.

    Gravity no longer held her close. Instead, a newfound force brought her closer to her target.

    Leaping, Antilene closed the distance once again from her father, who did not waste even time to be surprised. It was a luxury he could not afford.

    She watched his every most imperceptible reaction, from his twitching nose, to his eyelids closing and reclosing, down his lips changing from a ruthless smile to a dissatisfied squeal.

    "Why don''t you die?" He spat with hatred.

    "It''s not my time yet!" She replied with faith.

    Behemoth stood between them.

    Antilene performed her wizardry. A roar shattered the silence. The titan was thrust backward by the aftershock of the sonic boom, unable to resist as the half-elf lowered her judgment.

    The hour had come.

    Destiny was waiting for her.

    The king''s right arm rose to ninety degrees.

    "[Green Chains]!"

    Antilene''s torso was immobilized by long emerald chains spreading from her father''s fingers.

    Unable to move once more, Antilene understood. A vision of a proud woman, shackled by the same chains that now imprisoned her.

    The same smile looking back at her with sick longing.

    "This will end it all," history repeated once more. The actors changed, but the events remained the same. "I emerge victorious! You shall burn in the flames of my fury. [Fire Storm]!"

    The judgment had become final. The penalty for the crimes committed had been handed down. The reaper had come to claim their new victim.

    Nothing happened.

    Opportunities present themselves indeed!

    Decem looked at Antilene, in disbelief.

    "What have you done to me?" A realization that made his back twitch. "I had noticed that something was wrong, but why didn''t it work? Why did my spell fail?"

    "King is the one who is always one step ahead of everyone," she mocked him, using his own words. "But unfortunately for you...I have always been two steps ahead of you from the very start!"

    "Behemoth, reduce her to a pulp!"

    But the Earth Titan was now disappearing. The limit reached.

    "Never mind... It doesn''t matter," Like anyone standing on the abyss of despair, Decem believed he was still in firm control. "I still win! Now that you are immobile, I have all the time in the world to be able to finish you off!"

    The grip of the chains became tighter.

    Antilene did not waver.

    The shooting star had reached the end of its voyage into the starry night.

    The wish had been granted.

    "Ahhhhhhhh," her father''s screams of pain rang like new music in her ears. The hands that held the chains separated from his body and slid to the sides of the floor. "What''s going on?"

    Still shrieking in pain, Decem gathered the last remaining flashes of sanity to try to understand what was happening to him.

    "Why are there two of you?" He realized, watching the newcomer.

    Once upon a time, there was a lonely little girl locked in a large tower. The outside world only a pipe dream.

    No longer able to support the solitude, the little girl longed for friends.

    She then asked the Gods, the only ones she could talk to, for help.

    The Wind God heard her prayers, and granted the little girl an inseparable companion on whom she could forever rely.

    And now the same friend had descended like stardust on the field.

    A perfectly white replica of Antilene looked at the Elf King with complete indifference. The red of the blood of the severed hands on her scythe was the only color that broke that perfectly pure hue.

    "Could you have summoned a construct like this, too? Who are you? There should be no such thing as strong beings like you! You are a monstrosity!"

    Antilene had regained her freedom, and together with Einherjar had surrounded Decem.

    The last salute.

    "If you had checked above, you might have noticed her presence. She has been with us from the beginning, waiting for my order," Decem looked at her with disgust, as one looked at a bug to be squashed. Yet there was another emotion seeping out of his rising insanity.

    Fear.

    "You rose above everyone, but your gaze has remained fixed downward all these years. I too... I, too, was like you. I let the past be the light that illuminated my path. But not today. Today my eyes are turned heavenward! Tomorrow is now!"

    Her father let out his final roar of pride. A trapped old lion that had lost its claws and fangs.

    "You cannot overcome destiny! I was chosen by fate to be its champion!"

    "Don''t you understand? You have already been defeated by fate!"

    At the end of it all, what was the last move of Decem Hougan, the great ruler of the Elves?

    He attempted to run away once more, like the coward he was.

    "You are already¡­ in my attack range. This feud ends now! [Shadows Ballet - Fortissimo]!"

    ''The World is Music.''

    First step.

    Hot winds swirled about Antilene, and a faint aroma of brimstone swept over the area. A flickering yellow aura surrounded the half-elf, growing in intensity, shedding tremendous heat and light. Decem stumbled back from the high temperatures.

    With a howling roar, she unleashed a hellish blast of fire that could melt steel and warp stone. Her father''s chest was sliced neatly.

    Second Step. Third Step.

    Charon''s Guidance crackled with energy. As Antilene struck her foe, that energy detonated in a burst that scythed through the main object of her revenge. The elf''s right side experienced a new sensation of never-before-experienced pain.

    Einherjar attacked Decem with an overwhelming penetration, hammering through his armor to cleave into the bare flesh. The cut was so precise that not an ounce of blood was spilled.

    This display of raw power caused the Elf King to stumble backward in pain, terror in his eyes.

    Fourth Step. Fifth Step. Sixth Step.

    Antilene hacked into Decem''s legs, forcing his movements to slow further and his resolution to falter once again.

    In a flashing blur of steel, Einherjar unleashed a devastating volley of deadly attacks against her enemy, striking it again and again until he could barely stand up.

    Antilene spotted the perfect target in Decem''s frail defenses at the height of his neck. With a single attack, she put all the force of her supreme focus into a single, crippling blow.

    For a second, Decem was dead.

    But then, he started to move again.

    The most wonderful blessing turned into the most terrifying curse.

    Seventh Step.

    Einherjar approached forward like a slithering snake, extending herself almost beyond her ability to maintain balance. Decem, still dazed by the resurrection, stumbled backward, surprised that she could reach him in such a short time.

    A giant roundhouse kick made him recoil.

    Eight Step.

    Antilene delivered a devastating final strike against the wounded king, aiming to finish him off once and for all. Her senses sharpened; her vision shattered into fragments of infinite crystals. The pieces of the kaleidoscope put themselves back together as she exceeded the very concept of acceleration, arriving in a place outside time itself.

    Here, she hit.

    Decem was thrown out one of the windows of the throne room by sheer power alone. The glass broke down into endless fragments, shining like a rainbow.

    "I won!" Antilene said.

    Act 3: Requiem

    "Rufus, you really like to play, don''t you?"

    "Yes. It''s probably the closest thing I have to a leisure activity."

    "And you always use the same violin, don''t you?"

    "Yes. I''ve never changed it in all these years."

    "Is that violin so important to you?"

    "Very. It is the last gift my master gave me."

    "It must be very valuable."

    "You are correct. But not because it has any monetary value. Even if it were the most mundane instrument of all, it would remain invaluable to me. Simply, every time I play it, it is as if the great Surshana is here with me once again. And the silence of solitude is replaced by a much warmer melody."

    "Do you think one day I could play it as well as you play it?"

    "I doubt it. It would require specific levels and classes to master it... But don''t look so downcast. You''ll always be able to hear me."

    "Forever?"

    "Forever."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Alive. He was still alive. Decem felt that last spark of life force flowing through him and clung to it with all his remaining strength. That last drop was an invaluable fountain to drink from so that he could stand on his feet one last time.

    He stood up again. The body had never been so heavy. He could almost catch a glimpse of skin with all that blood. The Elf King dared not touch his face, for fear of finding out what state he was in.

    Only one thing mattered at the moment. Survival.

    He would survive. He would regain his strength and come back again.

    He realized his mistake. Humans. They were the key.

    For some strange reason, they were the most compatible with his genes, and Zesshi had fully proved it to him.

    Where was he at the moment? He had certainly ended up outside the palace.

    ''I have no time to waste.''

    Fortunately, thanks to the resurrection effect he had regained his hands.

    Decem pulled out some pieces of glass that had lodged in his flesh, some had gone in too deep to be extracted, and began to run.

    ''It doesn''t make sense. How could a daughter surpass her own father?''

    No satisfactory answer could be found. Try as he might, experience had taught him that it was impossible for a child to exceed the talents of his parents.

    That rule, after all, also applied to him.

    ''Evidently, I was wrong.''

    Hard to overturn beliefs that have guided your life for decades. But the moment the evidence was too much to deny, there was no choice left. His battered state left no room for further doubt.

    How long had he been walking?

    Could a whole eternity be calculated?

    And where was his daughter?

    Wasn''t she chasing him?

    Too many questions, and the replies lost in the silence of the place.

    He attempted to move once more, but tumbled to the ground in pain. The wounds still open on contact with the hard rocks began to burn with such intensity that Decem felt like passing out.

    Under normal conditions, the Elf King would have used magic to heal himself, but he did not even have enough mana to cast a mere level-one spell.

    What a pathetic sight.

    What would his father have thought if he had seen him in that condition?

    Decem dared not give himself an answer.

    He kept running -if that was what one could call his fatigued walk- hoping he would be able to find shelter.

    Dusk fell.

    He arrived at a small space a few kilometers away from the palace. Having knowledge of the surroundings was an asset in that cat-and-mouse game.

    ''Surely Zesshi is on my trail. But if I can get to the heart of the forest, then finding me will be virtually impossible.''

    Convinced he could still make it, he headed for a small natural entrance to the wilderness.

    His run was barred by a familiar sight.

    Just as he was beginning to believe he could make it to safety, Decem noticed that figure in white that only minutes earlier had brought him to defeat.

    ''That sort of construct again.''

    That summoning continued to look at him with apathy. It was like a doll without strings, just waiting for him to make his first move.

    But the king was aware that as soon as he hinted at the slightest movement, it would be over for him.

    What was that feeling?

    Terror?

    But the Ruler of the World feared nothing. Such emotion is only of the ignorant fools, who do not know what mechanisms make the world go round.

    Why was he trembling then?

    Why wasn''t that sort of golem attacking him?

    Waiting for something to move that stalemate was driving him out of his mind.

    It was not only the fact that he could die at any moment that caused him stress, but it was that absurd expectation that at any given moment something unexpected would happen.

    ''My vision blurs, I feel my body begging me to give in.''

    If he had remained in that position, he would have simply bled to death.

    Ahead, hell.

    He turned back. Strangely, that weird doll was not chasing him. In fact, every time he took a step, she took one in turn.

    She was taunting him.

    The golem was telling him that at any moment she could kill him on the spot.

    Surrendering might not have been so bad. At least it would all be over in that instant.

    But Decem was not the type to give up. The enchanted garden was waiting for him. His father was there, he could see it. A few more minutes and he would be able to embrace him again.

    They would be reunited, one last time. Along with him, Zesshi was also nothing.

    ''Where do you think you''re running to? Don''t you realize you are left alone? As you always have been¡­ and always will be!''

    Again, that female voice he had heard at the beginning of the meeting with his daughter. Charged with a hatred that seemed to know no peace. He had already heard it once in his life. But he could not remember where.

    Decem was not alone. His father was in his heart. Always. Until the end of time. It was a promise.

    And fathers never break promises, do they?

    A feeling of dizziness. The Elf King felt his life hanging by a very thin thread set at the end of two large oak trees. An earthquake made that already precarious balance teeter.

    Fortunately, the alternative road he had devised was not far away. Gritting his teeth to try to forget that searing pain, he kept walking a few more meters until he reached his destination.

    ''Are you kidding me?''

    Zesshi was in front of him. The light of the full moon made the golden filaments of her armor glow with blinding radiance. Was she an angel who came to transport him to the afterlife?

    Maybe, it wouldn''t have been so bad.

    He changed direction again; with energies the Elf King did not know where they came from.

    Zesshi was also repeating the deeds of that golem. Decem took a couple of steps, and she in turn took as many. Always taking care that their distance remained the same.

    They continued like this for no one knows how long.

    Decem would take a path, and there would be the summoning of his daughter waiting for him.

    If he went to the right, Zesshi was there. If he went left, Zesshi was there. Every direction was blocked. Every path inaccessible.

    It was just a childish game.

    ''Now do you understand? There is no escape!''

    "Be quiet!"

    Just baseless suggestions. He would not let fatigue cloud his ability to reason. Even if he was incredibly tired¡­

    But it was true that there seemed to be no more hope.

    His daughter continued to watch him from a distance as the road grew darker and darker.

    Was there really no way to survive?

    Was that the end of Decem Hougan?

    Dead like any useless parasite, in a hole forgotten by all? Was there no other way to change his fate?

    More than for himself, the Elf King felt regret that he had failed to achieve his goal. The world would never know the greatness of elves. His father would forever be remembered as a monster.

    This was not what he wanted! Not what he wanted at all!

    Everyone should have known the magnificence of his radiant father!

    An idea came to his mind.

    A light out of the tunnel.

    There was still a place where he could take refuge. All his children had gathered in a manse not far from the royal palace.

    A perfect decoy.

    It was the children''s job to immolate themselves for their parents.

    To give them a chance to make themselves useful, there was no greater bliss!

    He found everyone there in position waiting for him. Ruri was there. And all her siblings were also with her. At least fifty of them. They would have gained a few precious seconds.

    Zesshi continued to be behind him. Like a shadow that never leaves.

    ''One minute! One minute is all I need to regain my strength!''

    Had Decem been clearer, he would have noticed that there was not even a drop of blood left in his veins. The Elf King could no longer remain standing, exhaustion had taken over.

    As he felt his strength abandon him, he noticed that leading his children was a strange elf. A long scar furrowed his face, while a scarlet eye looked at him intently.

    "Protect your king," with the last remaining edge of his voice, he issued his final order. "The enemy is near."

    "It shall be done, your majesty," replied the scarred elf.

    Perfect.

    He could have closed his eyes and rested. Just a few seconds, to regain his strength. Yeah, just a few seconds.

    Just a moment...

    Why had his children gathered around him?

    They were looking at him with twisted expressions on their faces.

    "Have you heard the order of your ruler? Kill the enemy!"

    No. That was not what was said, but he could not even correct him anymore.

    Decem felt pressure on his shoulder. One of the children had pressed his foot against one of the still-open wounds.

    He felt nothing.

    Another kicked him in the stomach. A second punched him in the sternum. Then they scratched his legs.

    Hair was pulled out, skin flayed.

    Mud and dung were thrown on his body.

    They battered his whole body, now unrecognizable, buried under that layer of dirt and blood.

    ''What are you doing? It''s not me you have to fight. But it is her... the cursed one! You must kill her!"

    Zesshi was now only a few inches away from him.

    Why was all this happening? Why were his children not helping him?

    Loving one''s father is a categorical imperative for children. Where had he gone wrong?

    He thought back to his father. Until tears gushed from his eyes.

    Again and again, Decem prayed that he would come to his rescue. Not like that day...

    But his father had gone, and left him alone.

    He was too weak, Decem was too weak, and that was why he had been abandoned. He wanted to see him just one last time, that was all he asked.

    The King accursed the world, which had been so cruel as to separate them. Just a child who missed his father.

    ''You still don''t understand? Your father never loved you.''

    That voice again. They say the last moments are like a flash of the happiest moments that flash before your eyes, just before you die.

    The elf king saw none of that, only the smiling face of a woman with long black hair.

    ''Father¡­ please¡­ help me. Father¡­ Dad¡­ it hurts¡­ it hurts so much¡­''

    And his father, there with her.

    For the first time, Decem could see the truth behind his parent''s gaze.

    No love, or affection. Nor hate, or contempt.

    Just nothing at all.

    When the cruelty was gone, only innocence remained.

    Charon''s Guidance pierced through his heart, it was the only and final act of filial piety Decem Hougan received in all his life.

    Thus ended the story of the great monarch. A life as brilliant and transitory as the glory achieved.

    The elves burned his remains, leaving nothing more of him to remain in this world.

    The spirit of the world was satisfied.

 Chapter 31: Queen for a day?

    Chapter 31

    Queen for a day?

    When the news of the king''s death reached the villages, the first reaction all the elves of the Evasha forest villages had was one.

    "Humbug!"

    This was completely normal behavior. After all those years, many of them had learned that hope can be even crueler than resignation.

    But the more time passed, the more the same news continued to circulate.

    At first a whisper, which out of embarrassment of being laughed at was uttered in a low voice.

    Then louder and louder, until no one could silence it anymore.

    Therefore, moved by curiosity and against the advice of the elders, many young people began a pilgrimage to the capital of Crescent Lake.

    There, they were amazed to find that the rumors were true.

    Decem Hougan, king of the elves and ruler of the Evasha Forest, had indeed passed away.

    The royal throne had remained empty, as there was no suitable heir, and at the moment the capital was ruled by a committee made up of a few surviving ministers.

    Or, at least, this was the official version.

    In their hearts, the elves had already chosen their new ruler.

    "So, when is it that we will return home?" Divine Chain asked the other Black Scripture members. They were currently staying in one of the royal chambers, awaiting new orders.

    "Cardinals Santini and Lauransan will be here shortly," Astrologer had adjusted quite well to her temporary arrangement. She lovingly stroked her ferret while reading a book borrowed from the royal library. "Now that the elf king is dead, they are our allies again. I wonder what the Council''s intentions are for the future."

    "Do you guys think Lady Zesshi will now become the new queen?" The tattooed man asked, running a hand to tidy up his messy hair. "After all, she is the only suitable heir at the moment," he said. "She and Mr. Logem." A brief pause. "Or Miss Aella."

    "I don''t know," Myriad Barriers was intent on doing push-ups on the floor. Even in calm situations, training came first for him. The pinnacle of diligence. "But we can''t rule it out. Having a new pro-Theocracy ruler would make our relations much easier to manage."

    "On the other hand," Time Turbolence interrupted, savoring a cup of coffee that one of the maids had brought. Despite the fact that they were still wary of humans, the gratitude the palace staff felt for their little team outweighed any distrust. "I don''t think Argland would take kindly to a new nation under our indirect influence. Platinum Dragon Lord might finally step in after all these years of slumber."

    A bad prospect, but not unlikely. As they say, troubles never end.

    "By the way, where is Lady Zesshi now?" It had been hours now since Infinite Magic had gotten out of the comfortable bed where she was resting. To say that she had become one with it would not have been too far from the truth. "I have not seen her since last night."

    "Where she always is," Divine Chant answered her, brushing back her long blond hair. "In the treasure room. She has not moved from that place since we discovered it. I think Miss Aella is with her."

    They knocked on the door.

    "Come in," Time Turbolence was the one who gave permission to enter.

    "We''re sorry for the disturbance," a pair of maids slowly opened the doorway to the room. "But the people you were waiting for have arrived."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "What do you think this is for, Aella?" Antilene inspected a peculiarly shaped ring between her fingers. An indigo gemstone was set in it, glowing with a warm light. "Perhaps to resist charm effects. Or it might confer some buff against curses. Add it to the list."

    The elf took the object and set it aside. "I will tell our druids to do some experiments to test its abilities." The treasure room was now divided into several sections. On one side had been placed all those items that could be easily identified and cataloged, on another those that were to be tested, and finally those yet to be inspected. "But why don''t you take a rest, Lady Zesshi? You''ve been cooped up in here for days. The festivities are almost over, and you haven''t enjoyed them one bit."

    "I''ve already told you there''s no need to call me Lady Zesshi," by now the half-elf had no need to hide her identity. Not in front of her, at least. "Just Antilene is more than fine."

    The woman bit her lip, hesitating. "I have not yet thanked you properly for what you have done, Lady Zessh... Antilene." A lifetime, in all honesty, would not have been enough to repay that debt. Yet she did not feel displeased at all by that circumstance. "I think you could call me by my real name, as well... Agravaine."

    The information was quickly registered by Antilene, who merely shrugged as if nothing different had occurred. "Agravaine... that''s a good name." Not that she was really an expert at judging. "As for your request just now. I have no intention of taking part in the festivities. I don''t think there''s much to celebrate."

    Since she had killed her father, Antilene had not felt very elated. She had certainly lifted a weight from her heart, knowing that now her mother could rest in peace. But the half-elf felt that something was still missing.

    Perhaps that was why she kept spending so much time in the treasure room. Looking for answers to interrogatives she didn''t even know had been raised.

    "We still know so little about the king," the half-elf murmured in a soft whisper. "I hoped that here I would find some clue to where he came from. What his origins were, but the results were unsatisfactory." There was certainly no shortage of precious objects in that place, but nothing that would allow Decem''s origins to be traced. Antilene''s talent had not reacted to anything up to that point. If nothing else, the questions were growing.

    "Does it truly matter that much?" Agravaine asked, still intent on compiling the list. "This story is finally over, so I don''t see why we should keep wrapping our heads around irrelevant matters." After the long night, comes the morning sun. Why not enjoy the warmth of its rays?

    "I know it sounds ridiculous from your point of view," Antilene had gripped a sword with a diamond-encrusted hilt. At first glance, more a precious heirloom than a battle tool. "In fact, truth be told, I don''t even know how much longer I can keep this up." She cleaved the air to feel the sharpness of the blade. Quick. Methodical.

    Agravaine did not even sense the beginning of the movement, distinguishing only the tilt of the wind caused by the cuts.

    "This sword is not enchanted, but the sharpness is out of the ordinary," placing it back in the sheath from where she had drawn it, Antilene handed it to the woman. "I sense something else¡­ I see¡­ My grandpa uh¡­ It might be useful to determine what material it was forged from. I think adamantium was also used, but I''m not sure. Better ask a blacksmith."

    "I will arrange that as soon as possible," Agravaine placed the weapon among the items that needed to be examined more, marking on her list a quick note about what needed to be done. "I do not mean to say that I do not understand you," she resumed the speech of a few moments earlier. "It''s just that after all these years, enjoying some peace still doesn''t feel real to me. My heart might burst with happiness. I just want you to feel the same."

    "You don''t need to worry about me," Antilene paused, contemplating the rest of the treasury. By now they were almost done with that job. "I''m fine. It''s just that..." There was a twinkle in Agravaine''s gaze, a mixture of apprehension and admiration that did not escape the half-elf. "Now that I have completed my goal, I feel a void inside me. I''ve spent years planning this revenge, but now that it has been accomplished, it''s as if with it the reason that drove me forward has also gone."

    Some might have called what she felt mere greed. A quest that would never find peace, always intent on finding a way to satiate its hunger. And perhaps they would have been right.

    "I know that both elves and humans right now are celebrating me as the hero who defeated the monster," and wasn''t that what she had always wanted deep down? "Don''t make your own dreams come true, or you may find that in the end, the dream is the only concrete thing you have left."

    "Now you have much more," Agravaine intertwined their fingers, in a familiar gesture. "You have me. And Logem. And all the others. We are a family, that can never change."

    "I don''t know what it''s like to have a real family," Antilene replied sincerely. "I buried my mother¡­ my mothers a long time ago. And the closest thing I''ve ever had to resembling a father is a cranky old man."

    "Do you think you''re ready to find out?" Not an easy question to answer.

    "I still have a lot to think about," the half-elf fixed her tousled hair after hours spent in that room. The need for a hot bath was growing. "But at least I''m sure there will be plenty of time to figure out what to do."

    "Why don''t you stay here with us?" It was amazing to think that until a week ago the woman now so accommodating was having a hard time concealing her contempt. Antilene had no difficulty understanding what had changed; the answer was obvious. This did not make it pleasant, in any case. "Our people need you."

    One king dies, another is made.

    Or to be more precise a queen, in this case.

    "I thought we had already talked about this," Antilene recalled a quick conversation held on the very night they had burned Decem''s body. "These are not my people. I only helped you because our interests concurred this time. Nothing more, nothing less."

    A life spent guarding a tower would not be replaced by one spent guarding a castle. Trading a prison for a bigger one was not a great exchange.

    "Do you intend to return to the Theocracy, then?" Agravaine maintained a firm tone of voice, although she could not hide an almost unnoticeable melancholy. To whom was it directed? To Antilene or herself? "And once there what will you do? Will you kill anything that is not human until the time you can retire to a small cottage in the countryside?"

    "I have no idea," and that was the whole truth. "All I know is that I''m not going to sacrifice myself for someone else again. I plan to live my life for myself, and for no one else." Selfishness? Maybe. But she preferred to be selfish rather than unhappy.

    The doors to the treasure room opened. An old butler, one of the king''s last ''purchases'', and a naive-looking maid entered with the utmost respect.

    The man had long white hair that fell down his shoulders like a cascade of pearls. Despite his discarded clothes, he moved with such grace that he represented the very concept of elegance. The finely patched vest showed that he held in high regard the way he presented himself to others.

    The girl had short red hair whose locks framed delicate features. Thin lips and sincere eyes gave her an approachable feel. Her maid''s dress, though certainly not woven of precious materials, accentuated her modest and genuine nature.

    As soon as they saw Antilene, both prostrated themselves in adoration, their eyes twinkling with a distinctive sparkle.

    Nothing abnormal about that devotion. It had been a couple of days now that the half-elf had grown accustomed to those reverences from anyone who crossed her presence even for a moment.

    At first, Antilene was annoyed by it, but once she realized that trying to persuade those elves to behave differently toward her would be much more exhausting than simply letting it go, it had been easy to figure out what was best to do.

    Was this perhaps the way the first humans had welcomed the Six Great Gods? A similarity to what was written in the diary was certainly there.

    "Go ahead and speak," until commanded, they would not move from their adoring position. They treated her more like a God rather than a normal girl, to her displeasure. "Although it seems hard to accept, I am not my father."

    "Your majesty," the girl began. There had been no ceremony or coronation of any kind. To be precise, there had been nothing at all that would suggest she was the new queen, but the elves had already begun to treat her as such. "We are sorry to disturb you, but some people wish to see you."

    "Who is it?" Overlooking the title she had been given, Antilene turned her curiosity to the news she had been told. "If it is once again some village chief who has come to pay his respects to me, they will receive the same treatment that their predecessors received. I do not intend to waste my time with such nonsense."

    "It is not about elves this time, My Queen," the butler had risen, still remaining in a deferential posture. Now they had even started calling her queen. Splendid. Didn''t these rubes know the meaning of ''coronation ceremony''? No, of course not. The last time there had been something like that they had probably thought it best to erase the memory of it from their minds. "This is about humans."

    "Humans?" There was only one possible explanation then. "Have the Cardinals arrived?"

    "Yes, your majesty," the awe in the maid''s gaze was more penetrating than a knife. Did being a savior mean that anyone would begin to be unable to hide the intense amount of admiration they felt? "They are a man and a woman, accompanied by a personal escort. For now, we have seated them in the dining room. Normally the throne room would have been the most suitable place but unfortunately, it is still being renovated after the... um... battle."

    "It must be Raymond and Berenice, then," Antilene pretended not to have heard the part about her latest ''feat''. "I''ll head over to them right away."

    "One moment," before she could turn away, the butler caught her attention with a fake cough. "Do you intend to present yourself to the emissaries of a foreign nation dressed like that?"

    The half-elf gave herself a quick glance. She was not wearing her usual armor -remaining in the watchful custody of the Black Scriptures- opting instead for a simpler outfit consisting of a white cotton shirt and linen pants.

    Shaking his head, the elf replied, "You have been wearing those clothes since this morning. They do not befit a person of royal rank," but she was not a queen or anything like that! "I took the liberty of commissioning a dress suitable for official occasions. If Your Majesty would like to follow me, I will lead you to the room where it is kept."

    "It will fit you like a glove, Lady Antilene," the maid added, beginning to nudge her toward their goal. "All the princesses of the neighboring realms will envy your beauty and elegance!"

    With the tip of her eye, Antilene glimpsed Agravaine struggling to hold back a laugh.

    This was a bad situation!

    Not that she minded wearing something more refined, but if she continued to indulge the elves with their comedy, she would soon end up being unable to break away from the role they had given her without asking for her approval.

    "There will be no need for that. I''m perfectly comfortable even like this," the half-elf tried not to hurt their feelings, but she stood firm in her decision. For she was not one of those pathetic spineless people who never voiced what they felt for fear of hurting their interlocutors or shattering whatever silly idealized image they had of her. "As a matter of fact, we''ve wasted far too much time! Maybe we''ll talk about it another time..." It was frustrating enough that no matter where she went, no one could separate her from the carefully crafted image they made for themselves, no matter how far from the truth it was.

    And without waiting for a reaction, Antilene hurriedly headed to where the emissaries of the Theocracy were waiting for her.

    As she predicted, it was indeed the Cardinals of Earth and Fire. Both Raymond and Berenice were waiting for her seated at a large table, accompanied by a handful of guards. Waiting with them were also Time Turbolence and that elf minister who had managed to escape her ''peculiar entry'' during the battle with her father.

    "Sorry for the delay," Antilene lowered her head in apology as she crossed the entrance, Agravaine behind her repeating the same gesture. "I hope you did not have to wait long."

    "Not at all. In truth it was a pleasant wait," Raymond was the first of the two to open his mouth. Both he and Berenice wore informal clothes different from the usual tonics of their position. Seeing him dressed like that the half-elf, now used to seeing him only in his official robes, was seized with unexpected nostalgia. "The little welcome buffet was very good indeed," he said, pointing to several baskets of fresh fruit and a couple of bottles of wine resting carefully on the table. "And the prime minister was an excellent host!"

    "I live only to serve Lady Antilene," the surviving minister also shared, like the others, that persistent adoration for the girl. "It is only thanks to her that I am still here today."

    Funny, because the only reason he had been saved had been an unexpected stroke of luck. But the half-elf avoided pointing this out to the elf. Not least because, in all likelihood, it wouldn''t have done any good.

    "Were there any problems with the trip?" Antilene asked, as she found her place at the table. Her sister sat right by her side. The butler and the maid who had followed them instead stood by, waiting for orders that would never come. "I personally saw to it that there were no problems."

    "We noticed that. It was certainly a ... stimulating experience!" Berenice sketched a smile somewhere between astonishment and embarrassment. Her eyes moved furtively to seek complicity with the guards, who were also still shaken by the experience. "It''s not every day you get escorted by a dragon in the flesh. I''m not sure I would do it again."

    "The Emerald Dragon Lord decided to settle near the capital for ''protection''. Protection of whom, I''m not sure. So it seemed only right that he should return the favor the elves did him by making himself useful," a kind of lodging tax, however absurd a dragon paying dues to a country seemed. "When the little ones are grown, I think he will find accommodation more suited to his needs."

    "A sensible decision," the butler said, receiving a nod of agreement from the maid. "We could not have expected less from Her Majesty."

    "Um, yes, of course," Antilene replied, trying to hide her embarrassment. "But you don''t need to call me your majesty."

    "Would you prefer Your Highness?"

    "Never mind..."

    "You seem to be settling in nicely these days," Raymond noted, slowly caressing his goatee, amused by that friendly exchange. "I''m glad to see you so cheerful. If I may say so, you look almost radiant. When the news of the king''s death reached the supreme council, we were all incredibly relieved."

    "Time Turbolence kept us updated throughout the expedition," Berenice continued, smiling sweetly. Her small black eyes shone with motherly affection. "We have been eagerly awaiting the outcome of the confrontation. I would like to say that we were all convinced of your victory, but to lie at this point would not be fair," the second Black Scripture seat nodded, a sign that he too shared the Cardinal''s apprehension. "Now that the war is over, a new era of prosperity awaits both us and the elves!"

    "All very nice," Antilene rocked in her chair as she turned her gaze to the ceiling. "But now why don''t you tell me why you are here? If you had waited a few more days, I would have gone back to the Theocracy myself and brought my report. My father''s treasure has now been cataloged and all valuables will be transported to our capital."

    Woe to the vanquished. Except for a couple of magical items useful for reconstruction, much of Decem''s legacy would soon enter the hands of the Theocracy. After all, it was her rightful inheritance.

    "Speaking of which," the Earth Cardinal paused for a moment to think, trying to find what were the best words to use. "Have you decided what to do now, Lady Zesshi? Or should I call you Your Majesty?"

    "You can also just call me by my name, Raymond," replied the half-elf, visibly bored by the conversation. "We are old teammates. There is no need for formality between us."

    The Cardinal did not think so, but tried to comply.

    "So may we know your answer, Lady Antilene?"

    If she had known, she would have gladly answered.

    "I haven''t decided yet," being frank was her only option left. No sense in lying. "I thought traveling would be good for me. Visit the world and find a new path. There is so much to see outside the Theocracy."

    "Remember, you can always find a home with us," had a wooden table and a hint of embarrassment not separated them, Berenice would probably have embraced her. "In truth, the Supreme Council had thought it best for the time being for you to remain here, as the rightful ruler of the elves."

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Agravaine''s expression brightened in astonishment, but from the satisfied smile she had it was not hard to guess what her opinion on the matter was. Same with the servants and the prime minister.

    "Why do you say that?" And more importantly, why had the Cardinals also come up with that crazy idea? Antilene could not wrap her mind around it. "Point one. I just can''t see myself as queen of a people that, frankly, I don''t give a damn about," she would have expected any reaction from the elves present, but they continued to look at her as if nothing had changed. What condition had her father reduced them to? "And point two. Even if I agreed, I have no idea how to govern a state and I''m not going to learn now."

    What special kind of idiot would take on all that responsibility without having a clue of what to do?

    "Obviously, the title of Queen would only be temporary and cosmetic," Raymond explained, trying to persuade her of the merits of the proposal. "Although we have tried to keep your existence a secret all these years now there is nothing we can do. Our efforts have not been enough to prevent your clash with the king from spreading to neighboring nations."

    One of the most powerful things in the world was gossip. Stopping them was virtually impossible. At most, one could control them, in a limited way.

    The Theocracy was a master of controlling information, however not even the expert propagandists of Slaine had been able to limit the spread of the news of Decem''s death. The elves were just scattered in too many places at the same time, and thanks to [Message] separated families had made contact almost immediately.

    "I admit that I did not pay much attention to what the elves were telling about me, or to stop some of them from leaving the capital," all things considered, after the war was over many of them had decided to leave Evasha Forest and the ominous memories of the conflict behind forever, in search of a new place to live. "Yet I don''t understand how this relates to my situation."

    "Our relations with the elves are still uncertain," Berenice searched for a possible reaction from the prime minister, who merely looked at Antilene apprehensively. "I don''t need to explain to you that many of the citizens of the Theocracy did not take the end of hostilities with them well. In return, I''m sure many of the elves still have a lot of resentment toward us."

    Antilene noticed that from the beginning of the conversation, her sister had not uttered a word. Agravaine''s impassive gaze seemed only a mask that might give way at any moment, now that she was looking at her properly.

    "And from what I understand you Cardinals believe that with me in charge, it will be easier for the elves to mend fences," thinking back to how they had treated her in the past few days, was not a far-fetched idea. But the half-elf had a feeling that it was not a simple diplomatic request that was required of her. "There''s more, isn''t there? You fear that a true dragon lord might attack."

    Both cardinals fell silent. But the concern on their faces was as easy to read as a children''s picture book.

    "We''re pretty sure that if you were to take an official position of another nation, at least Platinum Dragon Lord should be inclined to leave you alone," perhaps it was time for her to pay a visit to the dragon, to set the record straight. Where was it that he rested? The flying castle in the southern desert? "Our losses were profound. We cannot afford to open any more hostilities at the moment. It will take years for our army to return to the way it was before the king''s onslaught."

    "Don''t you care that you no longer have your secret weapon at your disposal?"

    "We are certain that if the need should come, you would not think twice about putting your life on the line for humanity."

    How annoying it was that they were right.

    "So, what have you decided to do?" Berenice''s face closed in questioning. The woman''s shoulders tightened as she waited for an answer while her cheeks filled with trepidation.

    Thinking back to what she had said earlier to her sister, Antilene wondered if she was ultimately a hypocrite. "I don''t think I have many alternatives except to abandon you all to go my own way," but everyone in that room knew she would not do that. The half-elf thought she had to learn to be more unpredictable. "Obviously, I''m not going to act like a normal queen. And I can''t stress enough that it will be a temporary arrangement."

    "You have nothing to worry about," the ministers and servants replied in unison. Perhaps it would be time for her to learn their names, since she would have to spend a lot of time with them. "Crescent Lake officials are used to handling things themselves. If it weren''t for the fact that every time one of us started to gain experience the king would kill them on a whim, we would now have a real bureaucratic elite."

    "I''m sure that''s true," actually, Antilene couldn''t have cared less about any of this. But she sported a smirk nonetheless to shoot down the elf. The latter, strangely enough, began to sweat as if bad memories had taken hold of him. "Surely this time there will be no shortage of opportunities to test you."

    "There is one more matter to be discussed," One of the guards handed Raymond a finely decorated invitation, which he handed to the half-elf. "The Emperor of Baharuth has induced a ball to celebrate the new ruler, to be attended by all the royal families in the surrounding area. He has even temporarily ceased hostilities with Re-Estize to call this special occasion."

    Certainly, the emperor of Baharuth was not a man who liked to waste time.

    "Interesting," Antilene took the invitation, feeling in her hands the finishing touches that adorned its definition. Truly a splendid piece of work. Too bad about the stench of rats against the wind that not even a great artist would have been able to hide. "It''s definitely a trap, but I''ve never been to Baharuth. A pity, given how close the Empire is compared to the Theocracy," the half-elf read aloud the name of the organizer on the card, taking care to spell the words well. She only had a general smattering with the language of the Empire and some of the letters felt unfamiliar. "Jircniv Rune Farlod El-Nix. I am curious to meet this precocious prodigy of whom I have heard so much."

    The tale of the Bloody Emperor, as he was called, had not escaped Antilene''s attention during her stay in the Theocracy.

    "I gather you are interested in participating," Berenice ventured. As was to be expected, even the Cardinal had little faith in the goodness of the young emperor''s initiative. "Jircniv is a shrewd boy. If he has spent time and resources to organize this ball, surely there are other intentions behind it that he intends to carry out."

    "Oh, for sure. And I can''t wait to find out," but curiosity was not the only thing that made Antilene eager to attend. ''The royal families of the land will gather here. Maybe some of them can give me clues to what I''m looking for.''

    Unlikely. But with no other alternatives, the half-elf was left with nothing but groping in the dark, hoping those clumsy attempts would lead her to the truth about her origins.

    ''Yeah, maybe I can get something from this situation.''

    The Cardinals rose from the table. Antilene and the elves did the same.

    "If it is all over, we will go. The journey ahead of us is long. We will gladly stay the night, but our schedule is full," and besides, having other humans from the Theocracy in the city would not be well received by all the elves, Antilene pondered.

    "Ahem...," Raymond cleared his throat, then turned to the minister. "In the coming days, a specialized delegation will arrive to continue the peace talks. Burying old grudges will not be easy, but we hope that future cooperation will be worth the effort."

    "''Likewise for us,'' the elf replied, not without managing to conceal a hint of discomfort. Some wounds would take a long time to heal, even when one lived for centuries.

    "I will go with you," Antilene interrupted them, the decision already made. "I want to personally take the sacred equipment back to the treasure room. And if I am to settle in this place, I have many things to bring here. Also, there is someone I need to talk to."

    "We were going to propose it ourselves, actually," Berenice said, bringing her lips together in a thin line. "It''s good that you learn etiquette, and we''ve already prepared some suitable teachers," the Cardinal pretended not to notice the annoyed expression that popped up quickly on the half-elf''s face. "Your servants will be permitted to accompany you. It''s wise to get used to always being surrounded by specialized attendants."

    "I guess there is some truth in those words," for sure, now her life had taken unexpected turns. Antilene did not know what to think about that. "We will meet at the entrance to the city in a couple of hours. Time Turbolence will round up the rest of the Black Scriptures."

    "Perfect."

    And with that, they said their goodbyes.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Then you will become our new queen. How about living your life only for yourself?"

    Both Antilene and Agravaine had returned to the room assigned to the former. With them were also the butler and the maid from before.

    "Yes, but it will be just for a few months," said the half-elf, as she checked that everything was in order. She was once again wearing the Wind God''s armor, Charon''s Guidance at her side. "A few years, at most."

    Sometimes, you had to compromise between what you wanted and what needed to be done. There would have been another opportunity for sure to be egotistical.

    "Still, we are honored that you have decided to accept the role of queen, Your Majesty!"

    "Yes, nothing makes me happier than to be in the service of the Kingslayer!"

    Was that what they called her? Kingslayer? Antilene had to be honest with herself... She liked it!

    "By the way, you haven''t told me your names yet," it would have been better to find something other than ''maid'' and ''butler'' to call the new servants.

    "My name is Etienne, your majesty!" The man replied, his intense gaze appeared like intent to judge her soul.

    "And mine is Melody," cheerfully added the girl, her big black eyes and the jovial facial expressions composing a soft smile.

    "Good. I''ll try to remember them," the half-elf was now out of the room when she turned to her sister. "Oh, I almost forgot. Where is Logem? I''d like to say goodbye to him before I leave."

    Antilene had not seen him since that night when they had burned their father. The latest news she had received about the scarred elf had him busy finding suitable housing for the king''s orphans.

    "You know what he''s like," Agravaine replied to her, trying, not with very good results, not to let her concern show. "One day he''s here and the next you don''t know where he''s gone. I''m sure when the time comes, he''ll show up."

    Indeed, Antilene was not the only one who found herself having to reevaluate her life from scratch after Decem''s death. But the thought that Logem was also going through an inner turmoil similar to her own had not touched the Kingslayer in the slightest until that moment.

    After all, what she now hardly called family nonetheless remained strangers to her.

    Perhaps in the future things would change.

    "Let''s go!"

    A new chapter was opening.

    Imperial Palace of Arwintar

    A luxurious room.

    Precious furniture graced the interior. Despite their value, the furnishings never exceeded good taste, remaining faithfully balanced between the splendor of luxury and the placidity of sobriety.

    Soft light, warm as a summer afternoon gave a hint of color to the environment, making it extraordinarily cozy and welcoming for anyone who would enter.

    "We have also received confirmation of participation from Queen Oriculus," the secretary reported the latest news to his master. Despite his young age, the blond hair was already showing the first gray signs of many winters. "In addition to her usual entourage, she also seems to have requested the presence of a particularly trustworthy knight as an official escort."

    The emperor opened his eyes. The triclinium on which he was resting was accompanied by cushions so soft that they gave the feeling of lying on a gentle cloud. "It seems that wretched hag has managed to find time to pay us a visit. I thought her reign was now on the verge of collapse," the pleasure of comfort was not enough to indulge his mind, which remained always alert and sharp. "So the reports that the invasion had momentarily ceased were true. Loune, have you gathered information about this self-styled knight?"

    "Not much," the diligent secretary pulled out a paper from the many in his hand, then placed it neatly on the desk beside his ruler''s favorite resting place. "Our knights stationed in the Draconic Kingdom have not gleaned much information. From what they refer he seems to be a mercenary of some near country, probably the Theocracy. However, his origins can be traced to the southern kingdoms. His name is Gazef Stronoff, and his skill with the sword, observed during the war with the demi-humans, has been compared to the four imperial knights."

    "Oh," the young emperor''s lively amethyst eyes glittered with curiosity and desire after hearing the last sentence. "What do you think, Baziwood?"

    The question was directed to one of the bodyguards -the Four Imperial Knights- guarding the highest authority of the Baharuth Empire. At the moment, only two of them were present.

    "The way I see it, there are only two possible explanations, Jircniv," addressing the emperor in that informal way would have been, on any other occasion, seen as gross disrespect. In that case, it only emphasized the great trust that existed between the two. "First. During the battles that mercenary has dealt some lucky blows and his skills have been greatly exaggerated."

    "Yes, it could be," the emperor reflected aloud, barely holding back a yawn caused by drowsiness. "That cursed old woman might also have been spreading rumors around to increase the fame of a desk-created champion and convince more people to enlist in the army," one of the servants tending to him handed a bunch of grapes, the sweetness of which he savored with relish. "What about the second one?"

    "Well, it''s simple," the hardened muscles of the knight exploded in the armor as Baziwood crossed his arms, almost annoyed by that obvious question. "He is indeed as strong as they say."

    "And what do you think is the most likely hypothesis?" Jircniv asked, moving a strand of blond hair that had fallen on his forehead.

    "The second one," Baziwood answered truthfully. "The fact that he is alive is proof enough."

    "And who do you think would win in a confrontation between the two of you?"

    "Hard to say without more information," the strongest of the four imperial knights, also known as Lightning Bolt, stroked his chin in a pensive manner that did not suit at all his brutish appearance. "One thing is certain. If I were to find myself in the same situation as him, that is, facing a horde of demi-humans who want my scalp, I would have no second thoughts about what I would do. Running away with the tail between my legs."

    "Ahahahahah," Jircniv could not hold back a hearty laugh. "And no one would blame you for that, Sir. Baziwood," the sincerity of the reply had put him in a good mood. Knowing that his closest subordinates had no problem telling him unpleasant truths put him at ease. It made him believe that he could trust them in any situation.

    "Loune," he turned to his secretary. "I want you to find out as much as you can about this Gazef Stronoff. What he likes, what he dislikes, his aspirations, his sexual orientation¡­everything. If he is as extraordinary as you reported to me, we must not let him slip through our fingers." Jircniv was like that. If he found something -or someone- that piqued his interest, his first move was to try to seize it. An instinct that couldn''t be held back.

    "It shall be done, your highness!" The bow he received was a signal that the order had been understood.

    "Excellent," Jircniv stood up to stretch his legs. Keeping his body in shape had always been one of his top priorities. Charm and beauty were some of his best weapons, after all. "Changing topic, what about the guest of honor?"

    "We received news just a few hours ago from the Theocracy. The new elf queen has communicated her desire to take part in the ball. The Fire Cardinal has also confirmed her attendance."

    "Are you genuinely interested in this elf, Jir," the last guest in the room spoke for the first time. He was an old man whose skin was barely visible hidden by countless wrinkles. If wisdom and experience had been embodied in human form, they would probably have taken on an appearance similar to his. "If the rumors we have gathered are true, this is indeed an unusual specimen. To think that the Theocracy hid such a secret. Who knows how many other mysteries lurk in their archives, waiting to be studied? If I could access them, I''m sure the history of magic would make great strides!"

    He smoothed a long white beard that reached his knees with his calloused hands, while lamenting the injustice of the circumstances. To hear him speak was like opening an ancient and precious text, to taste the immeasurable amount of knowledge contained within.

    "Of course, gramps," the tone of Jircniv''s voice was filled with deep familial affection. The imperial wizard was the closest thing to a family he had left, and the affectionate nickname proved it. "I can see that you think the same. The political life of the region will certainly be disrupted by this new entry. And only those who secure their assets when the storm arrives will enjoy the fruits of stability!"

    "But I still cannot believe that this elf is as powerful as they say," objected the second of the imperial knights: Nimble Arc Dale Anoch. The nobility of his features was second only to the grace of his bearing. "I mean, routing an army of fifty thousand men is an extraordinary feat worthy of his lordship Fluder. Even if we were to admit that the king of the elves succeeded alone, another, even more dangerous actor now presents himself."

    "I understand your concerns," thinking back to the news of the defeat of the Theocracy''s army, Jircniv once again felt his stomach begin to fall prey to sickness. He drank a glass of white wine to calm himself.

    At the time, aware of Slaine''s military superiority over the Empire, he had feared that after an eventual fall of the Theocracy, it would then be their turn. Therefore, the young emperor had momentarily ceased hostilities with Re-Estize. Both to conserve his forces and to have an ally in case the need would arise. "But gramps and I think the stories told in the taverns are well-founded, or at least reliable to a great extent," yet the emperor knew where this reluctance of the young knight to accept the news came from. Indeed, it was a dangerous situation to handle with the utmost care.

    "Evil deities'' stories dated back only two centuries. It was not unthinkable to imagine that one of them had managed to escape the battle against the thirteen heroes and assumed the role of ruler of the elves. Or, more simply, the king of the elves was simply gifted with an uncommon talent. An outlier, if you will," and, for that matter, proof of these exceptional individuals was in the room with them. "It''s frightening to think about, but there are monsters in this world that are beyond our wildest imaginations."

    "The disaster caused by Landfall shows us that this world is poised on a thin piece of paper placed on the pointed top of a mountain, at the mercy of strong hurricanes," Fluder agreed with him. Once the harsh reality was uncovered, the roads that opened were that of fear and that of endurance. Jircniv had chosen the latter. "If this Queen Antilene is indeed as exceptional as they say, meeting her could be crucial to my research."

    As usual, the eagerness to reach what he called ''the Abyss'' was the compass that guided the imperial mage''s every thought and action. Jircniv preferred not to imagine how far his loved master would go to reach it.

    "Why don''t we just toss her into the arena against the Martial Lord when she arrives?" Baziwood proposed. Had it come from anyone else, the suggestion would have been accepted as the folly that it was. Instead, Lighting Bolt was frighteningly serious. "In that way, we could verify with our own eyes her battle prowess. I think I heard that the champion''s manager was lamenting about not being able to find opponents up to the mark."

    "That might be a good idea," the young emperor''s face colored with an arrogant smirk. Of course, he did not consider that nonsense even for a single moment. Pretending nothing was said, Jircniv continued. "Gentlemen, what lies before us is an opportunity like few others. Years and years of hidden knowledge from the most powerful country in the area combined with a body that could edge toward invincibility."

    "It is not hard to see that a plan has formed in your mind, Jir," for Fluder to decipher his beloved prot¨¦g¨¦''s intentions was as simple as solving a child''s riddle. If reaching the depths of magic had been as simple as cherishing that young boy, by now the old wizard would have long ago accomplished his raison d''¨ºtre. "Don''t tell me you plan to use the girl to your advantage."

    "Isn''t that what you always tell me, gramps?" The young emperor tilted his head slightly, the eyes turned toward his old teacher, but his gaze focused on a future he could feel was so close enough to be grasped. "I think it''s time for me to think about settling down, too."

    "You don''t mean..."

    "Nothing certain or definitive, of course," to surprise the preceptor who had taught him everything always amused Jircniv. "But yes, I plan to ask the new Queen to marry me."

    ?

    Granz''s mind gave one order, and her body carried out another.

    The scorching desert sun beat down with force. Besides her, no one else could be seen for miles.

    ''Why am I here?''

    No matter how hard she tried, her own brain could not provide a satisfactory answer.

    Vengeance was the only impulse that was always present with certainty in her being. A thirst for revenge that was not her own was the source of every actions.

    The undead passed yet another dune. Not even the remnants of any civilization had left the slightest trace in the place where she now stood. She remembered brushing past a fortress manned by a few humans in coming to that place.

    How many days had passed since then? If only she could think clearly.

    The Saintess of White''s consciousness was in turmoil. The countless galaxies that formed the universe known as Granz Locker were intermingling in perpetual motion.

    In the luckiest moments, she could regain something close to self-awareness.

    In the worst ones, there was only a voice filled with hatred that could be heard in the starless void.

    His.

    For the moment, she was in an intermediate situation. But how much longer would it last?

    ''Walk. You''re almost there.''

    The voice commanded, and she complied.

    After a few hours that seemed interminable, the monotony of the desert was replaced by an unusual sight.

    Ancient rubble towered timidly in the center of an almost drained oasis. Indeed, it was a mystery of magic how those four stones still could stand.

    Granz approached, when she arrived at her destination an all too familiar sight. Undead, thousands of them. And of all kinds. Even some elder liches were among them.

    ''Don''t worry, they won''t hurt you.''

    Not that they would be a match for her. But with what little conscience remained she found it strange that none of them had attacked her yet. They seemed almost in the grip of a mystical trance that had separated them from this earthly plane.

    The undead walked through what remained of the gateway of what was once perhaps a splendid palace. Now only a sign of the indifference of time.

    The corridors were also haunted with ghostly presences, though they followed the behavior of their fellows outside. A few coats of arms that to call ruined was to pay them a compliment, had remained attached to the walls, with the same eagerness as cockroaches that do not want to be exterminated.

    From those remaining fragments, the only thing Granz was able to distinguish were two crossed scepters resting on a completely red plane, the luster of which had now faded.

    Red seemed to be the dominant color in that now abandoned place. Shreds of curtains, remnants of carpets, and old armor now abandoned were various shades of that hue. Even what remained of the robes worn by the undead were of that color. There was no doubt that the lords of that old palace had chosen red as the symbol of their Household.

    ''It''s near. I can sense it.''

    The voice became more mellifluous, barely able to hide the increasing excitement.

    Following his directions, Granz entered a room larger than the previous ones. Crossing the threshold was pleasant; the air one breathed was composed of death and decay. The Saintess of White felt invigorated as she savored the most delicious of meals that could be offered to her.

    Looking around, she noticed a more massive presence of zombies than those she had previously observed. The undead carefully scrutinized the clothing -or what remained of it- to realize that these were most likely servants and guests whom the latter had been called upon to serve.

    The bizarre thing was that they were slowly continuing to mimic the human behaviors they had had to leave behind after the ''transformation''.

    Butlers walked around with empty trays that they offered to their masters, who, in return, grabbed the air to perform meaningless gestures.

    Ungainly couples who moved without any rhythm, listening to nonexistent music to engage in grotesque parodies of grand gala dances.

    Waitresses trying to clean that endless dirt with termite-eaten tools. The dust they raised trying to move now unusable brooms only made that already disastrous situation worse.

    Finally, half-destroyed jaws attempting to make sounds that sounded even vaguely human, but only came out as distorted parodies of whatever their language had once been.

    If Hell was to have its own nightmarish court, Granz thought it should not be too dissimilar to the one that now stood before her very eyes.

    ''Don''t worry about these pops. They have already undergone the judgment of time. Quick, get the crown!''

    And it was then that Granz saw the reason why she was in that place.

    At the back of the room were positioned two thrones side by side. Seated on them, as many skeletal figures remained completely still, were it not for their fingers that kept intertwining in a sea of tiny movements.

    On the head of one of them was placed a headdress woven entirely of thorns, the sharp point of which was comparable to an exquisitely crafted blade. Green gems from which negative energy emanated were set in the center of it. Written in the center, in blood, was an inscription that Granz read as ''I.N.R.I.'' but whose meaning she was unable to discern.

    ''Take it!''

    Thundered the voice.

    The Saintess of White felt her mind start to become clear. The control exercised over her had faded, though not entirely gone, still imprinted in her soul, and now her thoughts began to belong to her once again.

    She approached the object of her master''s desire. But why had a being of such great powers as he needed her help if the desire for that crown was so much?

    Evidently, the master couldn''t take it alone.

    Granz touched it with her hands, when she felt a surge of energy pushing her back.

    A solemn voice, eerily similar to the one controlling her, but more noble and solemn, echoed through the room.

    "Here are kept the remains of the King of Pestilence! Go away, intruders, if you do not want to make the world recapitulate once again into darkness!"

    Granz ignored it. Not that there was any other choice.

    She examined that strange crown more closely. A magical seal had been placed on it as a guard, to prevent anyone from appropriating it.

    The undead recognized the magic used as a special form of sealing spell belonging to the seventh tier. There were not many other incantations belonging to that rank suitable for that purpose, so she was sure of being not mistaken.

    But there was also something unusual about it. The seal seemed partly already broken. As if for a gateway that required two keys to be opened, the first one had already been inserted.

    Try as she might, she could not recognize those tiny traces of magic that still hovered. Regardless, it had been a stroke of luck.

    To break a magic seal of that type there were two ways.

    The first consisted of a thorough study of the magic formula and the adoption of a suitable counter spell perfected with details extrapolated from insight into the original. It was an effective but time-consuming method.

    The second was simpler. Higher-tier magic would have achieved the purpose in most cases without requiring much effort.

    "[Counter-Lock]!"

    The seal was broken.

    Granz took the crown in her hands. A surge of power erupted from it.

    Suddenly, there was a scream.

    The spell that seemed to have put the other undead in the palace into a trance was as if vanished.

    She felt herself being grabbed from behind. The two skeletons on thrones were trying to take back what had been stolen from them.

    "[Lighting Bolt]!"

    Granz''s index fingers began to light up. The air grew hot as particles of artificial light accumulated on her fingers.

    An electric discharge drew a parabola of pure energy. The bones of the attackers became the conductors of the spell.

    They crumbled instantly.

    ''Enough of this nonsense! It''s time to go back.''

    The voice returned, louder than before. Granz felt her consciousness fading again.

    In her last moments of lucidity, she realized one thing. The master was not invincible. He had needed her assistance because he, too, had a weakness.

    ''[Silent Magic-Control Undead]!''

    She cast the last spell before losing herself again in the darkness.

    Her last thought was a prayer of hope.

    A prayer that her plan hadn''t been found out.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Antilene Heran Fouche:

    Fighter (10)

    Berserker (10)

    Master Fighter (10)

    Lesser Valkyrie/Almighty (5)

    Weapon Master (7)

    Rogue (1)

    Assassin (5)

    Executioner (10)

    Cleric (10)

    High Cleric (10)

    Inquisitor (10)

    Kingslayer (1)

    Tot: 89

 Chapter 32: The Voice of Fire

    Chapter 32

    The voice of Fire

    Draconic Kingdom

    "Come, ladies and gentlemen! The show is about to begin! We hope you have come prepared, because what you are going to witness today is not just entertainment like the ones you are used to, but an experience more unique than rare!"

    The auctioneer''s voice rang out like a clang of bells in the silence of the desert.

    Gazef watched the crowd huddle in the middle of the square. The cackling cries of children begging their parents to hurry so as not to let the best seats slip away mingled with the sweet whispers of love from young couples trying to seclude themselves in that sea of onlookers.

    The horse on which he was riding stopped, trying to make room for himself in that messy throng. The chaos did not bother the rider, who considered that explosion of life a refreshing respite from the depressing atmosphere to which he had been accustomed on his journey.

    "Things here in Kami-Yth are going better than I expected," his voice was raised to be heard by the people in the carriage he was escorting. "It almost seems as if the war never touched these areas of the kingdom."

    "It is comforting to see my people enjoying themselves after so long," Queen Draudillon Oriculus replied from inside the cabin. "Now that our conflict with the Beastmen is at a standstill, I hope that soon all the other cities will be able to follow this one''s example."

    "Captain, do you think we were right to come to this place?" Iovino, who was riding to his right, asked.

    Gazef pulled on the animal''s reins, signaling for it to stop. "It has been months now since the demi-humans have attacked and the territory of the Draconic Kingdom has almost returned to its original features," he said. A cold wind chilled his bones. "And now that winter has set in, hostilities will probably wait until spring to resume."

    ''Only, it''s a pity we don''t see snow around here,'' reflected the former mercenary. For someone like him who had always been accustomed to the warm climates of the south, seeing cities piling up with whiteness was always a dazzling sight. ''But after all, this is mostly a port overlooking the sea. There will be other opportunities on this trip.''

    The marine air penetrated his lungs. The smell of saltiness grew in intensity as the lapping of the waves on the nearby beach became more pronounced.

    "I heard the Black Scriptures have retreated," his second murmured under his breath, so as not to be heard. "I would have liked to see them up close. But I suppose that''s a privilege reserved for a select few. Too bad."

    "I can see where your disappointment comes from. I, too, would have liked to meet great heroes. It would have been a great opportunity to hone my swordsmanship," what military strategies and martial arts did that unit shrouded in mystery use? Just thinking about it made the Theocracy captain''s blood boil in excitement. "But once we arrive in the Empire, I''m sure there will be no shortage of champions to meet."

    "Why do you think the Queen specifically asked us to accompany her?" It was the common practice that at events such as the ball organized by the emperor the nobility was accompanied by knights who were ready to defend their honor should the need arise. "Don''t you think the Holy Knight was a more appropriate choice? He is the native of this nation, not us."

    Gazef could only hazard a guess. "I think that''s precisely why Queen Draudillon preferred to leave Cerebrate and his group to guard the border. If, Gods forbid, the battle were to begin again the citizens would feel safer with him protecting them," thinking back to the look filled with envy with which the Crystal Tear leader had looked at him when the Queen had externalized her decision made a small pang of guilt arise in the former mercenary.

    Nevertheless, he still could not silence the satisfaction of his heart in having received the confidence of such an extraordinary person as the ruler of the Draconic Kingdom. "Our responsibility is to make sure that we don''t embarrass the Queen and make her regret her choice."

    Normally, Gazef would have felt his heart be prey to a strong sense of inferiority. The possibility that he was not living up to the imposed expectations, that he was just an impostor who had stolen the place from those who deserved it more than him. Yet, this time, he had decided to silence the voices he felt drowned him out, to make room for a new self.

    Wasn''t that what numerous legends held in common? Death and rebirth. If he had died in Gelone''s fortress, it was time to be reborn as someone more worthy of the Gods.

    The small convoy stopped at an elevated lay-by, where a small stage had been set up especially for them. The Queen''s passage through town had been seen as an event to be celebrated. A sign that new, more prosperous times were coming.

    After the heavy rain, the serene azure of the sky had never seemed more vivid.

    "Please let me help you, Your Highness," Gazef held out his hand to the Queen to make it easier for her to get out of the carriage. The splendid, but complicated in its gingerly trimmed, black satin gown she wore, he reflected, must not have made her movements very agile. "I would not want your splendor to be marred by a bad fall."

    Draudillon held back a laugh. "How gallant, Messer Stronoff," the woman had assumed her adult form, believing a child-like appearance would have been inappropriate to meet her peers. Much more suited to a personality as charming and compassionate as hers Gazef believed. "Allow me to accept your proposal, then."

    The warrior''s calloused hands brushed against the queen''s soft, delicate ones. "Don''t worry, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Knowing that there is a valiant knight by my side only makes me feel protected," as if she could read from his expression what he was thinking, Draudillon dispelled with simple words the concern Gazef felt. "I am not as weak as my appearance might suggest."

    "I never thought, even for a moment, that you were weak, Your Highness," the Slaine captain told sincerely, escorting her to the seat that had been set up for their group. "He who makes others'' suffering his own is the one who is most endowed with a valiant soul. And, I apologize if mine may seem the crude utterances of an ignorant villager, there are very few rulers who love the people as you do. At least, according to my limited experience."

    Draudillon''s eyes widened in surprise. "You have nothing to apologize for, Sir. Stronoff," azure gems in which the heavenly sky could be seen glittered with candid thankfulness. "I only follow the teachings that my predecessors left me. I am only a mere student who just opened school books for the first time compared to those who made this nation great. Compared to him."

    "If placed on the shoulders of a giant, even the dwarf can see the horizon unfold to his gaze," Gazef recalled an analogy he had been told long ago, when he was still serving as a mercenary in the southern kingdoms. "We must not compare ourselves to our predecessors, for we run the risk of letting their shadows cloud our vision. Instead, we must preserve what they left us as a precious gift. Just as a loving father wants his son to reach heights that were precluded to him, those who came before us desire more than anything that their names be tarnished by their successors."

    "I did not know you were so philosophical, Sir Stronoff," the Queen''s scent deepened now that they were so close. It was reminiscent of a field of newly blooming violets. Not bad at all. "But I have to admit that this part of you doesn''t displease me."

    "I merely shared a small piece of wisdom that was in turn shared with this fool in the past," he said, as he assisted her to sit on the small throne that had been set up especially for her. Gazef remained standing, ever snappy, keeping watch. "Someone dear to me gave me the gift of telling me these words long ago, when I was still unsure of my path. The only way to compensate him for his kindness is to use them in my turn, in the hope that one day they will succeed in helping someone else."

    Even if that debt was never repaid, the man would never stop from trying.

    "You really need to tell me more about your past, Sir. Stronoff," the Queen''s expression lit up with curiosity. "There will be no shortage of time on our journey. Besides, we know so little about the human kingdoms in the south, I wonder how much they have to teach us."

    Gazef believed that very few things would be as dull as his personal history. Before coming to the Theocracy, and finding a new meaning in serving the weak, his life had been just a spear sold to the highest bidder. Certainly nothing that could have stimulated the interest of someone as sophisticated as Queen Oriculus.

    "Chief, everything is ready," Iovino distracted him from his thoughts, whispering in his ear. "Our men are in position. The show can begin."

    Obviously, they had not taken the Queen''s visit lightly, even though they were still within the borders of the Draconic Kingdom.

    In addition to the Queen''s Jade Guard and the men of his company, Gazef had managed to convince, not without little difficulty, Captain Nigun to provide him with some of his men as personal magic guards of the Queen. The Sunlight Scriptures were now mixed in the crowd, ready to intervene at any time.

    "Your Highness, it is an honor to have you in our city," a mature-looking man approached them with fast steps. One could in no way have called him old, his dark hair still glistening with color and his skin devoid of blemishes, but it had certainly been many moons since he was still a young boy. "Today Kami-Yth shines, thanks to the arrival of two outstanding women."

    "It must be Duke Hisham," Iovino speculated. The expensive robes the lord wore were proof enough of his position. "I hear he is one of the most powerful men in the whole kingdom," the second added. "In terms of wealth, he is perhaps in first place."

    Gazef did not know what idea to form about the noble, but the Queen''s relaxed expression suggested that relations between them were at least cordial. He remained alert, however, just in case.

    "The honor is all mine, dear cousin. I see that your work with this city has been impeccable. I have not seen my subjects so happy in a long time," Draudillon offered a hand that was promptly kissed by the duke. "For that, you have my heartfelt gratitude."

    "Oh, it was only possible because this city is so grand that it is as if it governed itself," the duke''s humility was all too ostentatious, Gazef noted. But it was also true that thanks to its location on the sea and proximity to the Theocracy, Kami-Yth was one of the Draconic Kingdom''s central hubs of trade. Now that hostilities with the Beastmen seemed to be over it must have seen a resurgence of former prosperity. "I have certainly been fortunate, unlike many other nobles."

    From the tone used Duke Hisham''s words gave the impression that something else lurked beneath them, but the captain played dumb. Instead, he placed his attention on the woman who had come to the center of the stage.

    "Is she the famous Lady of Tales?" Draudillon asked, attempting to observe her as best she could from her position. "I expected someone less...ordinary."

    ''Indeed, maybe it''s the distance, but she looks just like hundreds of villagers we met on the trip.'' Gazef reflected, trying not to let his disappointment show.

    "That''s what makes it so special," the city lord smoothed the thick handlebar mustache he wore on his face like a badge of honor. "The main course is her art. There are no eccentricities or other unnecessary frills to distract from what she offers. An out-of-the-ordinary experience. Very fortunate that she decided to delight us with her presence. Usually, weeks pass between her performances. And no one can ever know for sure where she actually is. As if she is teleporting all over the kingdom and who knows where else. Your Majesty, I''m sure you will be left speechless!"

    "I certainly hope so," a faint sigh escaped the Queen''s lips, fatigue that was expelled like nasty germs. "I can''t even remember the last time I could turn off my brain to enjoy a show in peace anymore."

    An expectation the Theocracy captain wholeheartedly agreed with. Taking part in something out of the ordinary would surely ease the burden on his soldiers'' hearts.

    The Lady of Tales took her place in the center of the stage.

    "Thank you for coming," her soothingly powerful voice echoed like a bolt of lightning in the surrounding area. It was ancient and deep, a reminder of a time now lost. "I know there is a very special guest among us today," irises shining like enchanted rainbows rested on Queen Draudillon. "For that very reason, today I will tell you a story unlike any other. A story that goes back to the time when deities of all kinds still walked among us. I hope you will appreciate it."

    The crowd''s ode was a sign that it was ready to listen.

    She began to speak.

    A long time ago, the Golden Palace stood in the center of the Continent, in the land of Kalian. It rose up to the heights of the heavens, almost as if to challenge the gods themselves with its power. Such was its splendor that all who gazed upon it remained even hours standing still admiring it, captivated by its perfect forms and the mazes of its symmetries.

    Gazef began to feel strange. It was as if the palace itself now appeared before his eyes, and he was one of those passersby who stopped to look at it in complete wonder. The Lady of Tales'' mellifluous words, sweeter than the best of honeys, were his only anchor that allowed him to distinguish reality from the dream.

    Yet, he did not feel uncomfortable by the situation. It was... beautiful.

    Like hearing your soul singing only for you.

    The story continued.

    Lord of the Palace was Morning. Few were as wise and far-sighted as he. Under his leadership, the kingdom prospered as never before. His appearance a masterpiece symbolizing the artistry of nature itself. The Gods themselves came to him, seeking counsel. Friends adored him, enemies feared him. His subjects paid him as many honors as they could.

    Gazef''s perspective shifted.

    He was now in a body that was not his own, in a throne room whose light was dazzling.

    "We give our greetings to the lord of all things!" The echoes of worship rose upward, hoping to be heard. "Such is his glory, that we mortals can only prostrate ourselves before him!"

    His heart remained unmoved by those words. It was not because he did not recognize how sincere they were, but simply could not appease that emptiness in his chest.

    He had everything, but felt nothing.

    Despite the fact that Morning had his every possible desire fulfilled, nothing could satisfy him. The most charming women, riches beyond imagination, exquisite foods, were only pastimes that made him momentarily forget how he actually felt.

    To no one he ever confided what he was experiencing, for fear that without him those who followed his guidance would end up lost. And so, the days passed, until Morning decided to take a walk in the beautiful garden of his mansion.

    Alone.

    He was alone.

    There was no one else with him. But this caused him no displeasure.

    He kept wandering, aimlessly. Every now and then he stopped to taste one of the delicious fruits growing on the trees.

    The peace of that enchanted valley seemed to soothe the sighs of his heart.

    A melodious song caught his attention. Thinking it was a nightingale displaying its art in search of spectators, Gazef headed in the direction from which that sound came.

    And such was his surprise when he saw the author of that melody.

    A woman with long black hair stopped her music as she looked at him with beautiful dark eyes.

    Gazef returned the gaze with even more intensity.

    They both remained like that, motionless, staring at each other in total silence. Hours passed, then days and eventually weeks went by. Forgetting everything. Of eating, sleeping, and even living.

    "Who are you?" The woman finally asked.

    "My name is Morning," Gazef replied, still spellbound. "May I know yours?"

    "I am Night," and the king''s void was filled. "But now I must go. Too long I avoided my duties."

    "Will I be able to see you again?" The thought of not being able to lay eyes on her one more time drove him mad.

    "Impossible," his hopes were shattered like glass. "I am not of this world."

    "Where are you from?" No matter how far away, Gazef would have done anything to reunite with her.

    "From up there," she said, pointing to the sky. "I have been absent far too long; I must return to my sisters Stars."

    "We will meet again," Gazef promised the woman. In all those years, never had he offered a more sacred oath. "Will you wait for me?"

    She hesitated. But finally, she uttered only one word. "Yes."

    Then Night vanished, to return to the place from whence she had come.

    When Morning realized what had happened, he returned as quickly as he could to his palace. Ignoring questions from officials who wanted to know where he had been all that time, a large expedition was prepared to find the object of his new love.

    From east to west, north to south, every corner of this world was explored. That was the first time that maps began to be drawn in order to be able to find the way in the most inaccessible places. Nevertheless, it was all in vain. Only one option remained for the king.

    "I will ask for help from the Gods, who so many times have sought it from me!"

    Gazef then went to the palace of the Gods, the way to access it having been revealed to him many years before in secret.

    When he arrived there, he realized how arrogant he had been. The Golden Palace by comparison with the abode of the Masters of the world was just an infant trying to imitate its parent.

    When he entered, the servants recognized the dear friend of their masters and invited him in, waiting for one of the lords of that place to receive him.

    It was the Fire God who welcomed him.

    What Gazef saw was only a vivid flame, burning with more intensity than a million suns, but from which came a friendly voice full of respect.

    "My dear friend Morning, we know why you are here," the deity told him. "And it pains us to have to tell you that it is not possible for you to be reunited with your beloved."

    Being pierced by a million swords would have been less agonizing.

    "Why do you say that?"

    "We have already once glossed over Night''s absence because of our deep friendship with you," the Fire God began to explain in a tone as calm as possible. "But we cannot allow it to happen again. Without her, it is impossible to determine the passage of time. She inspires poets, conciliates sleep and shows the way to the stars. Countless are the tasks entrusted to her."

    Despair gripped Gazef''s heart.

    "Is there really nothing I can do?" Without Night, life was not worth living. Gazef had known happiness and now the mere idea of returning to that empty emotionless past seemed more horrible than everything he could imagine. "No matter what! Just say it and I''ll do it!"

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The flame continued to burn, but his silence was evidence that he was weighing the whole issue.

    "A chance would be there," he finally uttered. Despair was chased away from hope. "''Be careful! What is asked of you is a great sacrifice, such as has never been seen before. Everything you have, everything you are will have to be forsaken. Are you prepared in any case?"

    The answer was one.

    "Without her, I am nothing. If you ask me to give up everything, I would never hesitate at any time, under any conditions. Riches are worthless if they cannot be shared with her. Food loses flavor if I cannot enjoy it with her. Why go on living, if I cannot grow old with her?"

    "Then are you ready?"

    "As I never have been before now!"

    "Your wish is granted!"

    The Fire God took Morning and placed him in the heavenly vault. If Night marked the end of the day, he would instead announce the beginning of a new one. They continued to being separate except at the moment when Night would retire after fulfilling her duty and Morning would prepare to begin his.

    Every day, until the end of all life, they would meet in that small span of time, to love each other as few have ever loved another before them. The moment when the two could crown their dream of happiness took the name of dawn. No matter how far along Night might be, Morning would always return to her.

    "Truly amazing!" Duke Hashim''s astonishment-filled words brought Gazef back to his senses. "I had never experienced anything like this before!"

    The Slaine captain looked around, praying that while his mind was clouded nothing too serious had happened.

    He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that, except for the startling silence, nothing out of the ordinary seemed to have happened.

    No, something unusual was there.

    "Your Highness, why are you crying?" From the Queen''s eyes small tears began to fall, resembling precious crystals. "Has something happened?"

    "No, nothing to worry about," she reassured him, as one of the ladies-in-waiting handed her a handkerchief to dry herself. "It''s just that every time I heard the Lady of Tales'' voice I began to be filled with a strange nostalgia. There was something vaguely familiar about it, as if I had heard it before and my mind associated it with sweet memories. A lullaby. Yeah, a lullaby that I have already heard somewhere. But no matter how hard I try, I can''t remember."

    Gazef could not help but think that despite her flushed face she still maintained the dignity of a strong and proud woman. "You must think me a fool, Sir. Stronoff," she drank a glass of water to calm herself. "It''s just that it was so ... intense."

    "I could never think of such a thing. Even I, in all honesty, was caught in emotion more than once during this ... unusual adventure," and, to tell the truth, he still was shaken. How had that great collective illusion been possible? No, it had been more than an illusion. He had really become, for that brief period, the protagonist of the story.

    What Morning experienced, Gazef experienced. What Morning felt, Gazef felt. At the end of the tale Morning''s happiness had been his happiness. "My opinion of you has not changed one iota."

    "Thank you, Sir Stronoff," she replied sincerely. "You really know how to talk to a woman."

    "No, on the contrary," his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. Still, doubt was lingering in the back of his mind. "More than once I was reprimanded for my outspokenness," Draudillon chuckled softly, as to imply ''I can''t believe this at all!''.

    "Though I wonder what kind of magic was used. I can''t call myself an expert, but no spell that would accomplish this result can be found in my memories."

    "I think I have an idea," she thought aloud, intent on collecting her assumptions. "But it''s just a guess at the moment."

    "Dear cousin, is there anything I can do for you?" The duke interjected himself into their conversation, visually concerned for his sovereign. "Seeing you in this state was a blow to the heart."

    "You have nothing to reproach yourself for. I am the one who should apologize for the inconvenience caused," Draudillon lowered her head in apology, provoking the quick reaction of the family member who tried hard to dissuade the Queen from making that inappropriate gesture. "Only, if it is possible, I would like to meet with our fantastic artist personally."

    "Oh, I''m sorry," it was now the man''s turn to try to apologize with various sallies that were nipped in the bud by the Queen. Funny how much time nobles wasted on silly labels. "When her manager," he said, pointing to the man who had assembled the crowd, "informed us that the Lady of Tales wanted to perform for the visiting Queen he also specified that her mistress would leave immediately after the performance. This clause could not be negotiated."

    Indeed, the Lady of Tales had disappeared before someone could even approach her. As if she never had been in that place.

    "Oh, what a pity," a pity indeed. It would have been interesting to have had a more in-depth conversation with that woman. "I didn''t think I would be so impressed by all this."

    People began to retreat to their homes, talking softly among themselves, as if they were aware that the noise would break the magic that had been created. In the warmth of their hearth, perhaps they would continue to dream as they were now.

    "I feel strange, captain," Iovino scratched his beard in thought. "My body is in perfect condition, indeed invigorated as it has ever been," his second felt his muscles, being amazed at their vigor. "Yet, I can''t best explain it, it''s as if part of me is now gone. Like losing something important that I didn''t even know I had."

    Gazef understood what his friend was feeling. A strong sense of bewilderment had taken hold of him ever since everything had returned to normal.

    Incomplete. That word fit his situation like a glove.

    But at the same time never had he been aware of himself like he was in that moment.

    "It must just be suggestions," he speculated. In any case, it would have been best to remain sharply alert. The reasoning that saw men like him only as unwilling tools did not belong to the hardened warrior. On the contrary, it was desirable for people in his position to be equipped with the initiative to carry out their tasks to the best of their ability. "Now let''s help the Queen. We still have a lot of work to do today."

    Slaine''s captain helped Queen Draudillon get up, receiving a smile as a token of gratitude.

    "Our next destination is the duke''s mansion," Draudillon strove to maintain perfect calm, but Gazef glimpsed the crackles in her mask. Out of respect for her, however, he pretended nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "I am sorry that you are struggling so hard for me today."

    "None of this is hard work for me and my men," he said, helping her into the carriage. "You order, we execute."

    "I was lucky to meet an honest knight like you, Sir Stronoff."

    "And I have been fortunate to serve someone as outstanding as you, Queen Draudillon."

    Gazef waved to the woman as the doors of the cabin closed.

    Silksuntecks

    When returning to a familiar place, there is always a fear that dwells within you.

    That everything has changed, that your memories are now just mere fantasies that are no longer matched by reality.

    Antilene and her retinue traveled along a small secret road that connected the heart of the capital of the Slaine Theocracy with the sacred citadel within it, where the Cathedrals dedicated to the Gods were located, in the dead of night. They left with the Cardinals just a few moments ago.

    How many times had she walked those dirt roads? Could someone remember a number so high?

    There were no differences from what her mind recalled, yet everything looked so alien. As if she had been away from those places for centuries, not weeks, and it was no longer possible to recognize them except through faded impressions.

    Because, in the end, she was the only one who had changed.

    Everything else had remained the same.

    "So these are the famous Cathedrals of the Theocracy," Etienne said, analyzing every smallest detail of the buildings before him. "Truly marvelous! Now I understand why the splendor of this city has become synonymous with magnificence!" The butler was enraptured by the beauty of the architectural works, and reluctantly admitted the difference with what he had been used to seeing in Crescent Lake.

    "Growing up in a fine place like this, no wonder Lady Antilene has become such an exceptional person!" Melody exclaimed aloud. The maid had tried to follow her mistress''s instructions during the trip and avoid overly exaggerated displays of adoration. She could not always follow orders, to Antilene''s chagrin. "I wonder what magnificent royal suite she grew up in!"

    ''Prepare to be disappointed," thought Antilene. Her apartament was certainly more furnished than average, but it remained modest when compared with the extravagance of the classic lodgings of the nobility. Hell, her father''s private rooms were far more luxurious than anywhere she had ever been.

    "Is something bothering you?" Agravaine asked her, as they walked through the door. The two servants followed the two women at a moderate distance, carrying their luggage. "You''ve been quiet the whole trip."

    "I was just thinking that when I was at Crescent Lake for the first time, I admired its beauty in amazement. And now those two," she pointed to Etienne and Melody behind her who couldn''t stop commenting on every little detail of the corridors they walked, "are doing the same with the Theocracy. I found it funny, that''s all."

    "I see. I guess it must be amusing to see our reactions," Agravaine moved her gaze from one point to another, moving from the large ornate stained-glass windows, the chandeliers casting a suffused light down to the concrete floor, scrutinizing every shadow, every crevice; fear that something might strike her from the darkness any moment evident on her face. "This place is quieter than usual. When I think that the same men I once hid from might lurk within these walls, I don''t know what to think. I certainly never thought I would come to this place. Not as a free woman."

    "There will only be a few followers left in the common rooms by now," Antilene explained listlessly, absentmindedly noticing the unease on her sister''s face. "You have nothing to worry about. Except for a few initiates in the common rooms, usually not many people pass through here. Why?" She lifted her thumb in a display of pride. "Because the place is under my watch!"Etienne and Melody began to applaud, but her sister remained impassive. Two out of three was not a bad result. "And I am sure the Cardinals will have arranged everything so that no one disturbs us."

    Indeed, in all the years she had been there, Antilene had never even seen someone who looked like an intruder.

    "Thank you," smoothing her hair to calm herself, Agravaine eased back. "That means a lot."

    Unlike the elf, both Etienne and Melody had found no time to get preoccupied, too busy recording as many small details as they could. The half-elf did not understand what was so special about that place. Had she perhaps lost her sense of wonder? Or had it never been there in the first place?

    "We have arrived," she walked slowly through the door to her room, finding the squeak the door made at her touch annoying. "I will sleep here. For the three of you there are some adjoining chambers. Please choose whichever one you prefer." The corridor where the half-elf''s small flat was located was part of a complex of modest dwellings, but more than enough to provide adequate accommodation. Although in all those years no one other than her had used it for more than a few hours.

    "May we then see the place where the Kingslayer grew up?" Melody''s eyes began to glow with intense, almost yearning, desire. Like an adorable fawn enchanting anyone with her cuteness. "Everyone in Crescent Lake will envy me knowing that I have set foot in this shrine of our savior!"

    Unfortunately, Antilene was an experienced huntress.

    "Yes, but we''ll talk in the morning," she nipped in the bud any claims they might make. "And, please make sure, I don''t want to be served in any way. That means no cooked breakfasts, help getting dressed, or any other idea you may think makes my existence easier," she had already had to make a superhuman effort during her brief stay in the Elf Capital to have a modicum of privacy. "I am perfectly capable of providing these things myself."

    When she thought back to the insistence with which the servants had tried to intrude into every part of her private life, the half-elf felt a shiver go up her spine. Exaggerating, facing her father had not been as terrible as that experience. "No compromises are accepted regarding my private life. Regarding this, I hope we understand each other!"

    "You have nothing to fear, Your Highness," Etienne replied on behalf of both of them. Knowing that the moment they had to perceive as sacred would only be postponed must have been reward enough for them. "We will abide by your orders as if our very lives depended on it."

    No need to be so extreme.

    "Perfect, then I bid you goodnight." Seeing the two servants walk away, Antilene thought that they were not so bad after all. Just a tad... eccentric. But eccentricity was very much at home in that place and her life.

    "Then I''ll be going," Agravaine also began to part from her, already on the threshold of the room she had chosen. "Are you sure you don''t need anything?"

    "Quite sure," she replied with conviction. "I just need to put a few things in order and then meet up with someone later. I''ll see you tomorrow morning."

    "Okay, but don''t hesitate to call me if you need anything," the elf started to close the port and then stopped in the middle. "Half-sister we are in blood, but whole sister I wish to be in your heart. I do not want divisions to arise between us. Do you promise?"

    Antilene was left astonished by those words. Astonished. And moved. "I promise," the smile she showed her indicated that this was a promise she would never break. An oath forged in newfound trust. "Goodnight!"

    "Goodnight!"

    After they had parted, the half-elf was finally able to enter her apartament.

    ''Not even the slightest trace of dirt. Despite my absence, everything has been kept to perfection.''

    Quickly she glanced around the house, as if searching for something she could not explain. Her attention fell on the little wooden soldier Nazaire had given her when she was a child.

    ''Has this toy always been so similar to my mother? Mother... I did it. Are you proud of me? Or has your hatred not subsided?''

    Heaven. Faine had managed to reach it and find peace? Or, on the contrary, had she sunk into the depths of hell?

    ''Will we see each other again one day?''

    Antilene put the toy back on the shelf from where she had taken it.

    She was no longer a child.

    The idealized figure she glimpsed in that carved wood was no more. Now the only thing that was left was ordinariness.

    That... and regret.

    ''Mother, I''m leaving. Don''t blame me; don''t miss me.''

    Until now she had been busy trying to recreate the past.

    But the time had come to build the future.

    In what direction was she actually going?

    After unpacking, she left the room with the Wind God''s armor, heading for the treasure room. Charon''s Guidance, her inseparable companion.

    She had almost reached the set destination, when a young man with long black hair stopped her.

    "Aeneas!" She exclaimed in surprise, not expecting that encounter. "What are you doing in this place? I thought you were stationed in the Draconic Kingdom."

    The young Black Scripture captain was not dressed in his usual armor, but in an elegant and well refined suit. He gave the impression of a businessman rather than a warrior.

    "The Black Scriptures returned a couple of days ago. The major cities have been conquered and the demi-humans exterminated. For now, the situation is stable and our intervention is required elsewhere," he explained, trying not to miss a single detail. His face was obviously fatigued, drops of sweat wetting his forehead like dew wets the grass. "Windstride has remained on the border with some of Surshana''s adepts and the Sunlight Scriptures. If there are any problems, we will be informed as soon as possible."

    Strange that Clementine had decided to stay in that place herself. One could tell that the Beastmen were adequate entertainment for her... cravings.

    Better these filthy beasts than humans, Antilene considered.

    "And why are you here? More importantly," the half-elf couldn''t help but notice the finery of the garments he was wearing. "Why are you dressed like that?" An unusual view for her, but probably the same didn''t apply to him.

    "One of the reasons I''m back is because a marriage meeting has been arranged with one of the Pontifex''s granddaughters. I tried to present my persona as better as possible but..." the defeat on his face was answer enough. Aeneas was a very good fighter, but as far as the fairer sex was concerned, he was still an inexperienced kid. "I like her, but I''m not sure I made a good impression. The conversation was rather dry and both of us were too embarrassed to speak a word." What was that situation of teens in love worthy of a cheap romance novel? "Another meeting has been arranged upon my return."

    Antilene drew a cross in the air, as an auspicious sign. Aeneas reciprocated with the same gesture.

    "Why do you have to travel again?" The life of heroes was one of constant sacrifice. Could be long in number of years, and many times not even that, but too short in time. "You have just returned."

    "It seems General Bulgari has been having trouble lately with some manticore and other such beasts used by the dune-riders," Antilene had only a vague idea of what was going on in the south of the Theocracy, the details covered by a cloud of fog. "I must leave as soon as possible or there is a risk of losing the advantage against the Diarchy. Ever since we had captured one of their kings, victory seemed to be assured. Astrologer, One Man Army and Shining Blade will come with me."

    Antilene did not envy Cassandra. Barely back and already ready to part again. In a certain way, in all these years the half-elf had received privileged treatment.

    "Then, I wish you good luck," she wished him wholeheartedly.

    "Thank you," he merely replied, troubled by something.

    "Now go, you can''t be too late. Tomorrow you have to wake up early."

    Aeneas remained silent.

    "What''s the matter with you?" She asked worriedly.

    He hugged her. Awkwardly.

    "The Cardinals have told me everything," he murmured through his teeth. "Who knows we''ll see each other again. I wanted to make sure I gave you proper greetings."

    "Stupid," she caressed his head as if she were a mother trying to calm her toddler. "You must be strong. Now it is you who must take my place. And I will return here many times. You will beg me on your knees to leave this place."

    Sometimes it was hard to remember, but the child from that time was still there. Hidden in the body of a proud young man, sure. But he never left.

    They slowly pulled away.

    "I expect to see this place swarming with brats the next time I''m here." Aeneas blushed in embarrassment. "Why that reaction? It''s an order by your direct superior! And try not to raise them as arrogant as you were as a child."

    "I will try to do my best. And just in case, you''d always be there to straighten them out," he joked. Antilene didn''t see what was funny but at least the atmosphere had returned jovial. "The Guardian Deity is waiting for you. I have stolen far too much of your time."

    "It was not stolen time. In fact, on rare occasions has it been so well spent."

    They greeted each other with a second, shorter but no less intense, embrace.

    Antilene entered the treasury room.

    Darkness engulfed her. Her eyes saw clearly.

    Silence courted her. But the ears were used to that invitation.

    ''There is no one there.''

    She placed the sacred armaments in their places. The legacy of the Gods the only present interlocutors.

    ''How do I stand, before you? Worthy of your praise or pale imitation of your tales?

    She had always thought of them as something unfathomable. A beacon that guided in the night, but whose light always appeared distant.

    Now would have she reached their location?

    "You have returned!" A familiar voice chased away the loneliness. The gloom took shape in a ghostly form. Red eyes looked at her. At first sight devoid of emotions, but hiding in reality profound sentiments. "I''m glad to see you''re alright."

    "Rufus!" Antilene clamped her mouth shut the very moment she realized how much her voice had risen at seeing her master again. Lowering the pitch, she continued. "I, too, am glad to see you. But where have you been? I did not sense your presence anywhere."

    "Let''s just say I had gone to visit some old friends," as if that grumpy old geezer could have acquaintances outside that place. He, for sure, was talking about his books "But let''s not think about that, you have a lot to tell me."

    "Sure, but first let me return you this," the diary that had been lent to her returned to the hands of its rightful holder.

    "I hope you enjoyed it," he said, tucking it back into one of the folds of his dark tunic.

    "It was very interesting. But now make yourself comfortable, for I have much to talk to you about."

    Antilene began to chronicle her adventures, taking care not to leave out even the smallest detail.

    Of how she had faced the elf army.

    The encounter with her siblings.

    The battle against Decem.

    And her out-of-the-ordinary ''coronation''.

    Now that she was speaking about it aloud, it was strange to think that all these things had happened so quickly. Events had followed one after the other, barely giving her time to reflect on them.

    "So Decem Hougan is dead after all," Rufus repeated at the end of that exhaustive explanation. "Faine will have finally got what she wanted. And so have you. How was the battle against your father?"

    "Difficult, but less than I had anticipated," Antilene unsheathed her trusty scythe. "I didn''t even have to use my trump card. For the first time I understood for real how valuable your teachings were. The king was not used to fighting," his shouting of rage still fresh in her mind. "The moment he was faced with an opponent on his level, he was totally out of his depth."

    Yet, even otherwise, the half-elf was confident enough that the outcome would not change. But she avoided airing her convictions so as not to appear too cocky.

    "Preparations are also a fundamental part of a confrontation. I''m satisfied that I managed to get it into your head after all these years,'' if it could have been possible for an undead, he would have puffed out his chest like a balloon. "And tell me, did you find anything interesting among the king''s spoils?"

    "No," she had to retort disappointedly. "His treasury was full of useful and valuable items, but they pale in comparison to what is in this room. Only my father''s personal equipment was valued equal to the relics in the treasury. The Cardinals will probably bring them here in the next few days."

    "Something troubles you," Rufus read the emotions of all the living with such clarity? Or was it only her own that was blatant? "I imagined I would see you jolt with excitement after having accomplished your dream."

    "It was never my wish, though I only recently realized it. From the beginning it had only been a debt to pay," people used to believe that birth was an event over which they had no control and so a right that couldn''t be compromised. And, although true, many times circumstances did not make it so easy. "To put it another way, the moment I came into the world my mother made me sign a contract to guarantee my survival,figuratively speaking, and now I have fulfilled the conditions. I am relieved to have lifted this burden, nothing more."

    Fortunately, no one would make her pay the accumulated interest.

    Rufus merely nodded his head. Antilene had the feeling he wanted to say something, but nothing was added.

    "You know, as I was preparing to kill the king, I had a kind of vision. Well, it was more a memory than anything else," she continued, when no reaction followed.

    "Oh, what did you see?" He asked curiously.

    "It was the two of us together, and you promised you would play for me forever."

    "Yes, I remember something like that," he lied. The undead was not the only one who had mastered the art of reading between the lines. However, the fact that he did not want to disappoint her made the half-elf quite happy. "Do you think it had any special meaning?"

    "Yes, I suppose part of me was still hesitant about killing my father. But it was at that moment that I came to understand how things truly were. That elf had never been my family. The closest thing to a father... it has always been you."

    She did not need to look at his face to predict his flustered reaction. The Guardian Deity had an unexpectedly cute side.

    "The same goes for me too," with a single rogue level Antilene had accomplished the impossible feat of stealing an undead''s heart. "What are you going to do now?"

    "I''m going to stay here for a while and finish the preparations," the mere thought already fatigued her, but what had to be done could not be put off. "Then I will head to the Baharuth Empire for the ball that has been arranged. I will use my new position to travel far and wide and look for clues of Decem''s past. There is so much about this world to discover!"

    "I don''t think I need to tell you, but you''ll always find a place to return to here," he paused to gather his thoughts, unsure whether to add that last part. "Just be very careful. The enemies are certainly not gone. Especially if a true dragon lord were to learn of your existence the situation could get... complicated."

    "I know," she said, thanking him for showing apprehension. Was that what it felt like to be appreciated? "I''ll try to keep a low profile. For now, my goal is to find out as much as I can about this region''s history. And to find a new goal in life. Something that is truly mine."

    "I wish you good luck," scarlet red as the sunrise emerged like fiery flames from his eyes. "Dear daughter."

    "I will miss this place," Antilene laid Charon''s Guidance in its place. "It will be hard to find another weapon to match you, my old friend."

    Rufus stopped her. "There will be no need," he laid his skeletal hands on hers. Against all-natural law, they were as warm to her as few things in the world. "Charon''s Guidance is yours. It could not be otherwise."

    "Are you really sure?"

    "Most definitely," he replied, the cracking sound of his bones more melodious than any other song. "It is now rightfully yours. The legacy of the Six Gods is represented by you, having proved yourself to be the perfect herald of their greatness. Lord Surshana lives once again in you, more than he did in all the other Godkin that walked this planet. I am sure he would agree with my views as well."

    Being compared to a God of Death was not the most gallant compliment a girl could have received.

    Antilene, however, knew Rufus like no other. She had seen him over the years, his back bent, taking care of every object there with the devotion of a saint and the love of a parent. His soul, if there was one, had all been reserved in that crystallized mausoleum in the past.

    To let Charon''s Guidance be taken away was a pledge of trust, and of affection.

    That way, even if apart, they would always be with each other.

    "Thank you, Rufus," the scythe shone with the starlight that gently seeped through the tiny windows, as if to reassure the half-elf that everything would be all right. "I will not forget all you have done for me. I will find a way to return my debt, I can assure you."

    "Live," words spoken long ago now gained meaning for the lone Deity. "That is the only thing I ask of you. Live to the fullest, with no regrets."

    "I will do my best."

    Antilene and Rufus crossed their little pinkies. That night a new pact was sealed.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Gazef Stronoff

    Fighter (9)

    Mercenary (3)

    Champion (4)

    Technical Master (6)

    Swordsman of will (5)

    Lagusa''s Blade Singer (2)

    Tot. 29

    The tricks of fate can change the existence of individuals with a simple throw of the dice. In another life, Gazef Stronoff distinguished himself as one of the greatest sword masters in the neighboring nations, finding service to a powerless king as his path. Here, however, things turned out differently. The class Lagusa''s Blade Singer acquired is proof of his oaths to the Fire Goddess. Will this valiant warrior be able to find what he seeks on his journey?

 Chapter 33: The Hearts filthy lesson

    Chapter 33

    The heart''s filthy lesson

    Draconic Kingdom

    The girl moved into the shadows, her black cloak the only friend in the empty roads. A lock of blond hair moved by the wind rested on her gaze.

    The streets were dark and dark was the starless sky. Like a snake slithering to assail its prey, the girl moved through the narrow alleys of the city of Zama.

    "Did you hear something?" A heavily armed man addressed his companion. The splendor of his spear shone like a guiding light.

    "Your imagination, as usual. Now let''s go or we''ll be late," replied the equally armed companion. A chainmail with the coat of arms of Count Fasil, lord of the city, embossed on it, was on full display. Almost as if to make the identity of the master clear and obvious to possible prying eyes. "The goods must cross the border by dawn. The meeting place is still far away and I don''t want to risk arriving late."

    The two men led a small convoy. Other guards were stationed at the end of it, while some of them could be heard confabulating in low voices inside the caravan.

    The girl followed them, step by step. In silence. The lightness of her movements was such that the dust rose belatedly from the ground, noticing only after she had left the gentleness of that touch.

    They came to a fork in the road. The men took the road to the left. The girl the one on the right.

    She climbed up one of the buildings, taking great care not to be discovered. A cat familiar with the architecture of those places could not have replicated her agile flicks. Hopping between the rooftops, she continued to blend into her surroundings. The black cloak became an extension of the night, a continuation of the darkness.

    Both the girl and the men reached one of the warehouses near the city walls when she heard a [Message] call out to her.

    "You all right, Clementine?" A raspy male voice asked. "You haven''t lost sight of the targets, have you?"

    "Don''t worry, they wouldn''t notice me even if I started screaming at the top of my lungs," she replied, still looking down. The guards had stopped to talk to another group who had joined them. "Looks like we found our golden goose," Clementine licked her lips, already anticipating the taste of battle. Feeling the stilettos she carried begging to be fed. "The smugglers stopped to talk to someone who seems important."

    Leading the second group, a knight in heavy armor had begun inspecting the goods in the wagons.

    "Count Fasil was right then," the voice became pensive, uncertain. "But I wonder what''s inside those wagons that''s so important. Bloody hillbillies, not even a few months have passed since they were freed from the Beastmen and already they''re stirring up trouble."

    "This is a job best suited to Wind Flower Scriptures like you, Lance," the targets had entered one of the surrounding buildings. Clementine descended to the ground to sneak in. "Of the internal affairs of this godforsaken place I couldn''t care less. Just pray to your God in the sky that this is a pleasant pastime, or I''ll have to find another way to make my stay in this dull place more¡­ enjoyable."

    For her part, Clementine was grateful that there was something to spend time with in those now-forgotten frontiers. A girl always had to be stimulated to be happy.

    "You will have a lot of fun, WindStride. I promise," but that sounded more like an appeasement rather than an honest statement. "Just try to leave someone alive to be interrogated later."

    "Alright," she huffed under her breath. For an idiot, Lance wasn''t that bad. Trying to please him would be mere courtesy. "Any more orders before I cease communication?"

    "Yes, don''t die."

    She did not laugh at the joke.

    The door through which the smugglers had entered remained closed. A couple of highly vigilant guards were checking to ensure that no one approached.

    If Heaven and Earth had been there, he would surely have found a way to sneak in. Perhaps with a sleeping dart or a poison that would render one unconscious. And the Captain would have endorsed a plan like that.

    Too boring. Not really in her style.

    Luckily, this was a solo mission. There was a reason they were her favorite ones.

    "Hey there," Clementine raised a hand for attention, flashing her most appealing smile. The two men wasted no time in raising their weapons, pointing them at her. "No need to be so hasty. I just want to have a chat."

    "Move away as soon as possible or we''ll have to..." the man who started speaking didn''t have time to finish his sentence when a stiletto slashed his throat. Blood fell like rain on Clementine''s head, who savored that offering as a divine blessing.

    To Hell with the Six Great Gods, her religion was made in pain.

    "I see you appreciated my greeting," Windstride said, licking the extracted blade. "I can see that it left you breathless. But you should learn to be more articulate if you want to impress a woman. Not that there will be time to do that in the place you are going."

    And dead flesh was the prayers she invoked. To be more precise, the prayers she made others rise to the heavens.

    "What the hell?" The second guard quickly shifted his gaze, looking first at her and then at his comrade, who was leaking vital fluids like a gushing fountain. His eyes met Clementine''s hungry jaguar ones.

    The man''s mind realized that up to that moment his life had followed a predetermined path, that someone more powerful than him, inscrutable in his plans, had arranged for him.

    His every action, his every thought, his every breath had been designed to arrive at that moment when a choice on which his future would be decreed depended.

    To fight and face certain death. Or flee in terror and have his life saved.

    The choice fell on the latter.

    What he got was the former.

    Free will was, in the end, merely an illusion.

    ''Boring!'' Clementine thought as she wiped the dirt off her stiletto. And those called themselves men? They hadn''t even lasted a second. Pathetic. A woman like her needed more than that to feel satisfied.

    She broke down the door, hoping that those whom she would find inside would finally satisfy her.

    The light was warm. Warm as the insides that were waiting for her. For her touch.

    The entire warehouse focused its attention on her as she crossed the threshold, dumbfounded by the daring entrance.

    Madness? Arrogance?

    Rather, confidence. And habit.

    "Who the hell are you?" The same knight from earlier asked. The armor he wore shone with a metallic light, emphasizing its value. Mythril, perhaps. The sword he wielded, on the other hand, was blunt and of very poor quality. "What happened to Marcel and Louis?"

    Clementine examined the scene unfolding before her, ignoring the question. The dead need no answers.

    To the right were four men, the same ones she had followed at the beginning of the mission, who had reacted to her sudden entrance by placing themselves at the protection of a funny little man who had pulled a strange, glowing sphere from the wagon.

    On the left, a woman with long red hair had opened an ancient-looking book from which she was reading spells aloud. A tunic on which the symbols of the Earth God were engraved waved thanks to the charge of energy released.

    In front of her stood a man with a large shield as a barrier. His face was covered by a closed-box helmet, which completely enveloped his head. No part of his body was left in contact with the outside world.

    Adventurers... or perhaps workers judging by the shady situation.

    No one would have regretted their disappearance. Was she not an agent of the Gods?

    The time had come to trace the divine design.

    "Dogon, kill this intruder," the little man ordered the knight. He was repulsive, his mouth as full as it had ever known the absence of food. Stubby legs that could barely support the weight of all that fat. Two small black eyes stopped on Clementine, savoring her form with lust. "No, on second thoughts, I changed my mind. Let her live..." he licked his lips already foretasting the taste of her flesh. "It would be a shame to let her go now."

    Clementine smiled.

    She lifted her cloak, revealing what was hidden inside. The knight, Dogon, was enveloped in a strange light as he began to lash out at her.

    Her collection would gain a new piece that day.

    Where to begin?

    The hunt began. The woman assumed a feline stance, preparing to sprint.

    "What?" When Dogon struck, only air was mowed down by his sword. He was on the verge of losing his balance as a recoil.

    Windstride had already gone elsewhere. The tip of the stiletto she had chosen headed towards the disgusting man. The moment Clementine approached she could feel his fear, so compact as to appear corporeal. But the hunt was at the start, and ending it immediately was not its purpose.

    "What do you want? Move away! Guards! Guards!" So close they could kiss.

    "Wasn''t that what you wanted? To make me yours?" She asked, noticing the spark of desire that ran through him like an electric shock. "Show me you weren''t just good with words."

    They drew closer. Their tongues began to touch and entwine. She could feel his arousal growing wildly. The moment the happiness peaked, there was nothing more pleasurable than tearing it away as if it were an ant to step on.

    She bit deeply into her meal. The taste of human flesh tickled her palate.

    "Ahhharg," the little man gibbered away from her in pain, incredulously touching the part of his mouth where his tongue had been until just now. He still could not accept what had happened, believing he had been the victim of a bad dream.

    But sometimes reality can be more cruel than any nightmare.

    Clementine spat out the piece of meat. The message had been sent. It was time for harvesting.

    Despite their lord''s incomprehensible gestures, the guards had no trouble grasping the meaning. They threw themselves on the Black Scripture member, while the mage from before hurried to him to cure him.

    Some believed that killing was an art. Clementine didn''t think otherwise. But her philosophy was much more incidental to the moment, rather than the manner in which one put a masterpiece into being.

    Elevating the taking of the life of another human being to a mere intellectual game deprived it of the intrinsic pleasure that the trampling upon it provided.

    The human body was the board, the blood and viscera the colors, the weapons that she wielded the brushes.

    Here, then, the four men gave her the perfect opportunity to put her mastery with the blade to the test once more.

    Improvement came from practice.

    In a moment of sublimation in which ills of dubious aesthetics appeared before her view just like the revelations of a saint, Clementine yearned for perfection.

    The four cardinal points were blocked. The spears closed every smallest possibility of escape as they approached. In a pure, grandiose moment that lasted centuries Clementine saw death approaching. But it was not there for her.

    She greeted her old friend in the only way she knew how.

    How many ways are there to inflict pain? Windstride''s purpose in life was to reach that limit, to get to the point where her quest would come to an end.

    At the moment, more than one could count had been discovered. But she was sure to still be a disciple when compared to the true masters. This was not a source of discouragement, but on the contrary a stimulus that always pushed her to improve.

    The enjoyment lay in the journey, not the destination.

    In all, five stilettos were with her. Using other -more valuable- instruments would not have been fair to the opponents who had forced her to do so in the past.

    Her heart ached, but those men would have had to settle for a mediocre death.

    She threw the first stiletto at the guard on her right, piercing his skull and brain. Splashes of disgusting liquid soiled the armor she wore.

    There was a beauty in that dead man''s expression. Before he fell to the ground his eyes seemed to have reached enlightenment, as if at the very moment his strength had left him a new discovery about existence had manifested itself. Too bad that discovery would never be shared.

    The human body was an inexhaustible mine of new sensations, begging like the poorest of beggars to be experienced.

    So the second stiletto cleaved the air.

    It penetrated the muscles of the right forearm of the nearest guard, digging its way into a path of spasms of pain and broken screams. If something could get in, then it was to be expected that it could also get out. The tip of the weapon breathed oxygen once more thanks to Clementine''s thrust as she drew from that penetration a wave of pleasure that moved her whole being. A tremor, indecisive and sizzling, spread through her body as she gave the magnificence of that ephemeral act the attention it deserved, before changing targets once again.

    The body twisted as the mind did, the lust for perversion unleashed demanding its due meal.

    With the third guard she let no weapons speak between them, only the naked heat of their bodies. Clementine''s nails sharpened, scratching like a wild animal at the guard''s exposed flesh. In that orgy of swift and precise contact, Windstride was the quiver running through the body, the breeze wounding the flesh. Starting from the forehead down to the chin, the skin was ripped off, the eyes torn open, the skull left exposed in its whiteness.

    Clementine didn''t just slay. She was revealing what the others inside were made of. The purest, most honest part of life. In that glow that could only be seen in the cruel transition from one state of existence to another she saw an unparalleled beauty.

    She licked her fingers still stained with that fresh blood, as another corpse added to the trail she had left behind. The taste of that liquid wet her lips, invigorating the west like the best elixir. A divine ambrosia that quenched all thirsts.

    In the grip of a mystical euphoria, she turned her attention to the last remaining guard.

    Language. Language was the answer. But not the one made of words, of sounds concealing the truth.

    Clementine loved lies, embodiment in their deception of all that was pure in this world. But at the same time no one was more honest than she. And nothing could be as blunt as the language the body spoke when it was in the grip of panic. Without unnecessary trappings that disfigured the intrinsic meaning of what thought processed, limbs were left free to move without the gray prison that was sanity.

    Insanity was the lock. Surshana the key.

    The key that allowed two people to truly understand each other to the core. She therefore reciprocated that display of honesty in the best way she knew how. What she carried was a simple message of salvation. Of true salvation.

    It was a game of give and take. To the fear that had been offered to her, she provided as a reciprocal gift the embrace of the beyond.

    She grazed with her weapon, extension of her will, the heart of the last survivor, feeling its slowly fading pulse. Pump, pump, pump. Until it grew fainter. Pump, pump, pump. Until it stopped beating forever.

    The absolute had been achieved!

    But the climax was far from being reached!

    "Damn you! Damn you! Who the fuck are you? Damn bitch I''ll kill you!" Dogon spat his contempt, his wrath at her. But they both knew she was not the one he was angry with.

    "Who am I?" She smiled kindly at him, sincerely. The one he despised was himself. His worthlessness, his weakness. Clementine knew it. And so did the knight. "Fool! Can''t you recognize Death when you see her? Pleased to meet you. Though I''m afraid we won''t see each other a second time."

    "Cut the crap and fight!"

    Only the puppies bark to try to intimidate the predators.

    Dogon had been deceived. But not by her. By that nonsense called ''numerical advantage''.

    He and his comrades had believed that lie that promised victory only by what was a simple mathematical figure. A number. A calculation. They knew the limitations of humans and believed that they suited everyone.

    And when those rules and formulas had been disregarded, the only reaction he had left to avoid sinking into deep madness had been to rail against her, almost as if she had been the cause of all his misfortunes.

    Clementine had known many like him. Caged by limited experiences that became laws of life carved in stone. She neither pitied nor hated him for it.

    "Step forward," she invited him in, opening her arms. Her tongue starched her lips in lust. "Let this be the most unforgettable night of your life!"

    And the last.

    "Help me, Kelos," his companion -the tank Clementine had seen moments before- stepped to the front. "Efen, keep the leader safe," Dogon ordered, addressing the only other woman in the room. This one continued to cast spells to prevent the disgusting little man from choking to death on his own blood.

    Windstride snapped. The knight readied himself to intercept her, as the tank raised its shield and stepped into their encounter.

    The tip of the stiletto slithered across the shield, producing sparks and a high-pitched screech that grated the eardrums of those present.

    A swipe of the legs. Clementine pushed off with her left foot to execute a lateral leap to the right, aiming for Kelos'' collarbone. The result of the second blow was no different from the first. Dogon took the sword with both hands, landing a blow from above. The blade barely grazed the head of the Black Scripture member, cutting just a few shards of hair.

    The knight continued to thrust. His rhythmless blows were met with the experience of a skilled assassin.

    Drogon''s hips strained to maintain that rhythm, his blows became slower, more imprecise. More like him.

    Useless.

    ''Let''s get this over with,'' Clementine thought, unfazed. ''The banquet is lasting too long and I am losing my hunger.''

    The woman gripped two stilettos, twirling them in her hands. Anticipating her assault, the tank was again between her and the knight.

    Clementine moved. More correct to say that was a leap that covered the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Kelos braced himself with the arrogance of having already once repelled the stiletto tip.

    Not realizing that Windstride had foreseen everything from the start. So trivially had events unfolded that she was disappointed to have only for a moment been able to conceive of a different outcome. An expectation that, unfortunately, shattered in mere seconds.

    No matter how much iron and steel someone might cover themselves with, the storm would still bring down everything in its path.

    There was a misconception that the coverings with which armor was to be produced for protection hampered movement, almost as if they sacrificed mobility for defense. But this was not entirely true, there was a flexibility in the materials used that made it not impossible for well-trained warriors to move nimbly without having to give up protection.

    There was always a catch, however. Clementine had already identified three points, one at shoulder height, one at the neck and of course one between the eyes, where it would be all too easy, almost trivial, to slip her touch.

    Which one to choose? Which one would inflict the most pain?

    She was already behind her target. Dogon had tried to hit her again, but his movements were so predictable that Clementine could almost have avoided the trouble of dodging them.

    Swish.

    The tip of the stiletto pierced into her shoulder, first finding its own way between the joints protected by the knitted glue, then passing through the rings of it thanks to the thrust of the woman''s superhuman strength. Then it reached the muscles, lacerating veins and arteries, crumbling bones and staining itself with the very essence of the man. Suffering erupted with a roar of pain.

    Clementine tasted it, so close she could feel it, touch it.

    Dogon had to watch as his companion collapsed lifelessly to the ground, while the feeling that the Black Scripture woman had so longed for finally dawned in his eyes.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The same as a hunter who, blinded by pride and lust for riches, had set out to hunt a rare animal, relying on his skills to get rich easily, until he met the true beast who, since the start, had been tailing his every move.

    For Clementine had another weapon with her, one who couldn''t be clearly seen or perceived until it was too late. But that, nevertheless, never left her side.

    Dread and despair. Creeping in the back of the minds of her victims, slowly gaining momentum.

    "AHHHHH," Dogon let out a final, hopeless battle cry as he tried to strike her again. Perhaps, in his heart, he believed that if he could at least graze her, a new chance to overturn the desperate situation would have appeared.

    A miracle, as it was called.

    Clementine blinded him with a quick slash of her stiletto. Then, almost as if she wanted to acknowledge his valor, she brandished Sins Eater, the saber she had inherited from the Gods, and pierced his chest. The pitch blackness of the blade was an intense, deep, shining black abyss of death that sucked all the light in the room to itself, encompassed in that harbinger of despair.

    The heat of their bodies joined in a whirlwind of intense and profound emotions that revealed under their masks. Clementine caressed his cheek as she admired the life fleeing from the small eyes begging for mercy. In that fleeting instant, she felt whole.

    "I am not paid enough for all this!" The woman, Efes, seeing the end her companions had come upon, began to trudge towards the exit. Their employer could barely keep his senses.

    ''A worm.''

    Disappointment.

    That was what Clementine felt when she severed her right leg so that she could not escape. A survivor had been promised after all.

    "Heal yourself!" She ordered. It would have been a problem if the magic caster had bled to death like that.

    Instead, the moans of pain she was emitting akin to a slaughtered pig were brought to an end with a sharp punch to the sternum, which knocked the woman unconscious.

    "And now, let us come to us! We have so much time ahead of us! I don''t know which part of the body I should start with," she said, addressing the little man. "The belly? The teeth? Your manhood?" Then she lit up, with the same expression that appears on the face of one who succeeds in solving a problem that has long plagued him. "I''ve got it! The nails! We''ll start with those!"

    The little man gave all his strength, Clementine could see not without some amusement that his legs were wobbling in a shaky motion to get up. He again had the sphere he had been carefully inspecting just before.

    He lifted it into the air, still mute from the devilish kiss he had received, as a pale light began to come out of it.

    "This could be trouble," most of all Clementine knew how dangerous certain magical objects could be. Little matter, she would have to put it off for another time.

    Except that something strange happened.

    Actually, it would be better to say that nothing happened at all.

    The disbelief in the little man''s eyes was answer enough that something had not gone as it should have.

    "We were lucky," Clementine said, returning to her previous carefree attitude. ''It would have been unfortunate if they had interrupted our date, don''t you think? What, why are you being like this? You don''t need to get so worked up. I will take care to comply with your every wish¡­ So, let''s begin."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The next morning, while she was waiting at the appointed meeting place with Lance, Clementine still felt fatigued from the sleepless night.

    They had put in far too much effort, the woman admitted to herself.

    ''But the worst part was definitely getting the woman and all this stuff to the shelter.''

    She was currently staying in a suite at one of the city''s most acclaimed inns. And as chance would have it, given the relatively short new opening, the Black Scripture member was the only guest.

    That reassuring solitude wouldn''t last much longer, as she would be on the road in a matter of days, so Clementine had decided to enjoy it to the fullest.

    "I''m coming in," Lance split the minute. Were all the members of the Windflower Scripture so precise, or was it her partner who was so boring? "So, is everything in order?"

    Clementine pointed to the woman tied to a chair in the room, still unconscious. Next to her was a small table on which two bundles had been placed.

    "Shouldn''t there have been only one?" The man asked. His thin eyes could not help but continue to inspect the room fuelled by incessant paranoia. "That magic object you found should be in here, right?"

    "Ohh, just a little present. Don''t be afraid, I prepared a special surprise just for you. Be grateful! Go ahead, open one," she urged him, unable to help but sport a deafening grin.

    Lance''s small, delicate hands, which would have made a girl from a good family envious, grazed the first of those packets. The man''s elongated face lost color when he saw the contents of what the first one concealed.

    "This is a human head..." he was visually nauseated, but his professionalism showed in keeping, as much as possible, a cool head. "Wait... I recognise it. Yes, it''s the count''s brother. Was he the instigator?"

    "Ohhh," Clementine emitted a little cry of surprise, not expecting the revelation. "And that''s important?"

    "Well, at least now the count will owe us a favor," Lance said, putting his head back in the bundle. "Making our tracks disappear in the area will be easier once he knows we foiled a revolt. Even if you left a nice little souvenir for those who had to clean up the place. It wasn''t easy, you know. From what the others told me, you left quite a mess in there. I wonder why they didn''t report a body found without a head."

    "I don''t think they noticed all that blood. You know, there wasn''t much of his body left when I finished with him," she replied, dispelling his doubts. The disgusted expression he gave her was reward enough for a job well done. ''Don''t you think it''s about time you told me how many other officers there are in the city? So that next time I can be more... gentle."

    "I don''t think that''s possible. You''ll have to make do with me as long as you''re here."

    Expecting otherwise would have been foolish, but at this point Clementine hoped they would give her a little more credit. Hadn''t she deserved it after all?

    "Hum, how much longer do I have to stay in this hole?" Not that she minded, to be truly honest. Away from civilization she could more easily give rise to certain¡­ impulses.

    "I don''t know exactly but it shouldn''t be long," he began to open the second bundle, this time finding what he expected. The orb from the night before. "Just a few weeks. A couple of months, tops. The Sunlight Scriptures will also be returning shortly, and I wouldn''t be surprised if you were called back with them. Just long enough to know that things are stable here."

    Clementine adjusted the sleeves of the dressing gown she was wearing, which were too long for her. "So what? What''s so special about that orb?"

    Lance examined it thoroughly. Then, huffing, he slumped it to the ground. The orb broke into a thousand pieces.

    "Parcel," he laughed disappointedly. "The only thing special about it was its ability to emit a strange light."

    "You mean all this was made for a... light bulb?"

    "Exactly," Lance replied. "Oh, a very classy one. If sold to some junk dealer you could make a nice amount of copper coins out of it. I almost feel sorry for the brother. Probably he thought he had his hands on some ancient artifact that would make him gain power¡­ well, better this way."

    Clementine shared a laugh with her companion, thinking about the transience of life.

    Some died in pursuit of great ideals, others to protect what was dear to them.

    Some... for a light bulb.

    A fitting ending for a worthless existence.

    "And what shall we do with her?" From that story the only thing they got out of it was the prisoner resting blissfully, unaware that her fate was about to be decided at that very moment.

    "How would you assess her abilities?" Asked Lance, unsure of the situation.

    Wasn''t the Theocracy a wonderful place? Every crime could be forgiven by the Gods.

    As long as the criminal had value to exploit, that is.

    "Mediocre would have been paying her a compliment. A spellcaster who can''t get past the first tier. Iron rank, to be generous. Very generous."

    The woman''s life depended on her. Lying would have been an affront to her unconscious trust!

    "I understand. Maybe she could be useful for something. She''s also missing a leg... No. I''ll let someone else take care of it. Maybe she can give us more information regarding the origin of this scam. If it isn''t an isolated case, should be investigated."

    Despite his puny physique, Lance put the woman on his shoulders, in no way bearing her weight.

    "I will be in touch as soon as possible. In the meantime, try not to kill anyone," he advised. Then, as if he could read her mind, he added: "Especially not me."

    Clementine crossed her legs, letting the man see her bare skin, looking for any reaction, which unfortunately did not come.

    "Lance, you should know. I kill because it''s fun. And killing you would not be fun."

    At least, for now.

    E-Rantel

    The streets were crowded. Far too crowded. A continuous coming and going of people, a flood of unfamiliar faces and physiognomies all too similar. The twilight of dawn was beginning to break on the horizon, and men and women headed for their homes after a hard day''s work.

    The carriage moved along a strangely well-maintained street, jolting at irregular intervals from a collision with some raised stone or an unfilled pothole.

    Antilene looked out the window of her cab, with a bored air. They had only left the Theocracy a few days ago, but she was already homesick.

    "So this is this E-Rantel. Maybe a bit too provincial, but otherwise not bad at all. I wonder how much longer for the mayor''s estate," she asked no one in particular, as the people she shared the carriage with were even less informed than her. "Well, I hope it''s at least a nice place."

    "I didn''t think the lord of the city would invite us as soon as he heard of our passage," Agravaine said, intent on scribbling various notes in a small notebook. The intention was to immortalize in those cards the passing of daily life in that place.

    "Compared to Theocracy, this place is much more... ordinary. There is a simple, almost bucolic feel to life. In some ways it reminds me of home."

    "The Kingdom of Re-Estize has always been rather backward from what I heard. I think the Cardinals had plans to have it absorbed by the Baharuth Empire but I never looked into it. Nonetheless, it is still a kingdom with almost two hundred years of history. I''m sure some of the stories are just exaggerated slander," the daily routine, at least from what she could observe, flowed peacefully. An existence which could have been envied by many for its peace. "To judge is always to use one''s own eyes rather than stick solely to the words of others."

    "It''s just strange to think that many of these human nations are younger than me," her sister mused aloud. "I wonder what our countrymen think about it. They have seen in what was for them a blink of an eye so many changes. Etienne is old enough, perhaps we should ask him if he remembers anything."

    The butler was currently driving the carriage outside and didn''t seem to have heard them, concentrating on his task.

    "I don''t think Mr Etienne knows much. To my knowledge, he never left the forest of Evasha," Melody interjected. The maid was sitting by Agravaine''s side, intent on peeling an apple, which she then bit into with relish. "He''s one of those old-fashioned elves who never took an interest in what was going on on the outside. He asked me many times to be educated about the neighboring nations, so as not to embarrass you, Lady Antilene."

    "Does the same apply to you, Melody?" The clear inflection of a question came from Antilene.

    "Nono, I was always interested in everything beyond Crescent Lake," the young elf''s usually jovial face darkened. "It was a way to take my mind off everything going on around me. My father, may the gods rest his soul, was executed after dropping one of the king''s favorite fruits. My mother, a palace attendant, offered herself as an exchange to save me from what would normally be expected of a young woman in childbearing age. In all, I had ten half-brothers. Of these, I think only one is now alive."

    "And what about your mother?" Agravaine looked particularly shaken. Some things you never get used to.

    "She died in childbirth¡­" A pause that felt like a prayer. "But that''s in the past now. If it hadn''t been for Lady Antilene, I probably would have suffered the same fate. That''s why I''m so grateful to her!"

    Melody returned to her usual delighted tone, spotting a warming smile.

    "I see..." Antilene realized that her enthusiasm was an affirmation. A way of telling the whole world ''look at me, I survived. And I am thankful for that.''

    The strong towered over the weak. It was an immutable truth of the world.

    But that did not mean that the weak could not rebel, in their own way.

    Not bowing to despondency and despair, even when there was every reason to do so, showed a strength of spirit that not everyone possessed.

    Perhaps not even her.

    "We have arrived."

    Etienne opened the carriage door, helping the women inside to disembark.

    When they arrived, an impressive building appeared before them. But the servants who greeted them let them into an estate next to it. Luxurious, but it paled next to what they had just seen.

    "They explained to me that the palace just now is reserved for the royal family," Etienne opened the line of their small group, mingling perfectly with the other retainers of the lord of the estate. "This is instead the mayor''s personal residence. I don''t think we should wait long to be received."

    And, in fact, that was exactly what happened. After being shown into a comfortable living room where food and drink to suit all tastes were offered, Antilene, together with Agravaine, was ushered into the mayor''s office.

    A man more like a large pig greeted them. His body was stocky and fat, the buttons of the white shirt he wore seemed to beg for mercy as they strained to hold the fabric together. The few white hairs on an otherwise bald head were so thin they reflected the light. He stood with the aid of a walking cane on which a precious gem sparkled at the apex.

    "Welcome, welcome. I am Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance," thin fox eyes opened to greet them with round black irises. "You must be the famous Lady Antilene of whom so much has been said lately. Please, feel at home in my humble abode."

    He bowed -or more correctly tried to - but the result was more comical than respectful. Nevertheless, Antilene returned the greeting with the utmost courtesy.

    "Please, be seated," with the help of the maids and butlers that were accompanying him, he invited them to a set table, where whatever dishes the human mind could imagine were to be found. Cheese, meat, bread, ham, but also sweets, fruit, even ice cream stored in bowls. "I haven''t eaten dinner yet, and I was hoping you would join me."

    "Very willingly," Antilene found no good reason to refuse, though she was not entirely convinced. "The journey has been long and we are hungry. It will be the perfect occasion for you to explain why you requested our presence."

    "Soon said, curiosity." Was the quick response.

    When they were seated at the table, the mayor began gobbling up the food like a black hole, leaving poor Agravaine quite disgusted as she tried to look away.

    "I couldn''t pass up the chance to meet the personality of the moment. If you excuse my audacity, your beauty is beyond this world," he continued, leaving his mouth open between mouthfuls. "I hope this humble town is to your liking. I am aware that compared to the richness of the Theocracy we are still many steps behind."

    Antilene, unlike her sister, kept her attention fixed on her interlocutor. Ever since she had entered, a battle had begun. The half-elf did not consider herself an expert in political intrigue, but was well trained in the arts of war.

    ''The less your enemy can read your intentions, the less easy it will be for him to understand your next move.''

    The first blow had been thrown, now her reaction would dictate the continuation of the conversation.

    "You have nothing to complain about, Lord Rettenmaier," and so the elf queen did as much as she could to stare him in the eye. "The city is enchanting. Order and prosperity prevail. One can see that it has been guided by an enlightened mind."

    Panalosei paused, having carefully observed her. If before he seemed intent on going on a marathon binge, he now kept away from food as if it were festering.

    "You do me too much honor, Lady Antilene," the tone became more relaxed as the shimmer shone with honesty. If the nobleman had tested her to see how she would behave in the face of such rudeness, Antilene was pretty sure she had passed. "I cherish this city, almost as if it were one of my own children. And I treat it as such. In seeing it shine I experience a feeling that only a parent can have."

    The half-elf poured herself a glass of blueberry juice as she asked another question. "Tell me, are the stories of corruption I have heard so much about this kingdom true?" She couldn''t restrain herself, not without a hint of impertinence. But diplomatic games did not suit her outspoken temperament. "A plague has spread so far that the only recommended medicine is amputation. That''s how it was described to me."

    "That seems far too extreme a measure," Parasolei''s brow furrowed. Embarrassment at such a delicate question leaked out like a flaming geyser. "Is there a problem with corruption? Yes, absolutely. Does that mean that solutions are not being made to solve it? That would not be the correct answer. Do I think it could be done better? I cannot deny it, but I realize it is not that simple."

    In a discourse infused with far too much political rhetoric, the lord of E-Rantel seemed to answer every imaginable question, but without providing adequate information, only general observations. A speech exquisitely full of nothing, she would have described it.

    "What is certain is that any help that can be given to this country would be useful. On the contrary," he added, lowering the volume of his voice, so as not to be spied on by prying ears. "Any new enemy could prove detrimental to our well-being. I don''t know if you understand me. Rapacious hands have set their claws on these territories and if more of them were to be added, it would be very, very problematic."

    The allusions were all too clear. At least, they explained why Antilene had been personally invited.

    "For the time being, I can wholeheartedly assure you, Lord Rettenmaier, that my intentions conceal no ulterior motive," already being a queen was far too exhausting. Let alone a queen with alliances! "I intend to go to the ball only to make my debut in high society and to show that no one has anything to fear from Crescent Lake. If nothing else, I want to have friendly relations with everyone, without necessarily having to take sides."

    Panalosei had one of the maids in the room pass him a napkin and, after slowly wiping his mouth, muttered under his breath, "I see." They remained silent for a few seconds until, awakened by a sudden urge to make that absence of sound cease, the nobleman began to speak quickly, as fast as lightning. "E-Rantel is one of the most important trading centers in the region. The markets of three major nations such as Theocracy, Re-Estize and Baharuth converge here. Securing licenses for one''s products is, if not necessary, highly recommended. Our plans and tariffs include..."

    He continued to rattle off millions of pieces of information per second, the nobleman replaced by a salesman doing his best to extol the praises of his product, the meaning of which was not entirely clear and precise to Antilene. So the half-elf let Agravaine take note of everything.

    "This is all very interesting," she distorted the truth. After all, it wasn''t quite a lie that she could claim to be intrigued in that talk, even if the means to understand it were not provided by her education. "But these matters would be better discussed in more appropriate places, don''t you think?"

    "You''re right, I''m sorry for the unfortunate waste of time," he apologized, lowering his head, this time in a gesture of marked elegance. "I love this city so much that it is impossible for me to stop talking about it when the wheels of my brain start turning. I have been looking after it for more than thirty years and affection sometimes takes over from reason."

    Antilene dispelled his fears with a wave of her hand. "Your hospitality has been all too egregious, Lord Retteinmaier. And it is a good thing that those who attend to the affairs of state do so moved by sincere interest. I am sure there are many interesting stories you have to tell about this place."

    The man''s face lit up, moved by that request. "But of course," Pride that could not be held back by the words. After having rinsed his mouth with red wine poured into a silver cup, he said, "E-Rantel is rich not only in currency, but also in culture. Although we do not have much evidence left, it is almost certain that its origins date back to the time when these territories were part of a single, large empire that stretched from the inland areas of what is now known as Argland Council State to the union of city states."

    "The so-called Red Empire," Agravaine recalled, seized by renewed curiosity. "There were many documents in the Theocracy that spoke of it, though they always remained vague."

    Antilene agreed with what her sister had said. She had also read about it, but her knowledge remained meager.

    "The Red Empire was one of its names. But it was also known as the Empire of Voiaselfon, an ancient word whose meaning could be translated as ''Fertile Land''. Unfortunately, what we know of before the advent of the Evil Deities are only echoes of a past that has left us," sighed the lord of E-Rantel painfully aware of the precious knowledge lost forever. "The current ruling family of Re-Estize boasts descendants from that very royal lineage, although many historians doubt that it is a main branch. It has to be said that a large part of the royal family was exterminated by the wicked Belialo, Evil Deity of Rapture, and famous adversary of the Dark Knight. So the claims could not be entirely out of the air."

    "It is indeed a pity that no other sources have come to us to study," exclaimed the half-elf, now increasingly fascinated. "I am very interested in the legends of these places. Should you have any interesting stories to share, please don''t be timid to do it with us."

    "I have one."

    Panalosei stood up with the aid of a staff and one of his aides. Using small, measured steps, he walked towards a shelf at the far right of the room where various texts, some very old, had been placed.

    He took one of them, quickly checking its contents to determine that it was the right one. "This history dates back to shortly after the founding of the city," he flipped through the pages to aid his memory. "As it still is today, these territories had never known great danger. Life proceeded calmly, save for the occasional incursion of monsters and hostile races here and there, but nothing the local adventurers didn''t know how to fend off."

    "But then something happened that disturbed that peace," Agravaine retorted. "It always happens like that in events like this."

    The mayor of E-Rantel nodded, continuing with the narration. "Indeed, one day in the Tob Forest one of the creatures that inhabited the place began to attack the neighboring villages. Horax, it was called. An insect whose legs were innumerable and equipped with sharp claws and whose carapace seemed to be harder than diamond, besides making magic all but useless. This one was also remarkably big even compared to the other similar ones of its species. Many nearby villages were destroyed in its wake, and the teams of adventurers sent to eliminate it never returned."

    He paused, as if the weight of those past lives had still been a burden to bear. Panalosei had not even been born at the time of those sad events, but such was his connection to the city he defended that he considered its history, his history.

    "The king himself at the time organized an army to oppose him. But you have to understand that in those years the monarchy was still weak, as there were numerous pretenders to the throne, the claims on these territories only just advanced and cohesion was still a work in progress. Nevertheless, the ruler marched with his retinue to the last, deep in the forest. They killed the beast and returned triumphant, suffering very few losses. The victory allowed the king to increase the confidence in his military might to the subjects and secure the support of many vassals, making it easier to consolidate the power of the Vaiself dynasty."

    "It must have been a really good army if they managed to go into that forest and come back almost intact," Antilene stated in admiration. The Theocracy itself exercised a great deal of caution when it came to delving into the deeper recesses of that place, as far as she could remember. "No wonder it was so easy for the first king to beat the competition after that amazing feat."

    "Yes, but you see there is more," before he could finish, there was a knock at the door. "Oh, this should be the other guest I was expecting. I hope you don''t mind, Lady Antilene, but this is the daughter of a dear friend of mine who had begged me to do her the courtesy of introducing you. If I have your approval, I would have her enter."

    "No problem." Responded the half-elf. "I would be glad to meet someone you have in high regard."

    The maid opened the door, from which a girl with a toned, slender physique and long blond hair entered. She wore a long elegant pink dress, but sober in its simplicity. A small blue rose ornament adorned the silky golden buds on her head, adding further whiteness to the features of her fierce and upright face.

    "May I come in?" She asked as she crossed the threshold. "I hope I''m not disturbing you."

    "No, please come in," Panalosei reassured her, receiving a warm smile in thanks. Then, without wasting any more time, he made the introductions. "Lady Antilene, this is Lady Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra, daughter of one of the most respectable noble families in Re-Estize and head of the Blue Rose, one of the two adamantium teams in the entire nation."

    "Pleased to meet you!" Lakyus held out her hand to the half-elf, who shook it in return. Antilene''s face was mirrored in pools of dark green eyes, overflowing with passionate fire. "It is indeed an honor to make the acquaintance of the famous KingSlayer! I have heard much about you."

    "And so have I," the grip was firm and sure, but devoid of violent intent. A control of force that only those who had made the sword their path could master. Worthy of those who could claim the title of hero. "The deeds of the Blue Rose reached even into the innermost recesses of the Theocracy. If humanity is safe there, it is also thanks to you and your team."

    "Ahahahah," Lakyus'' laugh was sincere and deep, devoid of malice. "We are just four girls trying to do our best. Your words are simultaneously a source of embarrassment and pride, and for that I say thank you."

    After also introducing herself to Agravaine, she walked towards the lord of E-Rantel to give him her greetings. "Lord Rottenmaier, I offer my apologies to both you and your guest for my rudeness."

    "You have nothing to apologize for, Lady Aindra. In fact, you came at exactly the right time. I was just now recounting the strange events that affected E-Rantel at the dawn of its birth."

    "''A story you have not yet finished, Lord Rottenmaier," the half-elf said with all too much eagerness. Although her attention had been caught by the newcomer, Antilene had not forgotten that the ending had yet to be told. "You had reached the point where the royal army had killed the Horax."

    "Oh, I know that story too," Lakyus'' face lit up, turning radiant. "Are you talking about the legend of the mysterious knight?"

    "What legend?" Agravaine asked doubtfully.

    Panalosei pointed to the book in his hand. "This is a precious find, preserved in only a few copies in this city. It is an account by one of the soldiers of the expedition, which gives a different version than the traditional one. A version that has not always been looked upon favorably by the official historians of the Re-Estize Kingdom."

    "Yeah," Lakyus confirmed, joining her lips in a friendly smirk. "When I was a child it was considered as the same as baseless rubbish. It was regarded as unreliable, given the high level of illiteracy at the time. That a mere conscript could write a travelog was unthinkable! To many, it was just an attempt at discrediting orchestrated by a political opponent. But after years of being an adventurer, I became convinced that there was a glimmer of truth."

    "''So, what is this all about?" Having reached that point, Antilene felt as if she had been offered a cake of which they had only offered the smell, without letting her taste it.

    "''Apparently," Panalosei''s voice became as clear and precise as the clock hanging on the wall. "in the forest of Tob there was no battle with the monster. Or to be more precise, there was a battle. But not between the royal army and the Horax, but between the latter and an unknown third party. When the first king''s forces arrived, all they found was the corpse of the beast and, according to this account, a white knight in celestial armor," the noble paused, to gauge the reaction of his interlocutors. When he saw that attention was at a maximum, the tale could resume: "the knight is described as a celestial angel, cloaked in a radiant light like that of Paradise. But the most fascinating thing was his weapon. A pitch-black scythe, which looked as if it had come out of the depths of hell. A neat contrast, which increased the fascination for this character."

    Agravaine''s eyes squinted in astonishment. She wanted to say something, but before there was a chance to do so, she was blocked by Antilene.

    "This is truly incredible! In fact, that''s not a weapon you see every day," the half-elf held back her agitation. She too seemed troubled by something, but maintained a calmness enviable even by the most ascetic of monks. "Do you have any idea what the identity of this mysterious stranger might be?"

    "I always thought it was some fallen angel," Lakyus replied, clenching her fists in a fit of emotion. "Or an envoy of the Gods sent for the protection from all that is as protection from all that is loathsome and abhorrent! There are so many inexplicable things in this world, but just because we ignore the cause today, it doesn''t mean we can''t one day discover it! Human beings were not put on this earth by the Gods to live like brutes, but to follow virtue and knowledge. Do you not think the same, Lady Antilene?" The very existence of something mysterious increased the Blue Rose leader''s thirst for adventure so much that his fervor seemed to have inflamed the room itself.

    "It is a thought I fully share," only then did the half-elf notice that the girl wore a small pendant around her neck on which was engraved a symbol of the Water God''s crest, different in composition from the one she was used to. "Now, Lord Rotteinmaier, please excuse us, but we would prefer to retire to our rooms. It has been a long journey and we will have to set out early in the morning. Lady Lakyus, it has been an honor."

    "Likewise for me," for a moment a shadow covered the girl''s face, only to be quickly replaced by an amicable grin. "But I am sure we will see each other again soon, Lady Antilene! The same goes for you, Lady Agravaine."

    As the two sisters made their way to their rooms, Agravaine externalized the doubts that had risen to her heart.

    "That description... It could only be you."

    "I remind you that at the time I was either not yet born or too young to go into battle. But don''t worry, I know who it was. There is no other explanation."

    "Who?"

    "I will tell you another day. Now, I just want to rest."

    That night Antilene''s sleep was calm and peaceful.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Clementine Hazeia Quintia

    Fighter (7)

    Weapon Master (9)

    Rogue (1)

    Assassin (4)

    Executioner (8)

    Deadly Blade (5)

    Tot. 34

    Despite no one denying her abilities, Clementine is undoubtedly the most problematic member of Black Scripture.

    Her perversion and the pleasure she takes in inflicting as much suffering as possible, not only on demi-humans, make her particularly unpleasant even to her comrades, who are certainly accustomed to even the most unpleasant spectacles.

    Her parents seem to have neglected her, preferring to focus their attention on her brother Quaiesse. Will this be what has made her character so unmanageable? Or has there always been something rotten inside?

    In Latin, ironically, Clementine''s name means "mild" or "merciful."

 Chapter 34: Propose under the starry sky

    Chapter 34

    Proposal under the starry sky

    Argland Council State

    Keno strolled through the city streets of Lasierasia. Even if she was not in a hurry, arriving on time was a fixation she could not shake off.

    Great fatigue enveloped her. Given her condition, a reflection of the psyche rather than the body.

    A man with feline features walked past her, sliding a large number of hairs from his fur over her.

    Keno passed him, pretending nothing had happened. After silently using [Clean] magic, she was dumbfounded about how much that part of town seemed to hate her.

    ''But I suppose we couldn''t choose any other place to meet. With the bustle of people on the main street, we don''t run the risk of being too conspicuous.''

    "Hey, miss, can I steal you for just a moment?" A friendly-looking merman approached her for a second. He was carrying a large number of flyers with him, all depicting the same subject. "You''re a human aren''t you? The mask is not enough to hide from these eyes of mine," and he pointed to the teal green pupils that seemed to conceal the color of the sea within them. "I work for Mr Gorgola''s campaign. Even a vote can help."

    Normally, she would have avoided that clumsy campaign attempt without a second thought, but this time the vampire found herself intrigued.

    "I thought the human representative was Ms Mikelana," she said, looking at the flier she was offered. At the center was depicted a not-too-young man with short gray hair and a cunning look. "And it is still a few years before there are new elections."

    Races of all kinds passed by them. From simple humans and elves, to bearmen and lionmen to eye-catching heteromorphs whose appearance was bizarre crosses of various biologies. The road they were walking on had three carriageways, one for the ground creatures, one reserved for the flying ones to make emergency landings and one equipped with small pools filled with water for the amphibians to refresh themselves.

    At the moment, Keno and his interlocutor were on the first one.

    "Haven''t you heard?" The scaly face changed to an expression of surprise. "Ms Mikelana retired from the position a few weeks ago. Nothing serious, it seems. Standing to official statements she just felt too old to continue with her duties. Although gossips insinuate that it was just something else that dictated the choice after the latest... events. Extraordinary elections have been arranged to find a replacement."

    Indeed, Keno had been missing from Argland for a long time. A couple of months, if she had done her math right. That also explained why a demi-human was working for a human. Probably, that Mr. Gorgola had enlisted the help of some renowned agency for his campaign, without having to fear sabotage dictated by personal interests.

    "Are you referring to the KingSlayer? Is it out of fear that Mikelana resigned?"

    The merman brought a finger to his mouth, to signal her to shut up.

    "Shhh... don''t say that name out loud!" After checking that no one had noticed them, he continued. "The boss thinks it''s all nonsense. But a public representative quitting means new elections. And new elections mean new business for us. So, will you think about casting your vote for our candidate?"

    "I promise I will think about it. I might be more enticed if you could tell me something. You seem like a big talker and I have never been here in this town," she lied. Peering outside the mask she wore, Keno could see the publicist struggling to hide the skepticism. "I come from the east, along the Lake Fastela area. I have never come here to the south and I don''t know what the situation is around here."

    He did not believe her for a moment, but turned a deaf ear. The round gift that Keno discreetly placed on his hand alleviated any possible hesitation.

    "So far so good, but there is a palpable tension in the air, almost suffocating. People are trying to carry on as if nothing is wrong, striving to go on as usual," he replied, growing gloomy for a moment. "But we know that if war with the Theocracy breaks out, these will be the first territories to be targeted."

    "Do you think war is really such a close possibility?" Keno already had an idea about that, but preferred to hear what the citizens there thought. "The Theocracy will still take a long time to recover from the damage done by the elves."

    "I don''t think anything at all, I just do my job and shut up," then, caught up in unexpected haste, he began to walk away. "Now I must go, I still have many areas to cover and risk incurring the boss''s wrath if I don''t complete my rounds. I hope that was helpful!"

    The vampire greeted the merman with a wave of her hand and resumed her walk.

    ''Can it really be as he says? Re-Estize seemed calm and the enslaved elves were let loose. Lakyus also had nothing particular to say. I don''t think war is on the horizon, but what if I''m wrong? What should I do? Better gather more information before making any rash moves.''

    Awareness flowed around that thought like a river pouring over a rock, flooding it. A sigh of relief was breath. No point in wrapping one''s head around it before one had broken it.

    She arrived at a crowded inn, whose hubbub from within devoured the slumbering silence of the street like a furious beast. Once inside, the vampire made her way through hordes and hordes of drunken revelers, so busy partying that they did not even notice a figure as small as her own.

    "Hey, innkeeper," the proprietor was an ogre of great stature, blending well with the hustle and bustle of his clientele, moving like a professional dancer in a ballet through the crowd. Keno had to struggle and raise her voice several times before she caught his attention. "Finally!" She exclaimed, when he had approached her.

    "How can I help you? If you need a table, I think you may have understood from the view that we are full." He muttered, probably annoyed by such an unusual customer..

    "Erendil," was Keno''s only reply.

    The orc''s eyes widened, struck by a sudden realization. The sweat that beaded his forehead became more copious and his voice more uncertain.

    "Are you..." He began to speak, but the vampire did not give him time to finish. No need to lose more time.

    "Yes, no need to add more. Lead me to my table." A general''s order could not have been more peremptory.

    "Certainly, as you wish," he replied slavishly.

    They began to move among that raging torrent, Keno in silence, ignoring the cackling and shouts of happiness and celebration. Even if she did not appreciate them, she was still glad to know that there were people who could appreciate life so much at that moment, even if there was no reason in particular to do so.

    "One of your comrades has already arrived. They have not explained much about the reasons for your visit. Is it something important?"

    "I could tell you, but that could put you in danger. Ignorance is a gift, don''t you think?"

    He fell silent, taking the hint.

    The inn was divided into two floors, and on the upper one was the place reserved for Keno and the people she had to meet. The noise was lessened, but still present.

    "This is the table," said the orc, arriving at their destination. A hooded figure waited lazily seated. A long cobalt sword rested waiting to be unsheathed at her side. "If you need me, do not hesitate to ask. My name is Urkel, and I am at your complete disposal."

    "Thank you, Urkel. Another one should arrive soon. For now, you are dismissed," replied the hooded figure.

    He took his leave, leaving them alone.

    Keno activated the magic [Sound Control] in order to muffle the sound of their words. Combined with the great hubbub and the camouflage ring she wore on her right ring finger, it would have been difficult for their speech to leak out.

    "So you were the first to arrive, shorty." As the vampire took her seat, the hood was lowered, revealing a woman who looked apparently elderly, but whose vitality overflowed like a mountain spring. "I would have bet on our friend, but I''m glad to see you again after all this time."

    "Don''t call me shorty!" The affectionate nickname sounded too derisive for her taste. "Anyway, the same goes for me, Rigrit. How much has it been since last time? Two years? Maybe three," the woman''s wrinkled face expressed happiness in a smile that did not seem to have suffered the passage of years. Fingers tapered like blades but exquisitely delicate touched Keno''s hand in a warm greeting. "How are things in Eryuentiu?"

    Rigrit guzzled from the frothy mug of beer in front of her as if it were water. Then, after licking her lips to wipe off the foam, she gave her answer. "The south has been in turmoil lately. Don''t worry. The flying city is safe as usual. The thirty guardians do a better job of protecting it than I ever could. I rarely return nowadays there in the old capital, but I have subordinates who constantly keep me up to date on the situation."

    "What worries you about the south? As far as I know they have always been small independent kingdoms fighting each other," the harsh conditions of the desert and the made life difficult there. It was once said that few places were as lush as that, but even if that had been true, by now a person unaware of the old stories would never have been able to tell. "The Theocracy is currently at war with one of them if I''m not mistaken."

    Fights between mercenaries were a constant that never changed in those parts. Keno was not an expert on local geopolitics but she could say with certainty that there was not much to fear.

    But Rigrit''s expression seemed not to say as much. In deep thought, the old companion let go of her worries.

    "Yes, the Theocracy is in a fight with the old Talafest Diarchy, a war that I believe will soon come to an end," she said, guzzling another mug. There was no need to specify who she believed to be the future victor. "But that is not what concerns me. You spoke of many small independent kingdoms. Well, that has not been the case for a while. I guess the news hasn''t reached here yet."

    "What do you mean?" Surprise gushed from the vampire''s mask, her scarlet eyes widening in astonishment behind it. "I admit that between the KingSlayer and what is happening in the north there has been little time to worry about southern affairs."

    Rigrit turned her gaze first to the right and then to the left, to be sure that even the walls weren''t paying attention to them. Alone in that place, theirs seemed like a small universe detached from the outside reality.

    "Some time ago the city of Tar-Kalaban met a new ruler. The Golden King, he calls himself. And he proclaimed that the entire south would fall under his hegemony. So far, nothing strange. Characters like these appear in every luster, and their declarations end up being absorbed into the sands of the Masakan desert. But this time, things didn''t go the way they always do."

    "What do you mean?" Keno asked, well aware of what answer would follow.

    Rigrit remained silent for a moment to collect her thoughts.

    "What''s different is that now it was the truth," the tone of voice became slow, plagued by the weight of preoccupations. "In a very short time, the Golden King has united the entire surrounding under one banner. Only the Diarchy and Eryuentiu resist. The former will soon be under the rule of the Theocracy, while the latter is already under his sway. The council of seven that governs the city know that they will not be able to resist much against the forces of Tar-Kalaban. Should he succeed in taking control of the flying city, I dare not think what he might do with it."

    "Even if he were to take the city, it does not mean he could have control of the old Eight Greed Kings'' base. Did you not say that the guardians still mount guard?" Rebutted Keno. The extraordinary power of the Thirty eluded the normal logic of this world, it was impossible to think that a mere newly-born kingdom had sufficient strength to counter it. Only a True Dragon Lord could, indeed, perhaps not even one of that almost extinct species. "In the worst case scenario, this new king would only find himself with a handful of flies on his hands."

    "There''s something I haven''t told you yet. You see..."

    "The Golden King has publicly declared that he is the rightful heir to the Eight Greed Kings. Or the Eight Stars in the Sky, as they are called there."

    A male voice intruded on the conversation. When they saw the newcomer, both Keno and Rigrit were taken aback.

    "Logem!" They exclaimed in chorus. "Where have you been?"

    The elf sat down next to them, accompanied by Urkel.

    "Now that you are all here, may I bring you something?" The orc asked, as he gestured to the rest of the crowd to be silent.

    "Just water for me," said Keno. Her body needed nothing else.

    "Bring me another mug of beer," was Rigrit''s request.

    "For me, some tea. Lots of sugar."

    "I don''t think... I don''t think we have any." Urkel was momentarily taken aback by Logem''s order, but when he saw the one eye of the elf looking at him with such intensity that it could make the bravest heart melt, he quickly corrected himself. "But I don''t think it will take long to get me some. I''ll be right back."

    And immediately he returned with what had been ordered. How had he been so fast, Keno thought it was best not known.

    The vampire observed the elf, who was slowly tasting the hot drink. Compared to Rigrit, not a day seemed to have passed since they had spent countless adventures together.

    Poor Rigrit, how did it feel to be the only one aged among the three? The only one who had felt the passage of time on her skin? At this point, only them remained of the original group.

    Keno had to bury her friends.

    And then their children.

    Soon, it would have been the turn of the grandchildren.

    Rigrit and Logem were still there. But for how much?

    "So I see you''re still the same grumpy guy, Logem;" a crystalline laugh tore at the vampire''s doubts. "If you put all that sugar in, what''s the point of having tea? Let me get you some milk at this point," said the old woman, unable to help but notice the exaggerated amount of sugar cubes the elf was tossing into the cup.

    Logem raised his right hand... and scratched his nose slightly, caught by an annoying pinch.

    "That''s the way I like it," he merely replied, receiving a sardonic smile from Rigrit, who once again brought the mug of ale to her mouth. "You haven''t changed either. Still the same vulgar woman... Didn''t they teach you manners when you were little?" And he pointed to her lips, dirty of beer.

    Keno emitted a low laugh behind her mask. Then, suddenly remembering what they were talking about, she asked the elf: "Is what you said true? The Golden King is truly a descendant of the Eight Greed Kings?"

    "Well, that I cannot say for sure," the scar seemed to have almost disappeared under the elf''s relaxed face, the vampire noticed. "But when I was in the southern reigns, years ago, there was already talk of his emerging strength. Personally, I doubt his proclamations are true, but if I am wrong, there could be trouble."

    The vampire similarly shared her old comrade''s opinions and concerns.

    "Yet it seems so strange to me that a descendant of the old masters of the world has only now sprung up," more than five centuries, in fact, had passed since their undoing. A conflict whose magnitude was still lost in the folds of history. "And, above all, even if indeed any of that lost lineage had survived, Tsa would not have allowed it."

    At the mention of their old comrade, faces darkened. The dragon''s fate was unknown even to those who had once fought together with him. Still, his absence left a void in their hearts.

    At the time of revelation, they had felt rage against him and his deceptions. But now the dragon''s wisdom and strength were missed.

    If he were still with them, how would things have changed?

    "It may well be that he only intends to give himself some sort of authenticity when he asserts his supposed rights to the flying city," ventured Logem, his shoulders tightening in uncertainty. "That way it will be easier to convince the guardians to share their secrets."

    "Indeed, I have heard that a new cult celebrating the eight has been founded and all other religions are being suppressed," Rigrit''s voice grew hoarse, as if a toad had died in her throat. "But, believe me when I tell you that if this is just a cunning scheme to be able to fool the keepers of Erentiyu, it will be doomed from the start. The way of thinking of those beings is alien and unknown to minds like ours. They follow inflexible absolutes that cannot be distorted or changed. And those absolutes are their Masters'' wishes. Morality, ethics, but also opportunity and profit take second place when compared to the will of their masters. And now that the latter are gone, only standing guard over what had once been theirs is the only semblance of life they have left."

    Of the three present, only she had an idea, however approximate, of the thirty keepers after years spent in that fortress, knowing no other life.

    A bird in a cage, whose open door made it no easier to escape her captivity.

    Keno was seized by unpleasant memories, which she stifled with ruthless force in the innermost recesses of her mind.

    "In any case, the matter deserves further investigation. I would take care of it myself, but at the moment my schedule is not lacking," Logem observed the empty cup in front of his single eye, as if intent on scanning the future at the bottom of it. Or perhaps it was just a way of not holding their inquisitive gaze, already aware of the questions that would follow. "Go ahead, I have no problems imagining what you want to know. But let''s try to make this stupid dance conform to classical patterns. Who will be the first?"

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The onus fell on Keno.

    "As for this KingSlayer, are the rumors about her true? That she killed your father and stained the forest of Evasha with the blood of elves?"

    Logem''s face was furrowed with a devilish smile, his lips took on a deep scarlet hue.

    "Yes, it''s all true. Oh you should have been there! I can still see that moment. The king crawling at my feet, her approaching and piercing his heart. Splendid! Marvelous! Magnificent! Ahahahah!" Caught up in a perverse madness, he began to laugh without restraint. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, the elf''s incandescent fury quieted down to make way once more for his customary calm. "Forgive this unfortunate display of happiness... It still seems so unreal to me. Sometimes I am still afraid to wake up and realize that the nightmare is never over."

    "You have nothing to apologize for," Rigrit comforted him, resting a hand on his. "''Sulky as you are, it was more fun than anything else to see you externalize so many... feelings. Let us not allow ourselves to be despondent. Instead, we will celebrate that you finally managed to put an end to your revenge! After all these years... I am as incredulous as you are, and I am sincere in saying that I feel no less joy than you do."

    Logem mumbled, his gesture of sincere thanks.

    "I feel the same," Keno said, wondering if she should replicate the woman''s gesture. She desisted. "I am happy for you and the elves, truly. But that does not detract from the fact that we are faced with an unknown force that seems entirely inclined to ally itself with our enemies. The question is therefore: can we trust her to go free?"

    The elf''s expression frowned. His eye glowed with a bloodlust that seemed dormant, but not quite tamed.

    "What do you mean? Are you asking if we can trust her or should we eliminate her?"

    "She is still a citizen of the Theocracy. Or do you mean to tell me that she doesn''t share their ideas about the human race and their supposed superiority?" Quite the opposite of what Argland was professing. This, they both knew. "If we take your stories about your father as a reference, we are looking at someone even Lord Suveria and the other dragons cannot hope to beat."

    "Exactly. What makes you think we could have any hope of beating her if we were to draw her wrath?"

    "This I know perfectly well," a sigh hidden behind the mask, faint but not inaudible. "And therefore it is good to establish who are the friends we will be able to count on in times of need... and who are the enemies."

    Silence.

    Logem seemed on the verge of jumping up and abandoning them in that sitting place. Instead, after what seemed an interminable moment, he simply told it like it was.

    "I have no intention of betraying the one who saved me and my people. Not that I have any sympathy for the Theocracy, on the contrary. Nevertheless, let it not be said that my debts are not repaid," before Keno could counter, he raised his hand to signal for her to stop. "Mind you. That does not mean that I will not do everything in my power to nip any conflict squarely in the bud. Most of all, the horrors of war are known to me. They have been my carers, tutors and friends. And precisely because I know them so well, I will not let others relive what I had to go through."

    "Please excuse me if I seemed insensitive," a mistake she had unfortunately made far too many times. "There are still so many unknowns, and defining who are those we can trust is essential at this time. What seems rude to you, I can assure is only caution."

    "Come now, there is no need to show such hostility," as usual, Rigrit showed herself the wiser of the situation. "If Riku saw you right now, I''m sure his heart would weep endlessly."

    The mention of the late friend had an obvious effect on both of them.

    "That fool would get in the way with a few run-on sentences about friendship and other such nonsense. Then, when he would finally realize that they were of no use other than to overheat tempers even more, he would look at us with eyes that seemed to be the very wellspring of honesty in this world. What an idiot...," despite the harshness of his words, Keno knew that what Logem felt for their old leader went far beyond that. She understood it well, since it was the same feeling she herself experienced. "How was that little poem he used to recite so much?"

    "An oath carved in mud.

    The horse and knight are already past.

    Where is the horn he blew?

    They are gone like the rain on the mountains,

    like the wind in the meadows.

    The days have waned in the west,

    behind the hills,

    into the shadows."

    Hearing her sing in a whisper, Keno saw the young daredevil of yesteryear again in Rigrit. But the old woman had not disappeared, she had only finally appeared as she really was, stripped of a mantle that had never been there, except in the vampire''s mind..

    The weight of the years accentuated her sweetness, the wrinkles her beauty.

    For a moment, the vampire felt envy. Envy at seeing how the cruelty of the passage of time could be such a blessing.

    In the change, there was a poetry that wove the gifts of nature. An imperfection that tended towards infinity, a constant search for a harmony that might never be achieved.

    The living celebrated youth, leaving old age as a mere bogeyman to beware of. This was only because they did not understand what it meant to be trapped forever in an arid perfection, without being able to free themselves from that condition.

    If the truly brave were those who were afraid, how could one live without fearing death?

    A withered flower was no less graceful than one that had just bloomed.

    "You were really great, Rigrit," she interrupted the flow of her thoughts before they drowned her. "How did you remember it so well?"

    The woman''s cheeks turned red. Enchanting, in their innocence. "I heard it so many times, when we were alone, that it would have been impossible even for an old cobbler like me to forget it." Remembrances too painful but at the same time full of happiness invaded her mind. Keno could read Rigrit''s inner memories as if they had been her own. "Now that we''ve cleared the air, I''d say we can divide our tasks. I will go south. I will keep an eye on both this elusive Golden King and the forces of the Theocracy there."

    "I will continue to keep an eye on the KingSlayer. If there is any news worthy of note, I will report it to you," Logem said, still irritated but no less cooperative.

    "Perfect," a toothy smile appeared on Rigrit''s youthful face. "And you, shorty? What are you going to do? Will you stay here in Argland?"

    "I told you not to call me shorty! No, I have another assignment that has been given to me. Remember the Empire of Sorsilia?"

    Rigrit appeared confused. Logem, on the other hand, was all too quick to give her an answer.

    "The kingdom to the west that recently got into a civil war. Refugees from those lands made it more difficult to transport refugees from the forest of Evasha, when there was still war," an unexpected bitterness was betrayed by the elf''s trembling lips. "It was also one of the old kingdoms founded by the Platinum Dragon Lord, right?"

    He uttered that last sentence in a low voice, to avoid being heard.

    "Exactly," Keno retorted with the same intensity. "It was under the direct control of an old dragon friend of Tsa and Suveria, who acted as the emperor''s prime minister. But it seems that both have disappeared, and with them most of the imperial family."

    "A dragon suddenly disappearing into thin air is never a good sign. Something is rotten underneath," Rigrit''s worries were not unfounded.

    "There''s more. The Commonwealth tried to seize some of the old territories by taking advantage of the chaos, but they seem to have been repelled. A total rout, according to the fragmentary reports we have received."

    "Did they use their famous golems?" Logem asked. Each of those golems, even taken individually, was comparable to a group of adamantium-ranked adventurers.

    "It would appear not. But it was still a mighty army routed. And the perpetrator would be one person, to boot."

    "You don''t mean..." the elf and the woman exclaimed in unison.

    Keno preceded them before they could finish the line.

    "Yes. We fear it is another apparition comparable to the KingSlayer," trouble never came alone. If one also added what Rirgrit had said, great changes seemed to be arriving all at once. Like a storm sweeping over everything. "All we know is that he calls himself the Witch King. Yes, a high-sounding name, I know. He has taken total control of the empire, thanks in part to his forced marriage to the last remaining princess, a distant niece of the old emperor."

    "So your job is to try and figure out exactly what happened?" Rigrit''s question concealed an all too obvious concern. "You''re not going alone, I hope."

    "Don''t worry, I have been assigned a trusted guard," she reassured her. "And the mission shouldn''t be too dangerous. Just trying to get some clarity on what exactly is going on there."

    Both Rigrit and Logem seemed heartened. If they had any other doubts, they did not leak them.

    "Then, I propose a toast!" The woman drew the attention of Urkel, who was passing just then to check that everything was going well. "May we get together again as soon as possible! No matter how long the road ahead will be, as long as we know we will have a place to return to!"

    Arwintar, Baharuth Empire Capital

    If E-Rantel was tradition, Arwintar was innovation.

    A vibrant sensation filled the lungs, and the people walking in the streets were in constant motion, as if called by an ancestral force that urged them to move ceaselessly in search of progress to be achieved.

    New things were constantly being introduced and brought out to society, giving rise to the opportunity for merchants to explore many new markets. A constant influx of goods and talents was seen in the Empire''s capital. For the citizens living in the capital, it truly was a time of hope and opportunity

    Antilene wandered around the city markets with Etienne, Agravaine and Melody remained in the room they had been assigned upon arrival, and the quantity of products present made the half-elf''s eyes sparkle with earnest curiosity.

    Equal-footed horses, companions on the return journey, marked out the distance along the dying day.

    "Wow, herbs from the Minotaur Kingdom. And these spices are a speciality of Beppo Allo," she read aloud the various tags on display, mixing in the spending crowd with an extraordinary naturalness. "How much for this Pepe... Peperoncino?"

    "Ahahaha, it''s called pepper, miss," the merchant corrected her. A slender man with a rapt look, the skills honed by experience. "Actually, in confidence, I can tell you that it comes from places further afield than the city-state. The merchant who sold it to me, a very honest fellow, claims its origin can be traced back to a very¡­ very far place," hands began to gesture, as if tracing invisible maps in the air. "A giant goblin kingdom located in the center of the continent. It is particularly renewed for the strongly spicy flavor it imparts to food."

    Those origins were far too... exotic for her taste. But the desire to try something won over the disgust. Spicy. She was not used to it, but there was always a first time.

    "And how much is the cost?" She asked, while motioning the butler to approach.

    "Ten grams for one silver coin. Practically given away," the smile he gave her as a free gift didn''t say as much. A marten would have looked more honest. "If you buy a hundred, I''m willing to give you a small discount. Nine coins instead of ten."

    Antilene didn''t seem very convinced of the fairness of that price, but she hated haggling like few other things. Even in the Theocracy, her spendthrift was infamous among the Cardinals.

    Before he could hand over the bag, Etienne whispered in her ear: "try not to flaunt too much wealth, or we would risk attracting too much attention."

    An eventuality the half-elf had not thought of, but it seemed appearance alone was cause for prying eyes, even in a city accustomed to the extravagances of the adventurers like that.

    Heeding the advice she had received, the half-elf tried to make an offer.

    "Eight silver coins and six copper coins."

    "Impossible. I would end up broke." The fairy tales she listened to as a child were more believable.

    Antilene made to leave, but was suddenly stopped, called back by the merchant.

    "Okay, miss. Eight silver coins and eleven copper," the merchant''s voice became more mellifluous. For a moment Antilene almost pitied him.

    "Seven copper coins," she attempted to lower the stakes.

    "Ten copper coins. Or my children will have nothing to eat tonight." The half-elf doubted she had children, but still felt strangely moved by that last statement.

    "Okay, it''s a deal," more important to give the idea to unwanted glances that she was not a rich, clueless lady. The final price did not matter. "You sure know how to conduct business."

    "Oh, I could say as much about you, young lady," a lie disguised as a compliment. Antilene ignored it and, after paying, placed the envelope with the goods in the bag Etienne was carrying.

    That was not the only stop. After only a few hours, much of the small sum they had brought with them was almost finished.

    "Are you satisfied with your purchases, Lady Antilene?" The elf asked as they continued to move between the various stalls. Many other things attracted Antilene''s attention, who was used to the closed markets of the Theocracy that knew great products from within but very few curiosities from outside.

    Much of what had been purchased was probably junk passed off as rarities from exotic places, but Antilene was banking on something extraordinary he had managed to catch in the midst of that welter.

    "I would say yes. I like to try new things. Don''t you find it exciting to discover something that was unknown to you until recently, Etienne?"

    The elf tightened his shoulders. It was admirable how he kept a perfect gait even with all those packages he was carrying. Perhaps she should have helped him, but the half-elf considered that the butler was happier doing all the work himself. Maybe.

    "I am a simple person," he said, nimbly dodging every passer-by who crossed his path. "And old. It is with difficulty that I can break away from my habits."

    "Oh, don''t use the old excuse," curious how elves and humans made the same kind of justifications. Simple statements of taste were masked by external factors that influenced the outcome. "Just say that you prefer things to be done a certain way. There is no need to be afraid to show yourself for what you truly are. It is your Queen who commands you!"

    "I understand perfectly, Your Majesty."

    They reached a well-ventilated lay-by. The cool weather made resting on the chosen bench even more satisfying.

    "Perhaps we should return, I wouldn''t want Melody and Agravaine to be bored standing guard. Besides, you must be tired too, right?"

    "A little rest wouldn''t hurt, Your Majesty."

    For someone so bound by tradition, Etienne had adapted quickly. Antilene was deeply pleased.

    "The dance will be in two days. I wonder what I could do in the meantime? Moving around the city all the time would be tiring."

    In retrospect, she still hadn''t decided how she was going to do it, nor what the goals would be. She had a vague idea, very nebulous in fact, but nothing concrete on her hands.

    ''Well, I''m used to adapting to the cards I''m dealt.''

    Some children walked past them. Laughter and shouts of derision might have annoyed other passers-by, but the half-elf found them rather pleasant. There was a welcome innocence and candor in those pestiferous brats.

    A rag ball rolled by where she was sitting.

    "Hey, lady, can you pass us the ball?" A child with grizzled golden hair approached. Dirty clothes and skinned knees were a decoration of bravery for him, judging by the pride with which he sported them.

    "Sure," Antilene kicked it, under Etienne''s disapproving gaze. She calibrated the force to the minimum, but it was not enough. It was never enough.

    The ball flew into the air, beyond the clouds. The small group of children stared in wonder at the spectacle for a few seconds, before it began to descend, gaining more and more momentum.

    If it had fallen to the ground, someone would not have come out unscathed.

    The half-elf rushed to catch it, also leaping into the air to intercept it. Of course, she managed to get it before it could do any damage, but the landing caused a cloud of smoke to billow across the pitch.

    Everyone began to applaud her, as all the attention was now exclusively hers.

    "I think we will have to retreat now, your majesty," said Etienne, who was trying to shield curious eyes aimed at his mistress.

    Antilene, embarrassed by all that scrutiny, returned the ball to the children, this time by hand.

    "You are a powerhouse, lady!" Remarked one of them, his eyes glazing over in admiration. "How can we become like you?" Asked another.

    "Um... eat lots of fruits and vegetables and always listen to your parents," she explained to them as she walked away, missing the disappointment that crackled at her words.

    "Fiuuu, that was close!"

    They returned to their rooms, where waiting for them besides Agravaine and Melody was a young blond-haired boy, accompanied by a large number of guards and attendants.

    "Lady Antilene, I see you have been well received in my humble city. I can well see there was no shortage of desires to be fulfilled," he commented, noting the packages Etienne was now arranging in the room. "I am Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix, Emperor of Baharuth. I deeply apologize if I was unable to receive you immediately, but important affairs of state required my presence elsewhere."

    He bowed, about to kiss her hand, but the half-elf quickly recoiled, leaving him startled for a second. "There is no need for you to apologize. My servant and I were able to enjoy a bit of normality without being disturbed," she broke out her most cordial smile. Oddly enough, the emperor''s guards sprang swiftly to his defense. "Has something happened?" She asked, unaware whether a serious offense had been committed.

    "Nono, absolutely nothing," Jircniv''s face had gone from peerless confidence to grim uncertainty in the blink of an eye. "My men are just too quick to move for nothing. They do it because they care about my safety, and for that I am deeply grateful. But I confess that sometimes it would be nice to have a little more freedom."

    Antilene cast a glance at her two servants who were finishing putting the day''s purchases in their places. "I understand completely. I can''t say I''m completely used to it yet, but sometimes it''s nice to get all this attention. And I stress ''sometimes''."

    They shared a light laugh.

    "May I invite you for a tour of the building?" The Emperor''s proposal came in a moment of weariness, after a whole day spent walking around, but Antilene considered that it would have been rude to refuse.

    There would have been another, more suitable, time for idleness.

    "Gladly, as long as it is not too prolonged. And I''ll come alone, I don''t care to tire my retainers too much."

    "Sister, are you sure?" Agravaine interjected, worried. "It shouldn''t be a problem for me to accompany you. It is not good for a Queen to be seen alone."

    "Oh, this is just an informal occasion. There will be no need to follow protocol to the letter, will there?" She sought Jircniv''s approval, which came with a nod. "Besides, it''s obvious you''re worn out from constant travel. This is not an invitation, but an order! Or do you think something might happen to me?"

    Agravaine recoiled in defeat. Like her, Etienne and Melody reluctantly accepted their ruler''s will.

    Antilene started walking with Jircniv in the wings of the imperial palace. Two knights dressed entirely in black were with them, one bulky man and a well-built woman, intent on scrutinizing his every slightest movement. The half-elf judged it to be commonplace for their position, and although she found it irritating as obvious as it was, she decided to let it pass.

    "How does this palace compare to those to which you are accustomed, Lady Antilene?" Jircniv''s smile grew warmer, the tone of his voice more affective. "I have been a few times in the Theocracy, but never in the capital where, I understand, you grew up."

    "I am not an expert in architecture, so you will excuse me if the answer is vague," she began. "The luxury that comes from these places is suffocating, almost ostentatious. In the Theocracy only that which pertains to the Gods can be celebrated and admired. Not that there cannot be exquisitely crafted decorations, but they are always aimed at a specific, higher purpose. Whereas here it is the pursuit of beauty as such that prevails. At least, from what I can see here."

    Now that she paid more attention, that difference was accentuated by their clothes. The jumper and long trousers Antilene wore were practical and comfortable, perfect for facing a long, harsh winter like the one they were now experiencing.

    On the other hand, Jircniv was covered in precious garments, gold and jewelry which accentuated his pleasing features. To be able to move under all that luxury he had probably undergone exhausting training.

    As they continued their tour, pictures depicting previous emperors seemed to emerge from the canvases they were imprisoned in, peering out at them. Antilene, unaccustomed to all that human exaltation, felt almost crushed with discomfort.

    "I understand what you mean, Lady Antilene," they crossed the threshold leading to a large hall. Chivalrous statues so realistic that it appeared they greeted them with military salutes. "Ours is a nation based on individuality. We believe that the talents of the single shine when glorified and cultivated. Our philosophy is not ''what can you do for the community?'' but rather ''what can the community do for you?'' Obviously, what is given is expected to be returned."

    Scarlet eyes, brimming with sincerity, closed and reopened before her gaze. A cloud of inscrutable thoughts seemed to appear in the young emperor''s head.

    They stepped outside onto a long balcony from which one of the inner gardens could be seen.

    "This is one of our troops'' training sessions," discipline and ardor under the unbending gaze of a knight wearing the same armor as the bodyguards were on display. "The imperial guard is my pride. How do you think they compare to the soldiers of the Theocracy?"

    Antilene watched the sunset receding beyond the hills and the sweat still beading on the men''s jerky bodies.

    "I do not think I am able to provide an adequate comparison," a disappointment that could not be hidden even by a skilled actor like Jircniv. "But they seem like able-bodied men to me. Willing to risk their lives to protect what they hold dear."

    "I assumed the famous KingSlayer knew about military arts," if he had called her bluff, he didn''t show it. "Honestly, I thought it might be possible to get some tips for our military."

    He sighed, admiring the sunset. One of the guards, a woman with long blond hair, approached him and said something Antilene could not quite understand.

    He stood there, saying nothing, continuing to observe the training.

    The silence took the half-elf, who by now had already become accustomed to Jircniv''s loquacity, by surprise.

    "I am nothing special. Most of the stories told about me are exaggerated," a timid attempt to get the conversation going again. "I am willing to bet that your generals and knights are much more talented than I am."

    Jircniv assumed a quizzical air. "Do you mean to say that the story that you killed your father and eliminated an army single-handedly is just hogwash?"

    "N...no. Those are true."

    "And that you tamed a dragon all by yourself?"

    "...That is also true."

    "And that you bathe in volcanic lava?"

    "That is false!"

    Jircniv tried to hold back a laugh. But he failed in his endeavor, and began to crack up laughing. It took him a good five minutes before he regained his composure.

    "Forgive me, Lady Antilene. The expression you made was far too funny. At least I am relieved to know that there should be no problem with your cleanliness while you are my guest."

    "I did not think you had much of a sense of humor, your Majesty," until that moment, Antilene''s idea of him was that of a capable and confident man who had no time to waste on such nonsense. It was difficult now to make the image that had presented itself before her coincide with the one outlined just before. "A person of lesser caliber would have taken your behavior as gravely offensive. Fortunately for you, I find it amusing."

    Laughter rose from his lips to his eyes, which took on newfound vitality. "I suppose I had accumulated far too much stress in the last few days. Honestly, I have thought hundreds of times in my head what would be the most suitable way to approach you. You are... different from what I expected."

    "What did you expect?" She asked, defensively.

    "The personification of death and war. A possible ally... or an enemy to watch out for," and when the mask gave way, Antilene could see what moved that fragile body. "Let me set the record straight. Nothing is more important to me than the prosperity of my nation. Nothing. Let them call me bloody emperor, tyrant or any other appellation that comes to mind. I will do everything in my power to ensure a better future for my subjects."

    Respect.

    That was what the half-elf felt for the ruler of Baharuth.

    The passion and love for his people was far greater than what others in the same position felt.

    Others like her.

    "I have been asked something like this before," she said, as her memory returned of her brief stay in E-Rantel. "And let me tell you that I am absolutely sincere when I say that you have nothing to fear from me. Like you, I too have dear things that I want to protect. As long as they are not threatened, you will have nothing to fear."

    The night had come. Stars contended the sky in droves.

    "Lady Antilene, allow me to make you a proposal."

    "Go ahead."

    "Will you marry me?"

 Chapter 35: A thankless job

    Chapter 35

    A thankless job

    Arwintar, Baharuth Empire

    "-Will you marry me?"

    The darkness of the night cast its shadow on the terrace. The heat of the stars had never been so warm. The young blond had dared to say something so outrageous with the same lashing expression that characterized him hitherto.

    "-Will you marry me?"

    It was not the first time Antilene had heard those words. In fact, she had heard them far too many times over the years. Family was what was expected of her. Like a thoroughbred horse she was supposed to multiply, so that her foals could ride the world.

    But was that what she wished for? Was it relevant?

    A weapons factory that was never to cease production in which the miracle of life was a brutal mechanical operation, devoid of poetry. There, she would be forever stamped with the mark of slavery. Her womanhood, her damnation.

    Family. That word that for many was so banal, for her was a source of inscrutable mysteries. A clot of uncertainties and remnants of traumas never dormant.

    ''I will marry the one who succeeds in defeating me!''

    That was her mantra. That was her law. Defeat meant love. That was her lie. A lie with the hope of becoming truth one distant day.

    "-Will you marry me?"

    What cannot be had is desired. She was the object of that desire. The lady of the Black Scripture. The girl who would never become a woman, not until the miracle predicted by that fabrication would come true. For who on earth could have made her know the taste of defeat?

    Her deception would never be revealed. That castle built on falsehoods would not be torn down. An evolutionary process halted by the harshness of reality.

    The solitude she had chosen would not have withered away.

    And, like so many before him, that boy whose springs were insignificant compared to hers, whose frail body seemed at any moment to be at the mercy of the force of the wind that would carry it away, had had the audacity to make that proposal to her.

    Thoughts twisted and scrambled among themselves, searching for a possible answer.

    The young emperor''s hair was golden threads entwined with each other, the splendor of which looked like a piece of the sun itself placed on his head. In the paleness of the night, his skin welcomed the light of the stars. A figure hollowed out in the precious marble that had come to life, whose light touch of rose recalled his mortality.

    Beauty was not a sufficient word to describe him, but Antilene knew no other word suitable enough.

    "-Will you marry me?"

    An indecent proposal. Why her? And why so soon? It made no sense at all. No, it didn''t. Cold. Where was the love and romance in that? Or were they just disappointments dictated by a youth that had never been outgrown, although the passage of years would suggest otherwise?

    Cold was Jircniv''s gaze, lost in a distance that did not concern her. What was he looking at? A divine design that only he could observe?

    Cold was the grate on which she was leaning, which seemed to have absorbed the chill of nature.

    And cold was the half-elf''s heart. If she had ever known romantic love, surely that was not the moment that would open the doors of her soul.

    How to respond? She looked a second time at Jircniv, and then a third and then a fourth. Antilene kept looking away and then quickly looking up again, while the emperor remained still. In the eyes of the guards, rather than a touching moment, that must have appeared like a very bizarre game.

    The swirl of her emotions became more intense, an overwhelming whirlwind that drew everything to itself.

    In the end, still dazed by the unexpected question, there was only one possible reaction.

    Antilene laughed.

    She laughed so loudly that none of those present could tell whether they were dreaming or whether that was the truth.

    That sound so pleasant swallowed like a starving beast, fasting for days, the silence that had slowly grown until that instant.

    "Do you find my proposal so amusing?" Jircniv''s calmness aimed at hiding the rudeness of the insult he had suffered. The smile he gave her was more false than the one a perfidious counselor offers. "Because I can assure you that it was not my intention to amuse you. If nothing else, I would have expected at least a proper response from a person in your position."

    While the emperor''s irritation might have been palpable, his guards did not seem to share what he was feeling. The woman had maintained a superhuman impassivity, totally untouched by the affair, while the man held a hand to his mouth to maintain a modicum of decency, otherwise he would have snapped just like the half-elf.

    "It was not my intention to offend you," Antilene ran a hand through her disheveled hair to restore it to a semblance of order after it had been stirred by the hilarious movements of her body. "I know that the seriousness of the proposal could not be questioned. And that is why I could not restrain myself. Try to understand me, in front of such madness what could have been a normal answer but this? Anything else I had done would have been insanity!"

    Evidently, the emperor was not of the same opinion. ''Where do you see folly in my offer? We are both two unmarried royal family members, about the same age if we convert your elven years. Our nations are on good terms, and we can bring countless benefits to each other. I do not see what is so outrageous about this."

    He shook his fingers. One of the servants in the adjacent room offered them two goblets filled with red wine.

    Antilene brought one to her lips, overwhelmed by the acidity.

    "It seems obvious to me," she countered, leaving the glass still full. ''How do you know our union will work if we''ve barely known each other for a few hours? Doesn''t this seem rushed to you? I for one have never longed for the idea of getting married. Certainly not to someone I just met and whom I have no idea if I could ever love."

    Jircniv tasted the wine, his expression caught by a sudden realization, which made his nerves relax.

    "I think I understand where I went wrong," he said, his glass half full. "I treated you as a person of noble blood, when I should have imagined you were closer to a commoner."

    The subtext of the declaration was not picked up by the half-elf, who continued to listen in silence.

    "Take no offense," he quickly explained himself, as if he understood what the Elf Queen was thinking. "It was not an insinuation about your lineage. On the contrary, a simple observation. Your mind reasons as one who has never been shackled by concepts such as duty and responsibility."

    "If you please," his haughtiness was beginning to annoy her. Of the many proposals received over the years, that one was undoubtedly the most bizarre. "I don''t think it''s for you to judge me. Or do you believe that to get to a woman''s heart it is enough to treat her with conceitedness?"

    "Let me clarify. What I am asking for is not a love marriage. That is a luxury that people of our rank are not allowed," and for the first time, sincerity showed in his words. Even if it was strange to see someone who could boast such wealth complain of a forbidden kind of riches."Our marriage should not be dictated by rambling love, but by the relative benefits we can bring to each other."

    "And what might those mysterious benefits be?" A question derived more from good manners than curiosity. Having already formed her own idea, Antilene found further inquiries unnecessary. "You will have to be really convincing. Assuming that the desire to lead me to the altar is as strong as you are trying to imply."

    Jircniv finished his glass of wine, as if the drink sharpened his oratorical skills. "It''s simple," the tone became vigorous and energetic. Every word was meticulously calibrated to achieve its purpose. "I too, like every human being, am destined to wither. Old age is a curse that few can escape. But I do not regret it; unlike others, I have accepted my fate. What I do not accept is to know that one day, which may be near, a distant descendant of mine may throw away all that I have built."

    The problem of successors who did not compare with their illustrious predecessors was an issue inherent to the monarchical system. A system that the Theocracy had abandoned since its birth, due to its inherent ineffectiveness. Even Antilene knew this, and Jircniv was certainly more aware of it than she was.

    "I don''t see what a possible marriage to me would solve," the half-elf said, setting her wine glass down on a nearby tray. Instead, she had the servant bring her a glass of orange juice. "Did you mistake me for a wish-fulfilling genie?"

    "A genie maybe not," he chuckled, his attention focused on the sides of her head where thick hair covered the sides. "But I am aware of the longevity of your race. If my descendants could acquire it, I would at least be aware that my direct successor will be a person capable of ruling for many, many years."

    One had to be careful with what was desired. Like any other human, even one as enlightened as Jircniv was fascinated by the possibility of deceiving, temporarily, Lord Surshana. Even if in that case, for the benefit of someone else.

    However, the Scythe of the End knew how to be relentless with those who tried to escape its touch.

    "So if I''m not mistaken, your plan is for me to give you a son, perhaps more than one, to be sure that the best heir you picked will rule this nation for years and years," the moonlight spilled onto her womb. To Antilene, it felt like home. "A machine churning out children for your delight."

    "That''s a limited way of looking at things," he justified himself, with the same straight face as a thief who has been caught stealing. "The union of our bloodlines could lead to the birth of a ''superior-man'', capable of bringing order and prosperity not only to the Empire, but also to all neighboring human nations. Is this not what the Theocracy professes? An oasis where humanity can rest forever. We could make it possible."

    Different words, but the gist of the speech had been heard before. The emperor moved even closer, clasping her hands in his. To the touch, the sensation they gave was slippery and uncomfortable.

    "As sovereigns, it is our duty to think of putting the needs of the many before our own," calm and quietly he spoke, yet she could hear him thundering and imperious. "But do not think I see you only as a womb with legs. If I have chosen you, it is also because I count in your military prowess and the education you received in the Theocracy. An education unlike any other. Allow me to use it for the greater good."

    How many had he bewitched with those amethyst eyes, precious as jewels? To her, however, they seemed empty. Crushed by an invisible weight that not even their bearer was aware of.

    In a sense, he was pitiful.

    Duty. A word she had known all too well since childhood. Antilena could say with certainty that what Jircniv was saying was true.

    There was no falsehood in what he claimed. He truly loved his people. More than he would ever have loved her, any other woman or any of his children. For he wasn''t a man anymore, but the personification of an idea. An idea called ''Baharuth Empire''.

    And that was precisely why she could not accept him.

    "My answer is still the same," the half-elf stepped back, suddenly feeling free. "That is our great difference, Emperor Jircniv. You act with the future of your kingdom in mind. On the contrary, my future is all I care about. Live an unhappy life just because some silly word says so? Ridiculous. Duty. More than any other chain has imprisoned me. I was a slave to it when you were only a recondite thought of your father. I was subject to it when your ancestors claimed these lands. The blood I spilled was the price of my ransom! Now that I am free, I will not surrender what I have laboriously won for anything in the world!"

    The emperor sighed, dejected but not defeated.

    "Is that your answer then?" The fire in the half-elf''s gaze was what dispelled her doubts. "Allow me to make a counterproposal, then. Let us postpone this discussion until after the ball. Observe the other rulers, see the mediocrity around us. I am sure that when you see the lack of talent among the various Kings and Queens, you will be convinced of my words."

    They reentered the hall, Antilene in silence, Jircniv not altogether different. Lights meticulous in teaching what the night looked like greeted them with the kindness of a loving parent.

    "I promise you that the discussion will resume in two days," to give more would have been foolhardy. The sound of her footsteps played a sad melody on the warm marble floor that echoed in the silence of the room. "Nevertheless, I don''t want you to think that there are really any other possibilities still open. I don''t think it''s fair to you to raise false hopes."

    "I will make do with that for the time being," the emperor raised his hands in defeat. Resignation mixed with a hint of optimism. "I am sure that after thinking more deeply about the talk we just had, you will be able to understand the nobility of my intentions."

    "Beware, for confidence is good, but too much may prove dangerous," a warning disguised as advice. The half-elf''s lips joined in a thin red line. The smile was so bright that it was hard not to see how empty the eyes were. Was a veiled threat a fitting action for a Queen? It was for Antilene, and that was enough. "I do not doubt that your intentions are sincere. What I do doubt is that your words are as well."

    "I have only to prove it to you then," Jircniv sustained her gaze unswayed by it. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in fortitude. "My actions and thoughts are as pure as crystal!"

    A crystal that certainly shone magnificently, but whose intrinsic value was all to be proven.

    "Now, if you will permit, I would like to retire to my rooms," Antilene said in a whisper. A whisper that had the force of a hurricane. "Possibly alone."

    "At least let one of my knights escort you," a kindness designed to control her. So simple to read as to be trivial. "I wouldn''t want you to get lost in these great corridors."

    The game of blade and handle. He had the blade, but what would she do with the handle?

    "Leinas will be more than happy to accompany you!" He exclaimed, giving the woman-knight space.

    The half-elf''s neck was grazed by the steel of those words.

    "Then, let us go," a face concealed from the darkness by long golden hair. A face that bore no emotion but heavy shadows that disfigured its serenity. "Jircniv, we will meet again at the ball. Next time I think that our encounter will be more... fruitful. For me and for you."

    "I will be happy to say as much. And I shall wish to be as enchanted by your beauty and wisdom as I have been today!"

    Twofold was the cut of the swords as of their words.

    Antilene and Leinas started down the road, the chill of the atmosphere so persistent it could have been a snowy mountain storm. But that silence was not unpleasant.

    Strangely enough, it was the escort who was the first to speak.

    "So, you are from the Theocracy, Lady Antilene?" Stunned like someone hearing sound for the first time, the half-elf was taken aback by the triviality of that question.

    "There I was born and grew up," she replied, looking for a new weakness in that seemingly impassive knight. Had she wished to surpass her, she would have succeeded as easily as a butterfly flaps its wings. "Lovely place. Don''t visit it during the summer or you might get sunburnt. I personally have never participated, but I heard that the goblin hunts organized near Kami Miyako are a great tourist attraction."

    Too much of an exaggeration?

    Leinas touched the blond forelock that covered part of her face. In an uncertain voice, she said, "Is the Theocracy really as technologically advanced as they say? Every magical miracle is capable of being performed?"

    "I''m not the best person to answer that," a flamboyant quiet consumed the uncertainty of an indulgent look. "Magic is not my field of specialty. But I''m pretty sure the level of preparation is far superior to that of the Empire. That does not mean, however, that it is accessible to everyone. But why are you asking me this?"

    "I have a friend who could use some help," and this friend was called Leinas, Antilene was ready to bet. "A severe curse hangs over her, and she wondered if it wasn''t possible to still harbor hope that she could... I don''t know, maybe it''s silly. After all this time."

    They had almost reached the chamber designated for the half-elf, but Antilene decided to put an end to that albeit brief conversation.

    "Do you not have Paradyne here?" The fame of the imperial archmage had reached even her. If possible, she would have liked to meet him. "If it is not possible for him, I doubt there is anyone in the Theocracy capable of accomplishing as much."

    At least, as limited as her knowledge was. Perhaps with a ritual... But she certainly wasn''t going to divulge secret practices with the first one she passed. For all Antilene knew, that could very well have been a trap.

    "I see," Leinas'' disappointment seemed real, devoid of trickery. But was it really so? If understanding others was as simple as fencing was, perhaps her life would have been less complicated. Or at least more fun. "I apologize if I have taken up your valuable time. Mine was simple curiosity. If I may speak frankly, I don''t think the emperor''s intentions are misplaced. He truly believes in everything he said tonight."

    "That is the worst part, my dear knight," the half-elf replied, intent on entering her room. "Not having lied does not make his proposal any less deceptive. If anything, it is all the more insidious for that very reason."

    They said their goodbyes there, as Antilene returned to the room. When she entered, she found Agravaine waiting for her, intent on reading some book taken from the bookcase that was there. Judging by the cover, a story of chivalrous love.

    "You took a long time," her sister didn''t even look up, captured by a mesmerizing reading. "How did the meeting with the emperor go? Did he show you anything interesting?"

    "We can say so," Antilene headed for the bathroom that had already been arranged by Etienne. "We''ll talk about it later, okay? Right now I need to relax."

    The butler had been painstaking in his preparation. The water had reached a perfect temperature, and washed the sweat and fatigue off the half-elf''s body with ease. Antilene soaked for a few minutes longer than necessary, letting herself be lulled by the sweet sensation and reflecting once more on what had just occurred. Soap bubbles rose gently, to be swept away by her breath, in a childlike game.

    What would have happened if she had accepted Jircniv''s offer? Perhaps indeed humanity would have prospered as a whole under their leadership. Even if the future was impossible to predict, it was still true that the emperor''s logic made its own sense.

    Would the cardinals accept a possible union? Each generation had driven her to procreation, but always with state-sanctioned bloodlines and with the clear intent that any progeny would remain within and under the direct supervision of the Theocracy. Accepting something different would have been hard for them.

    Yet the most important thing was what she thought of all this. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not see herself settling down with a stranger, locked into a role and family she did not feel was her own.

    Antilene wanted to caress the wind, to visit unknown and unexplored places, in search of herself. Anything else would not have made her satisfied. It was not only a promise she had made to Rufus, but one she intended to keep to all those who had been good to her.

    Why settle for less when even the stars might have been within her reach? Once she asked what infinity could produce, the answer was only one: everything. And everything was what she would take.

    When she came out of the bath, she found Agravaine in a different position in which she had left her as she was approaching the small library placed in the far right of the room. Melody and Etienne were instead intent on preparing dinner.

    "So, are you ready to talk now?" Her sister had already put the book back in its place, looking for someone else to replace it. "Hum... nothing interesting. Just romance novels and old poetry collections. It''s like they want to keep their history and customs from us."

    "I wouldn''t be surprised if they were chosen by the emperor himself, who found them the most interesting reading for women like us," or maybe it had just been a coincidence. To think wrong is a sin, but most of the time it is a fortunate guess. "Was that novel you were reading so boring?"

    "I suppose it can have its audience," replied Agravaine, running her fingers through the covers of the other volumes present. "But love stories have never been my thing. Especially those where the two protagonists fall in love at first sight."

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Antilene nodded, sharing those remarks. She then went on to recapitulate to the elf everything that had happened just before, taking care not to omit any details. Even the two servants, given the modest size of the room, could not help but overhear.

    "The young emperor is very bold," Agravaine commented. Both had taken their places at the laid table that had been prepared for them. Melody and Etienne would eat later. "And so you refused?"

    Antilene brought a spoonful of steaming vegetable soup to her mouth. "What else was I supposed to do? Honestly, it put me in an uncomfortable position. If it hadn''t been so absurd, I would almost have thought it was a trap." The warm, comforting taste filled her cheeks, brushing away the last remnants of cold from her body. "What would you have done in my place?"

    Agravaine brought a hand to her chin, thoughtful. Then, after quickly tasting two mouthfuls of the soup -the high temperature of the dish seemed not to bother her- she replied: "I would not have done otherwise. But it is true that it puts you in a bad situation. You ran the risk of making a powerful enemy," or perhaps she had already done so, Antilene reflected, without uttering a word. "The emperor might have regarded your refusal as a declaration of hostile intent."

    "Ahhhh," the half-elf brought both hands to her hair, wrinkling it in a soft moan. "I don''t understand anything about politics. If he wanted my hand so badly, couldn''t he have challenged me to a duel like everyone does?"

    None of the others present pointed out to her that challenging one''s beloved to a sword duel was far from standard practice for marriage requests.

    "If I may," Melody interjected, as she handed the second portion of dinner to her mistress. Legs of pork browned in hot sauce. "I think you have acted impeccably, Lady Antilene. If that boorish emperor made you uncomfortable, it was entirely his fault! What would he have expected from such an unexpected request?"

    "But it is true that for nobility such requests do not follow ordinary protocols," Etianne ventured, not entirely convinced. "Not that I am an expert on the customs of humans, for goodness sake. Yet it is not a possibility to be ruled out."

    "It''s a pity there were no nobles in the Theocracy," huffed Antilene, letting her sigh ease his uncertainty. Her homeland had abandoned those customs years ago. "The great families have similar usances, but I have never cared much for them. If only they had covered this topic in the etiquette lessons they gave me recently."

    Not that she resented the Cardinals for that shortcoming. How could they have foreseen such an event? Certainly, in hindsight, it would have been more useful than knowing which fork to use in official ceremonies. The one with four prongs. Maybe.

    "The only thing I''m worried about is that my reaction may sour relations between the Theocracy and Baharuth," she continued, taking bite after bite with a finesse certainly not worthy of a Queen. If she had to judge her servants by their culinary skills, the rating would have been more than excellent. "If I were to cause a disaster given my disrespectful behavior, I don''t think I could ever, ever forgive myself. For at least a month."

    The others chuckled at the joke. Agravaine was the first to ask another question. "What should happen if the Emperor does not accept your answer? We are still in the heart of his territory," the elf nodded, which only Antilene caught. They both knew they were under constant surveillance, but avoided saying anything else so as not to alarm Melody and Etienne unnecessarily. "We may have to find our way with weapons."

    The half-elf considered for the beauty of a second what she had been told. In her mind''s eye, a battle played out between her and hundreds of guards of the same level as Leinas. The clarity of her subsequent reply was more than enough to reassure the mood.

    "Even if they tried to attack me, they wouldn''t stand a chance. Mind you, I can''t be sure what cards Jircniv holds, but I can venture that nothing should be too much trouble. Perhaps the famous Paradyne... But even if his abilities were to be superior to the Black Scripture spellcasters, that certainly wouldn''t be a problem."

    No, a physical confrontation was the least of her worries. Both she and Jircniv knew that in such an eventuality someone would be destroyed. And it certainly wasn''t her.

    "If they should try to harm Lady Antilene they will have to deal with me!" Puffed Melody with annoyance. Rather than a proud fighter, her expression reminded one of a funny little animal. Of course, if she or Etienne had been taken as hostages, what would Antilene have done?

    The half-elf preferred not to give herself an answer, as she was already aware of the cruelty she would have to admit.

    "Don''t talk nonsense, Melody," Etienne shot her back, hard in his gaze. "In such a predicament, we should confine ourselves to doing all we can to not be in Lady Antilene''s way. It would be absolutely disgraceful if our presence was in the way of our savior. Remember that our will is nothing compared to that of our Queen!" The maid merely paid him little attention, knowing that what she had been told was not wrong.

    "I apologize for Melody''s unseemly behavior, Lady Antilene," a bow as a gesture of apology, slightly bent to the right. By now Antilene had collected in her mind every different, at first glance imperceptible, way the butler carried out his excuses. "I promise it won''t happen again."

    Antilene dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Nothing to worry about," she said broodingly. "Always remember to stay close to me or Agravaine. I doubt you will be in any danger as long as you remain guests of the Emperor, but caution is never too much I suppose. In any case, I doubt it will happen until the ball is over. Too many prominent personalities will be gathered to allow anyone to venture anything untoward."

    Draconic Kingdom, Re-Estize, Holy Kingdom, plus others that now escaped her would be present. Risking a diplomatic incident at that time would have been too foolish a move for the Blood Emperor.

    "The Theocracy''s emissaries should also be present," Agravaine observed. Now that dinner was over, she was helping clear the table. "And with them some of your former comrades probably. As you said, we are unlikely to be attacked at this time, unless there is some secret weapon we are unaware of."

    Antilene avoided pointing out that in all likelihood many members of the Windflower or Clearwater Scripture were already present in the capital.

    "I doubt it. No, some kind of military conflict is really unlikely. Jircniv does not want to take me by force. His goal is to convince me to consciously take part in his project."

    She was quite sure of her assumption. Jircniv did not seem like someone unwilling to get his hands dirty, but he was not foolish enough to think he could cage her in and use her as he pleased. "The greatest risk I run is that he will kill me with long speeches."

    "The famous KingSlayer, killed by one word too many. Where the sword failed, language was deadly. How much shall her subjects weep for this!"

    Agravaine pretended to wipe away imaginary tears. As an actress she was shoddy, albeit certainly irreverent.

    "It has been a long day," said the half-elf, ignoring her sister. "And we have longer ones ahead of us. Better go and rest."

    It was said that the night brings advice. But Antilene''s sleep was devoid of any help. Serene and agitated at the same time, the Elf Queen quickly fell asleep, leaving today''s problems for tomorrow.

    Masakan Desert

    Hot. Muggy heat. Hot of sun, hot of fury. The sun''s rays were arrows shot with diabolical precision towards the skin. Sweat poured down their clothes, making them sticky and uncomfortable. Drops flowed slowly, starting from the forehead and tickling the most intimate parts of the body. A graceful, sensual touch started from the back and reached the hips. Slowly. So slow that one could follow its path.

    Aeneas took a sip of water. In that place, the most precious of treasures. Drowsy, but still flushed, the captain of the Black Scriptures widened his eyes at the sight of what unfolded before him.

    The city of Tel-Hoorusan before them, shining like a pearl in the desert. A labyrinth, with incessant buzzing of their stories of remote founders and inspired prophets, of unhoped-for treasures and unthought-of wonders, of curious devices and clever sorceries, of people with strange customs and women with different habits.

    The palace of the dune-riders stood in defense of its subjects. Its grandeur brought the blessing of shade to those under its protection. The golden contours enclosed the ardor of the solar flames within, the silver splendor of the surface enraptured the eyes of those who beheld it.

    "We''re almost there," Quaiesse, One Man Army, gave a specific order to the crimson owl they were flying on. The beast began to head gracefully towards one of the palace terraces.

    From above, Aeneas could observe what was happening below him, like a God judging his devotees. Men of different races, dark-skinned and light-skinned, were collaborating in cleaning up the streets, clearing away the rubbish that had accumulated and preparing equipment and supplies of various kinds.

    Groups ordered according to clear command hierarchies, in which everyone was aware of the role to be played and the best way to do it.

    "It seems absurd that until recently there was a war in this place," commented Rinaldo, sixth seat of the Black Scriptures. Shining Blade. "If I had not read the report, I could never have said that only a few weeks ago we were laying siege to this place."

    Aeneas found himself agreeing with his companion as he once again cast an eye downwards to that lower plane that seemed detached from his reality. "If there had been no traitors in the ranks of the enemy, it would have been much more difficult. Fortunately, the use of non-human troops backfired against the Diarchy."

    "Where would they have kept the prisoners?" Cassandra, One Thousand Mile Astrologer, asked curiously. She of all people present seemed to be unaffected by the high temperatures, remaining dignified in her poise. "I thought they kept them segregated in the palace dungeons, but I can''t sense anything but a few faint signals of magical energy. Certainly not enough for the number of survivors left."

    Other people, just outside the city walls, were intent on digging large pits where large sacks were thrown unceremoniously.

    "You have your answer," Quaiesse stated lapidary, landing towards the designated spot. When all four had disembarked, the Black Scripture tamer summoned his beast in a ring he wore on his finger not before caressing it gently and whispering kind words in its ear. "I hope you have enjoyed the journey," a sincere smile rose from his lips.

    Aeneas replied with a gesture of his head in approval. Then he walked towards one of the nearby doors, where a welcoming committee was waiting for them.

    "We are here to see General Bulgari," the captain did not even waste time introducing himself, knowing that his presence alone would be enough to make those men realize to whom his group belonged. The clothes they wore were proof enough of their position. "We know he is waiting for us."

    One of the guards nodded. He did not wear the usual uniform of the soldiers of the Theocracy''s army, replaced by clothes more appropriate for the arduous life of the desert, but the sign of the Six Great Gods embroidered on his cloak attested to his affiliation.

    The Black Scriptures were led into a room in the highest part of the structure. Once almost certainly a throne chamber, judging by the vestiges of antique and valuable furniture carefully stowed at the sides of the room, it had been quickly converted into a place suitable for holding war councils.

    When they entered, they found the general, an old but trustworthy-looking man, intent on discussions with various members of his retinue.

    Various voices were trying to make their way through the confusion.

    "We must conclude the conflict with the Diarchy as soon as possible, or the Golden King will attack us before we have time to prepare. We cannot withstand a conflict on several fronts."

    "The weather conditions impact the morale of our men. The magic of the priests succeeds in momentarily relieving the harshest conditions, but if we are to settle here for long we will have to provide effective solutions to combat the heat as soon as possible."

    "Supplies from the motherland have arrived in time, but we should ask for more before spring arrives or we risk being unable to move."

    "As for that important prisoner..."

    "Silence!"

    Gael Russells Bulgari knew how to be imposed upon. After noting the presence of the Theocracy''s chosen team, he briefly closed his eyes to reflect undisturbed. When he was ready, he gave his orders.

    "Galapo! Assigns each unit appropriate tasks for the construction of new structures suitable for life in the desert. Each lieutenant, second lieutenant and unit leader must be clear about the orders to be executed. Do not hesitate to relocate old buildings in the city where possible. Efficiency and speed must be our motto. Furthermore, make sure that surrendered enemies take part and are well included in the projects. We need to form cohesion as quickly as possible. Any discrimination must be severely punished."

    "Lusia! Gather the priests, paladins and all those who are able to use magic. Organize them into guard shifts for the creation of supplies suitable for the desert and water. Among their duties I also want a periodic check on the health of our soldiers. Should a disease be discovered, isolate the infected immediately, but see to it that they receive proper treatment. Our men must not be afraid to reveal weakness and fatigue."

    A pause. More to make sure his orders had been heeded, rather than out of weariness. The vitality of his words was like a river overflowing its banks.

    "Coedia! Prepare an inventory of what we have received and what we will need in the future. Do not hesitate to include in these lists even that which is not strictly indispensable. The Grand Marshal, with the approval of the Supreme Council, has given me carte blanche to request anything I deem useful for this war. Are there any questions?"

    A multitude of hands rose instantly. Unfazed, the general said, "They will have to wait. The council is adjourned a couple of hours from now. Clear your minds! We will meet again soon. May the Gods guide our actions!"

    After dismissing his entourage, General Bulgari was ready to welcome them. He too wore unusual clothes. An ankle-length dress with long sleeves, decorated with various precious filaments. Nevertheless, there were small remnants of the fashionable style of their homeland. On the chest had been embroidered, quickly judging by the quality of the stitching, a symbol depicting the effigy of the Earth God. The beard was kept with a shave bordering on perfection and the shoes were made of simple leather.

    "Aeneas, my boy! I find you in wonderful shape," they greeted each other with a familiar embrace, which could not hide the affection felt. "How many years has it been since we last saw each other? One? Two?"

    "Three," replied the Black Scripture captain. "It was when I faced that chasmfiend emerging from Lake Breyca. I am glad you are well too, General Bulgari."

    "Three years, how time flies. And what an incredible creature that was. I had never seen anything like it in all my years of service. But even more incredible was the way you disposed of it. Swing and swang and it was lying lifeless on the ground."

    It had not been as easy as that rough tale might have led one to believe, but Aeneas preferred not to contradict the man''s memory.

    The abyssal he had faced had been an unexpected anomaly, since their habitat was estimated to be in a large lake in the center of the continent. How it had come to the borders of the Theocracy was a mystery that had yet to be clarified.

    "But you people should be tired. Let me offer you something," the general opened a shelf of a bureau placed not far from the desk where the war council had been held until recently. From it he took out a glass bottle from inside which one could see water as pure as crystal and some snacks. "Nothing here is better than water. I also have wine or other drinks if you want. But this water is special. It is taken from an underground spring that flows beneath the palace, whose ability to withstand the heat is portentous. Please try it."

    Aeneas and the other three did not ask twice. Water flowed through their bodies, as if an injection of magical energy had just been administered to them. Suddenly, all the fatigue accumulated on the journey seemed to disappear, replaced by renewed vigor.

    "Incredible," both Cassandra and Rinaldo poured themselves a second glass, in disbelief. "It''s better than anything I''ve ever drunk." To move a usually impassive person like Astrologer, it meant that extraordinary prodigies were a big deal.

    "Where did you say you came from, General?" Quaiesse asked, no less incredulous than the others. "I have never heard of such miraculous underground sources."

    "Some chronicles we found in the city library call it one of the prodigies of the Eight Great Sinners. The whole region is littered with evidence of their passage like this."

    A blinding glow crackled from the side window, the daylight bidding its last farewells before retreating behind the setting sun. At the mere mention of the scourge of their God, the anger of the Black Scriptures began to erupt like a raging volcano. Murderous instincts ascended to the heavens like hymns of glory.

    General Gael swallowed for a moment, wondering if he had made a mistake.

    Regaining control of the anger caused by that involuntary reflex, the placid calm of their souls returned as naturally as if it had always been there.

    Aeneas apologized to the general, bowing his head to the floor. "Just hearing the name of our worst enemies mentioned reminds us of the grave sin and betrayal our country has suffered, making our hearts weep of sorrow," he said, with such solemnity that he could be mistaken for a high religious official. "Please accept our apologies, Lord Bulgari."

    Gael helped him to his feet. "You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact, it is I who must offer an apology to heroes like you. I disregarded your faith and was hasty in recalling the most hated adversaries of our glorious nation. Unfortunate behavior."

    "The important thing is to have cleared the air," added Quaiesse, of all seemingly the calmest. An appearance not corresponding to reality."I suppose in these areas there are many cults devoted to the worship of the Eight. It won''t be the last time we have to deal with them," the light from the rings he wore shone for a second, invoked by an unseen enemy. "In that case, we will have to be more cautious in our actions."

    "Anyway, what is the reason you requested our intervention, General?" Cassandra adjusted the frames of her glasses, leaving that brief exchange in the past. "I don''t want to sound rude, but judging by the situation, the war with the Talafest Diarchy is going excellently."

    The man''s face frowned. He started to say something, but the words seemed to die in his throat. It was only after he drank a second glass of that special water that he came to his senses.

    "The war with the Diarchy is actually going better than we had hoped. As you can see for yourself, we have captured one of the two capitals. Most of the enemy army has surrendered and we have employed most of the captured humans as additional troops for this campaign. Those who accepted our proposal at least."

    "As for the demi-humans?" Rinaldo asked, his blond hair flowing down the right side of his cheek. "I thought both humans and non-humans cooperated in these areas."

    "Have you seen the pits dug outside the city?" And there was no need to add more. "Not that we have eliminated all non-humans. Only those who had opposed our occupation. After all, we could not show ourselves too harshly towards them, at the risk of alienating even the humans who lived here."

    "Humans living with beasts. The south has really let itself go," Quaiesse commented, unable to help but voice his contempt. "I suppose, though, you have followed the most reasonable choice, General Bulgari. The Gods will forgive this sin."

    "I pray for that to be true," the man replied, perturbed by that decision. "In any case," he continued. "The war is not yet over. We have captured the ruler of Tel-Hoorusan, but the other capital, Musaaid Al-Lodi still holds out. And with it its king."

    "And do you think it may take long to conquer it?" Aeneas brought a hand to his chin as he asked the question. His scarlet eyes shone with ravenous curiosity.

    "Getting to the capital is the hardest part, these deserts are inhospitable to foreigners, and the local guides are not much help," the Theocracy''s army was used to conflicts in quite different fields. The disadvantage of poor knowledge of the terrain was becoming apparent. "And enemy troops are adept at disruptive actions that could slow down our march even more. Still, I am quite sure that once we overcome these problems, we would have no problem winning this war."

    "So you requested our intervention to pave the way for the main army?" One Man Army was already ready to get to business. Unlike the others there, he could have started heading towards Musaaid Al-Lodi at that very moment.

    "Not necessarily," General Bulgari pulled a letter from his desk and handed it to Aeneas. "A few weeks ago we received a proposal from the king of Musaaid, in which he asked that we resolve our conflict not with useless bloodshed but with a clash of champions."

    "Unusual request," the Black Scripture captain read the letter, which only confirmed what he had just heard, albeit in more high-sounding words. "There is talk here of a Sword Saint who should act as their representative. Do we know anything about him?"

    "Not much. Only that he is an exceptional warrior who has recently joined the royal court of Musaaid," having a little more information would have been perfect. But the Black Scriptures were used to working with little. "That is why I have requested your help. If we can win, we will not only save a lot of human lives, but also acquire a valuable resource useful for the next conflict."

    "What do you mean?" Aeneas asked. "I believed that once the Diarchy was defeated, the Theocracy could end the conflicts in this area."

    The man gathered in deep silence. "It was like that at first. But in the last few months a new competitor has come forward," the tone became graver and more worried. "He calls himself ''The Golden King''. He is the reason I assume the Diarchy decided to make this proposal to us. They know very well that they are next in his sights. The only hope they have to counter him is to join forces with ours. But the demi-humans will never accept that."

    "But should they lose the war in a lawful manner, it will be easier for the king to get this new alliance accepted," a grin of realization crackled on Quaiesse''s lips. "But that begs the question, what would happen if we were to lose?"

    The advantages of accepting that challenge were obvious. From this, of course, it followed that the risks were not few.

    General Bulgari, on the other hand, remained impassive, perfectly at ease. Sitting in a nearby chair, he crossed his arms, his trained muscles struggling to get out of his tunic. "We will simply have to retreat. In short, we will return to the situation of a few months ago."

    "Where''s the catch?" Cassandra asked, taking a tease from her bag. How everything that held the girl in there found room, Aeneas could not explain even with the banal answer ''it''s magic''! "Because in situations like these there''s always a catch."

    "None," there was no reason to doubt the general''s answer, no matter how strange it seemed at first hearing. "Or at least, we can''t find any. In fact, we suspect that the challenge was issued with the very aim of losing, for the reasons just discussed."

    "Is this Golden King so terrible?" For there was no other explanation for that unusual behavior on the part of the King of Talafest. Aenaes wondered if they had not got themselves into more trouble than they were in. "What is the Theocracy''s opinion on the matter? Do they intend to wage war against him as well?"

    Lately, it seemed that peace was more and more a pipe dream. They had not even had time to celebrate the death of the Elf King, that a new threat was appearing on the horizon.

    Aeneas suddenly felt fragile. Until that moment he had fought, struggled and spat blood and tears with the knowledge that there was someone behind him, ready to take his place should the need arise. Now, he was alone. Alone as he had ever been. Torn between a responsibility that gave no peace and a fear of failure that left no escape.

    That shadow that had always covered him and made him fearless was now so distant as to escape sight.

    He stifled those emotions. He was a machine. He had to be a machine. He could not show doubt. Not in front of his comrades. Not in front of General Bulgari. Not in front of himself.

    "The Supreme Council was categorical," as if newly awoken from a dream, the general''s words roused him from that daze. "For now, we must not engage in battle unless otherwise unavoidable, until the danger posed by this new ruler is made clear. This should change, however, if a certain condition should come true."

    "Don''t you mean..." Quaiesse was the first to understand what this particular circumstance was. His mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Dear Surshana. If that were indeed the case, we run the risk of facing a catastrophe."

    "Why don''t you make us aware as well?" Rinaldo and Cassandra asked in unison, slightly irritated by such secrecy.

    "Don''t you understand? Think carefully about where we are. Not many kilometers from here lies a very, very important place."

    Struck by a sudden realization, all the members of the Black Scripture were in turn shaken by incredulity.

    "The flying city..."

    "That''s right," the general confirmed to them, sharing their concerns. "We don''t know if that is indeed its goal, but the fact remains that it is a concrete possibility. As far as the scant information we have gathered reports, the Golden King presents himself as the rightful heir to the Eight Great Sinners. If he were to awaken what lies dormant in that place... I dare not even think about it."

    Certainly a gruesome possibility, agreed Aeneas. But there was one variable they didn''t seem to have considered.

    "Platinum Dragon Lord. The flying city is under his direct protection," he remarked, with newfound optimism. "To attack it is to attack him. If we''re lucky, we may find ourselves not having to face this new adversary at all."

    But General Bulgari did not seem to take the same view.

    "Indeed, what you say is true, but I don''t think things are that simple. What I''m telling you is an indiscretion from the Supreme Council, so I don''t need to tell you to maintain the utmost secrecy. For people in your position I expect no less," after receiving their nod of assent, he went on with his speech. "Tsaindorcus Vaision has not been seen for years. These may be unfounded suspicions, but what if he is no longer truly there? That is why it is imperative that we assess the situation well before we intervene."

    "I understand," Aeneas said. He needed to assess that flood of information with a cool head, but at first glance, it looked like a complicated situation. "So our short-term goal is to get the Diarchy on our side."

    "This way we will also have troops experienced in navigating the territory, and losing demi-humans troops will not be a waste," Quaiesse commented, not without a hint of cruelty. "Are you sure there is anything else regarding this Sword Saint? You might want to give us as much information as possible about our captain''s future adversary, General. To maximize our chances of victory."

    If indeed that Sword Saint was on his level, every bit of help would be indispensable, Aenaes reflected.

    ''But will that really be the case?''

    How long had it been since he had crossed paths with someone who could stand up to him? Only once, in his entire albeit short life, had he had such an experience.

    "Speaking of which. There''s someone I want you to meet. You know we have captured the ruler of this city," the Black Scripture captain recalled something like this. Indeed, it was only at that moment that the detail he had read in the report he received before leaving for the mission came back to his memory. "I would like you to meet that individual. I promised that I would assign a bodyguard to their person and no one is better suited to be your guide in these places. A quid pro quo, so to speak."

    Aeneas had the feeling that there was more he was not telling him, but said nothing. The general got up to call one of the attendants standing guard outside the room.

    "Idis will guide you to the city ruler''s room. I am sorry I cannot accompany you, but I have many other matters to attend to."

    "No need to apologize," Aeneas reassured him.

    "I expect to dine with you this evening. So you can also fill me in on the... situation."

    Hesitation. ''Strange,'' Aeneas thought. Perhaps an impression dictated by the heat.

    After being dismissed by General Bulgari, the Black Scriptures were led to a secluded room in the right wing of the palace.

    The attendant, Idis, opened the door, announcing them.

    "Who are you?"

    They were greeted by three handmaids, none of them human. One had the features of a cat, another a cobra and the last an alligator.

    "They are the guards the queen had requested," Idis explained calmly.

    "Let them in," a fourth person approached their group. This time it was not a demi-human. It was a young woman with a proud and magnetic gaze, on whose arms rested a feline creature with thick white fur.

    She had long braided black hair, in which small gems of various colors shone like morning light. Her skin was dark, sun-kissed. Hazel eyes fixed themselves on Aeneas, catching him in a hypnotic dance of stares.

    "Are you my new guard?" The woman did not flinch at the sight of the newcomers, but remained as calm as desert sand in broad daylight.

    "Yes. I am Aeneas, pleased to meet you."

    Thin lips joined in a confident grin at his reply.

    "Shaimaaa El-Aziz, Queen of Tel-Hoorusan." An indomitable voice, blazing like the most scorching fire. The luxurious robes she wore moved thanks to the arrival of a dry wind blown in through a window, revealing the toned figure of a warrior. "And you are from the Theocracy?"

    "Yes," a dry answer.

    Slap.

    Aeneas touched his cheek that had suffered the affront. More in astonishment than in pain.

    "This is the welcome given to your people!"

    What had seemed like an oasis to him had turned out to be a mirage.

    Aeneas sighed.

    This was not going to be easy.

 Chapter 36: A clash of mice (part. 1)

    Chapter 36

    A clash of mice, part 1

    Arwintar, Imperial Palace

    Dressed like that, Gazef felt like a clown.

    The trousers consisted of a pleated ''skirt'' about knee length, with a puffed trouser peeking out from underneath, fastened at the knees with ribbons. This included sumptuous decorations with dull-coloured silk tapes - at first the Queen''s tailor had insisted on more liveliness in the color scheme, but the captain''s resistance had miraculously managed to make him desist - and bows on the knees, stomach and around the waist. The lower trousers were trimmed with knee-length lace, as were the shirt cuffs and collar.

    He also wore a short, open-front doublet, under which a puffy white shirt trimmed with lace protruded. A brown jacket completed the ensemble.

    Had it not been for the sword hilt he wore around his waist, there would not have been much difference between him and the nobles who were gathering in the large hall set aside for the festivity. Tables were set and chandeliers formed rainbows of lights, welcoming him to a world that was totally different to what he was used to.

    "Something is troubling you, Sir. Stronoff?" Queen Draudillon was radiant in her red velvet gown. Gazef''s eyes were caught on the decoration depicting the symbol of the Draconic Kingdom, although different from the usual one seen in the official heralds. A stylised dragon whose scales shone in the colors of the rainbow, embroidered on the woman''s chest. "Are you not comfortable, perhaps, surrounded by all these people of high rank?"

    Slaine''s captain quickly averted his gaze, having noticed where his sight had landed. In part for performing that unfortunate act, in part for not letting the Queen notice his disturbance. "I''ve always been more comfortable in simpler places. Even as a mercenary I always let my superiors bargain with the local princes or lords who hired us. On my side, I would rather prefer to stay in the background, whereas here it seems to me that everyone does their best to grab attention."

    Both men and women engaged in long and apparently interesting conversations, each of them interested in establishing connections and establishing themselves as future partners for those present. His soldierly instincts, however, warned him that nothing in that place was as it seemed.

    The flamboyant beauty of the women was no mere play on empty vanity, but spider webs finely woven both to catch the attention of future suitors and to distract from what were the real intentions behind those sugary facades.

    Likewise, men did not flaunt wealth and success in vain exercises of vainglory, but to make themselves as attractive as possible to possible new business associates.

    In that labyrinth of acquaintances and words that concealed double entendres, themselves masking subterfuges, a peasant of humble origins like him seemed the proverbial fish out of water.

    "I understand you perfectly, Sir. Stronoff," the Queen chuckled, the lipstick on her lips making her even more charming. "I confess that even I can never quite fit in at events like this. If I manage to seem confident now, it is only because necessity dictated that I learn to disentangle myself in this nest of snakes."

    If it was a lie, Gazef found it reassuring. He thanked Queen Draudillon from the bottom of his heart for stooping to show such consideration even to one such as himself.

    "Now give me your hand," the fingers of the woman''s left hand extended gracefully, waiting to be grasped. "You are my knight, and I command you to behave as such!"

    That imperious tone was amused rather than authoritative. The man accepted that delightful order.

    "That''s better," the Queen commented, as their fingers intertwined. Gazef felt even the tip of his nose blush, but fortunately it seemed none of those present paid any attention as they walked down the central aisle.

    "Announcing Queen Draudillon Oriculus and her escort, Sir Gazef Stronoff!"

    The Emperor''s crier sounded like thunder in the midst of the storm, in all the confusion. But such was the strength of his voice, that silence seemed to have entered with them. Or perhaps it was the splendor of the Queen that provoked that reaction, especially in the men, even though some of the women did not seem to mind.

    The second option was by far Gazef''s favorite.

    "They are all looking at us," she whispered in his ear. "Maybe they are mocking an old woman posing as a princess," the tiara she wore on her head shone a clear, heat-bright light, making her auburn hair stand out.

    "I have no reason to think that," he replied truthfully. "And if anyone should really believe such a thing, I am ready to repay this shame with the sword!"

    "Take care not to soil your new dress. It would be a shame to see you soiled with blood in a lovely outfit like this," that friendly chortle seemed to have brought good humor back to the Queen''s face.

    They finished that awkward but not entirely unpleasant moment of introduction. Tables had been placed at the sides of the room, but there seemed to be very few who intended to use them. Instead, standing around to chat and make friends seemed the normal policy there, to Gazef''s chagrin.

    "Oh, Queen Calca is coming right now."

    Draudillon drew his attention to the newcomer. A woman with long golden blond hair and cyan eyes was walking the same path they had taken a short while ago. Dignified and graceful in her white dress, she sported a not too ostentatious smile that exuded confidence and warmth.

    "Who is the woman accompanying her?" But Gazef''s curiosity focused on the attendant. Short brown hair framed a face that would have been charming, were it not for the serious, uncompromising expression that did not hint at backing off. More than a human being, she appeared to be a guard dog keeping a close watch on her master. "Of all the women here, she is the only one wearing armor."

    "Remedios Custodio, grand master of the order of paladins of the Holy Kingdom," Draudillon gave adieu to his curiosity, as Gazef observed how that armored lady succeeded only by her presence to ward off any man who tried to approach Queen Calca. "They say her skill in the fighting arts is unmatched in the entire nation."

    Slaine''s captain was intrigued by that last statement. Judging by the way she moved, he considered that reputation not exaggerated. It would have pleased him to exchange a few blows with her. In a friendly way, of course.

    "Queen Draudillon, it is a pleasure to see you in such good form," Calca and Remedios had approached them, not without many male gazes aflame with desire moving in their direction. "Long time no see. I have heard of the grave situation in your kingdom and am deeply sorry that I cannot provide adequate support. Unfortunately, the Holy Kingdom is also under constant threat from demi-human incursions and our resources are tight.."

    In any other person''s mouth, those remarks would have appeared false and mocking, but spoken by Calca they appeared truly sincere.

    "It is also a pleasure to see you again," Draudillon replied, returning the other woman''s concern with a grateful expression. "Yes, things in the Draconic Kingdom are not going very well. But the luck is not entirely gone. Thanks to the help of exceptional people like Sir. Stronoff here we continue to endure. I cannot sufficiently express how grateful I am."

    When he realized he had been brought up, Gazef lowered his head, trying to hide the embarrassment.

    "Your praise is undeserved," his heart skipped a beat at hearing those compliments, but for how much he forced himself, he could not consider them to be entirely true. "It is only thanks to your guidance that even weak swords like mine manage to be useful in times of need. Do not underestimate your role in all this, for you would be making a regrettable mistake."

    "It is good to see that you have people you can trust, Queen Draudillon," Calca said. Was that a human being or an angel speaking? The differences from the celestial and the mundane at that moment appeared indistinguishable. "I myself could not have been more fortunate in receiving the blessing of such capable people at my side."

    It was obvious to whom she was referring. Drawn in, Remedios for a moment lost the hardness in her gaze, revealing a soft and unexpected kindness that struck Gazef.

    "My sister and I are the lucky ones to serve a magnificent ruler like you," those dark eyes that mimicked the sharpening of a sword, narrowed in a burst of devotion, not too dissimilar to what the captain had observed the inhabitants of the Theocracy perform when in deep prayer. "Your dream has given us something to put our lives on the line for! For that, we will be forever grateful!"

    In that brief interaction, there was more than mere respect. The tender love that only exists between long-time friends and that showed up at unexpected moments was evident even to someone as awkward as him. A bond made of mutual cooperation, the object of an envy he described as unexpected.

    Calca, probably used to that outpouring of affection, spoke softly: "No, it is I who thank you for putting yourselves at my service. If I am where I am now, I owe it also to your continued support."

    "Your words do me honor. I hope I can continue to be worthy of your trust," the paladin returned to her normal stiff expression. "Let''s cut to the chase," she said, her forehead twisted into a frown. "Sir. Stronoff," the harsh tone with which she apostrophised him might have sounded disrespectful, but to Gazef it was only evidence of the woman''s forthrightness. "Allow me to offer you my heartfelt congratulations on your heroic defense during the siege of Gelone''s fortress. Tales of your valor have reached even our lands. I am honestly amazed and in awe to meet you in person!"

    They shook hands, Gazef not entirely comfortable hearing that account. Him? He was nothing special. Why had his very name been spread to the four winds? If it hadn''t been for Captain Nigun, he wouldn''t even be in that place now. It was the Sunlight Scriptures that had to be celebrated as heroes.

    Feeling like an impostor walking among legitimate celebrities, he grew as small as he had never been before.

    "I do not deserve all these compliments," was not false modesty his, but a mirror of what he perceived to be the truth. "The courage of my men and all those who fought alongside me should be commemorated. I was just one of many who put their lives on the line to defend something they believed was important."

    "Humble," Remedios commented under her breath. "Humble. And maybe a little stupid."

    "I don''t think I heard you right."

    "Recognising one''s worth is important, Sir. Stronoff," interjected Draudillon, who had not been unmoved by the conversation. "I think Lady Custodio didn''t mean to imply anything malicious. It is simply strange to see someone of your caliber continually trying to discredit his own achievements."

    He could not see the strangeness in his behavior. If anything, it was that constant quest for exaltation that seemed out of place in his opinion.

    "Let me clarify. As Queen Draudillon correctly inferred, mine was not meant as an insult to you," the paladin scratched her right cheek in awkwardness. She was not a person accustomed to apologizing, Gazef thought. "It''s just that I find it peculiar to see someone try to elevate the merits of ordinary people so much. Such an action in our country would be viewed, I won''t say with suspicion, but certainly not favorably."

    Calca nodded in confirmation.

    "Some of the nobility would frown upon such conduct," the Queen of the Holy Kingdom added, not without a hint of regret in her words. "They would seek to destroy the author, lest his attitude lead to subversive conducts. Or they would seek to use him, raising him up as a model for the people, but under the direct control of those with blue blood in their veins."

    A target to be eliminated or a puppet to be maneuvered. Following that reasoning, their judgment of him had not been unfair. In fact, perhaps it had been far too generous.

    "Nevertheless," Remedios looked at him with such intensity that Gazef felt himself falter. The woman''s gaze burned more than the sun and stirred more than the current of the sea. A startling sensation at first, but one that was then replaced by a comforting feeling of security, after becoming accustomed to it. "I myself have been called stupid numerous times. And as much as I do not agree with your methods, I cannot help but find them undoubtedly appealing. As a commander on whose shoulders lie the lives of numerous subordinates, however, I cannot be of the same opinion."

    "What do you mean?" Gazef asked doubtfully.

    "I think it is better to adopt a tougher attitude towards those under our orders," she began to explain, without continuing to lose her composure. When she talked, she seemed to be the only person in the room, all the other nobles around them disappearing abruptly. "It doesn''t matter if I have to be hated for it. There is little room for friendship or good feelings on the battlefield. Don''t get me wrong, bonds between soldiers are extremely important. The lives of my men depend on me, and for that I am bound not to make even the slightest mistake. Insubordination or permissive behavior will not be tolerated."

    Inflexible.

    That was the definition that best suited that woman. To move her would have been like asking mountains to move, seas to rise.

    "I understand what you say, and I largely agree," he said, smoothing his chin. "Although I prefer to establish a bond based more on trust and mutual respect than discipline and order. A synthesis of our approaches could be the ideal solution."

    Remedios strangely brought her lips together in a thin line, which must have been a smile, however lacking in endearment it was. "In the end, the only thing that matters is the goal. The complete destruction of those who threaten our safety," her fists clenched. The sword she carried at her side shone with an imperceptible, blessed light. "Ours and that of those we protect. Do you not think the same, Sir. Stronoff?"

    Gazef had the impression that he was on trial, at the mercy of a judgment that would not be appeased by empty turns of phrase or vague assertions alone.

    "I have fought against the enemies that threaten humanity. Time and time again. Both when I was a mercenary in the south, and when I entered the service of Queen Draudillon," he paused for a moment, to gauge the reactions of the women there. The paladin continued to inspect him on every angle, from the height of his shoulders to the tips of his toes. "I am willing to offer myself whenever my services are required, without hesitation. I confess, however, that if another path is possible, one that would spare not only my people, but also those I now call enemies, pain and suffering, I would show no hesitation in taking it."

    Draudillon shook his hand, as if to indicate that she approved of these statements.

    "A world where no one suffers. That would be really nice, don''t you think, Remedios?" Calca''s eyes narrowed, caught by a sudden feeling of melancholy. But they immediately relaxed with renewed vigor. "I find myself agreeing with what you said, Sir. Stronoff. Our nation has forged bonds of friendship with certain demi-humans living in the seas around us. A sign that cooperation between different races is not impossible. One of them is even a member of our most capable warrior group."

    Demi-humans and humans who not only lived in harmony with each other, but even collaborated! Such a notion would not have been looked upon favorably in the Theocracy. At the mere thought of how his subordinates would consider such a prospect, Gazef was seized with despondency. He groped for the Fire Goddess''s symbol he used to wear on his chest, but only then realized it was not on his new suit.

    "What my Queen said is right," Remedios seemed to finally begin to relax. Always hard as a rock, perhaps more to herself than to others, she now however smiled shyly, revealing an unexpected charm. "Once again I am compelled to apologize. I know I may sound uncomfortably direct, but it is only because I am keen to assess those who stand before me. It is a habit that many times is mistaken for arrogance, although I can assure you it is only dictated by genuine curiosity."

    "I fully understand what you mean, Lady Custodio," he reassured her, awkwardly trying to communicate with body language that there was nothing to worry about. Failing. "If nothing else, it is reassuring to know that the Holy Kingdom has such an impenetrable shield ready to defend it. I would not mind, one day, drawing my sword along with yours."

    "Likewise," a found understanding could be a precious treasure. Remedios exchanged a look of understanding with Calca, who, like her, seemed delighted by the interchange. "Should we find ourselves in difficulty, we will know whom we can ask for help."

    "You are not attempting to pull my valiant knight from under my feet?" Draudillon joked, provoking an amused reaction from the other women. "It''s not easy to find people of such rare skill. If only they grew like fruit on trees, ready to be picked..."

    ''So I would be like an apple?'' Gazef wondered, reflecting on that analogy. What to think about that, he didn''t know.

    ''Well, Draudillon, you said it yourself. People like Sir. Stronoff are a rare find. I don''t see what''s wrong with trying to curry favor with a darling like him," the Queen of the Holy Kingdom teased her, receiving a dirty look in return. "Seriously, should you pass through our Kingdom''s precincts, don''t mind requesting an audience, Sir. Stronoff. And the same goes for you, Queen Draudillon."

    "And if you happen to mow down any demi-humans en route, all the better," Remedios added. Was that her way of jesting?

    "Ah, I need a drink," Draudillon drew the attention of one of the waiters wandering around, carrying an assorted selection of drinks on a tray. The Queen of the Draconic Kingdom chose a glass of red wine, which she began to taste slowly. "Ah, refreshing! Jircniv knows how to choose wines, I have to admit it. Won''t you take anything?"

    Calca opted for a glass of sparkling wine, while Remedios and Gazef made do with plain water.

    "So the rumors of your drinking prowess were true," Calca observed, not without first following the other woman''s example. "Liver of steel, that''s how I heard you being called in, admittedly, some unfavorable places. ''She who can delight in alcohol even in the most tragic moments''."

    Although there was no malice in what he had heard, Draudillon grew gloomy, in the grip of an unpleasant malaise.

    "I''m not surprised," but the mood returned serene in a flash, thanks to a fortitude that knew no surrender. "True, when times were hardest I found solace in the bottom of a glass. There will be joy even in agony with strong wine... no? But not for an instant did I let my vices take over my duties. Not for a moment. It would have been an affront to the hard work all my subordinates have done in these times."

    Was she talking about him? Gazef noticed that the Queen gave him a couple of glances full of gratitude, but he did not dare to think that there might be something more than a simple misunderstanding.

    "In any case," Draudillon continued, the tone of her voice proud and bursting. "It''s worth noting that when in command, or in any other position of power, are placed women like us, Queen Calca, the backbiting tends to be more... harsh. Not that it is a written rule. But I''m willing to bet that Jircniv or most of the male nobles here have a higher tolerance for alcohol than I do. But surely no one will point that out to them."

    "It''s a truth I have to live with myself," Calca found himself agreeing with her. To Gazef, the placid calm of the ruler of the Holy Kingdom seemed replaced by a lively ardor. "I have had the displeasure of hearing some insinuations that some malicious tongues spread about me merely because of my maidenhood," and as she finished saying those words an air Remedios''s expression grew -strange as it might be- even sterner. The paladin turned quickly to grab a canap¨¦ that was being served, almost causing a shock to the young waiter who was passing by. At least, she seemingly readjusted to the previous situation after that quick exchange.

    "Exactly!" Draudillon exclaimed, her blue eyes as serene as the sky. "And don''t think things would have been any different otherwise. When I was younger -not that I''m not now- I had to be constantly careful that my love escapades didn''t become the subject of gossip. King Ramposa was a vigorous lover when he was young, but I don''t recall anyone ever calling him ''The Slut King''."

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Gazef felt out of place in the women''s chatter. It wasn''t that he didn''t understand the meaning or didn''t share the reasons. But a fish out of water would have moved more nimbly than him in that situation.

    "Speaking of reigning women," fortunately for him, Remedios launched the discussion onto another topic. "What do you think of this famous KingSlayer? She should be making her debut any minute now."

    Indeed, by now the hall had filled up with almost all the guests. There were both the princes of Re-Estize and some representatives of the Union of City-States, as well as numerous other influential nobles from all parts of the Empire.

    On the sidelines, the Slaine captain also noticed a small group belonging to the Theocracy. Leading them was Cardinal Raymond, with whom he had exchanged a few words before being sent to the Draconic Kingdom, accompanied by a woman who wore the same type of robes as he did. Next to them was a young guy whose face was completely covered in ink-black tattoos and a gigantic man, in comparison to whom even Gazef looked like an infant.

    "I have no idea," doubt and another emotion crept into the folds of Draudillon''s gaze. "Certainly, if the stories about her are true, I wonder for what the hell reason the Theocracy didn''t think to put her in play before now. It''s fine to keep one''s secret weapon... well, secret. But how many lives they could have saved..."

    That emotion was anger. It was barely imperceptible, masked so cleverly that it could not be noticed unless one had been in close contact with Draudillon for days as he had. But that quivering on her nose... those hands struggling to maintain composure... her voice growing slower... it could not have been otherwise.

    But who was the ruler of the Draconic Kingdom really angry with? With the Theocracy, which had not used all its resources to save a friendly nation, or with herself, who had always had to resort to outside help to save all that she held dear?

    Gazef never knew the answer. Although he could unfortunately guess it.

    "What I care about," Remedios said, unconcerned about her interlocutor''s feelings. "It is the military prowess of this renowned KingSlayer and, above all, understanding which side she is on."

    "You''re not going to replicate your attitude just now, Remedios?" Calca''s intuition seemed spot on judging by the paladin''s embarrassment as she struggled to hide it.

    Gazef imagined the paladin making her way through throngs of curious nobles only to impetuously debut before the entire court of Baharuth and the Elf Queen.

    He held back an amused giggle, to avoid sounding rude.

    "Now, with permission, Remedios and I will head elsewhere. We have many more people to greet. I bid you my greetings, Queen Draudillon."

    "''And the same to you, Queen Calca."

    By now the room was packed with people. Gazef and Queen Draudillon followed Calca''s example and went off to give greetings to several other important personalities. Between a count and a duke, they found themselves conversing with the Re-Estize delegation.

    Of the three siblings present, only Princess Renner made a more significant impression. She was as radiant as he had heard and, judging by the way she conducted an amiable conversation with Draudillon, also a person of marked intelligence and personality.

    The other two - Prince Zanac and Prince Barbro - gave him a completely different feeling. Especially the latter. He judged him as a poor sheep doing his utmost to appear like a proud lion, but whose roar lacked real authority and might.

    Rude to both servants and other individuals of his social standing, he seemed like a balloon full of air ready to burst at any moment.

    Flanking the princess of Re-Estize was a youthful-looking knight. Still a young boy, he would have been incredibly out of place between all the other men-at-arms had it not been for the shining breastplate he wore and carried with dignity and respect, like the most precious of treasure.

    "Are you alright?" Gazef asked him, noticing an agitation that was struggling to be controlled. "If you''re nervous, you have nothing to worry about. I too feel like a helpless little dog in the midst of wolves."

    The young man teased his fingers, perhaps astonished by that unexpected consideration. "I cannot understand what a commoner like me is doing in a place like this. I''m afraid of making the princess look bad just by my presence alone."

    Devotion to one''s sovereigns seemed to be at home in that place. Unlike Remedios who was certain of her abilities, however, the knight of a few winters seemed in the grip of doubts that Gazef knew all too well.

    "If your princess has chosen you, it means she considers you a trustworthy person," he offered him a glass of water to help steady his nerves. "Be proud and act accordingly. Your abilities have been recognised and it would be disrespectful not to value them."

    With that advice that seemed aimed more at himself than the boy, Gazef got an uncertain smile in acknowledgement.

    "May I ask you a question?" Polite and straightforward. If one was to judge a book by its cover, first impressions were great. "You are from the Draconic Kingdom, are you not?"

    At the affirmative answer, the young man''s emotion became charged with surprise. Lighting up like a stellar night sky, the tone of his uncertain voice was replaced by one filled with admiration.

    "You are then the famous Gazef Stronoff? The one who repelled an invasion of Beastmen? I am a great admirer of yours!"

    "That pleases me greatly," if he had understood one thing from that day, it was that he could cash in on sword slashes better than he could react to compliments.

    "My name is Climb," no surname or suffix, a symbol of the boy''s humble origins. "It is a great honor for me to make your acquaintance! I hope you will not be offended to know that you have been a great role model for me, along with the former Warrior Captain of the Kingdom. Every day I train with the clear goal of only being able to touch your great feats!"

    "No offense taken. On the contrary, I am grateful," when, exactly, had he lost that enthusiasm that characterized Clim? In the knight, Gazef saw again a younger version of what was now a tired, old man but, at the same time, was imbued with an energy he did not know he had. A desire to prove himself, that that past ardor had not disappeared, only slumbered. "Compliments like this only entice me to give even more of my best, with the hope of one day living up to the expectations of enterprising young men like you."

    "May I address a perhaps unexpected request to you?" An unjustified, but understandable shyness. Gazef opened his ears wide, inviting him to speak. "A rehearsal battle with me, if you have time after the ballet. Not that I believe I can even be your equal," he hastened to quickly wave his arms, to avoid any misunderstandings. "I just want to know how much further I have to go before I can touch the top."

    "If there''s a chance, why not?" He couldn''t remember exactly when they were supposed to leave again, but he was pretty sure they would stay another couple of days after the ball. Finding a snippet of time to fulfill the boy''s wish would not have been impossible. "But be warned. I won''t stay just because it''s a simple exercise. There is a risk that you could get very hurt."

    "I can''t ask for better!" Climb''s soul blazed. They both shared a belly laugh, the seed of a newly planted friendship.

    "I see you have made a new friend, Sir. Stronoff," Queen Draudillon interjected, approaching him. Evidently, she had finished his conversation with Princess Renner, and judging by the puffs of tiredness the woman emitted, it had not been very pleasant. "Ahhh. Every time I talk to that little girl, I feel like a fool. That way she has to turn her head after saying something unconscionable as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Is it me or is she the crazy one? I don''t know... I don''t know."

    "You look tired, Your Highness."

    "I''m just remembering how difficult events like these can be," if for Gazef that was just a way to make new acquaintances, for Draudillon there were numerous interests to keep in mind whenever she approached someone. He dared not even imagine how challenging it could be to always have a nation''s destiny and future in mind. "And the guest of honor has yet to show up. I just wonder if..."

    "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming."

    The woman did not have time to finish her sentence when she was interrupted by the ringing voice of the Emperor of Baharuth, placed near stairs adorned with expensive decorations that evidently served as an honored entrance.

    "I know you have had to wait a long time, and for that I apologize. But now that you are all gathered here, let me introduce tonight''s exceptional guest. The new Queen of the Elves, also known as KingSlayer and Devastator of Armies. Antilene Heran Fouche. Give her a round of applause, everyone!"

    The sound of clapping became incessant as a graceful girl descended the red carpet that had been rolled out on the staircase.

    Enclosed in a long black dress that reached to her feet, wearing a pair of heels of the same color, over a white tunic, she drew all gazes to herself, like sweet honey attracting a flock of bees.

    Her hair was of an unusual coloring, part pure white, part deep black, entwined in a ponytail where the two tones merged in a vortex of contrasts that first joined, then parted in a divine and celestial dance with a rhythm that was now calm, now decisive, now explosive.

    The expression on the face was serious and austere, but devoid of other emotions. Indecipherable. But the eyes... even the eyes replicated that exact same light and darkness pattern. Secrets of life and death in that gaze that seemed from another world.

    There was no mystery to be revealed, therefore, in the fact that each of those present, when the figure of the newcomer stood out, ceased all clicking noises, in the grip of the greatest astonishment. Draudillon also shared the same fate.

    And such a fate would have befallen Gazef himself, if his attention had not been caught not by the Elf Queen but by the elf woman who accompanied her.

    <hr>

    A sea of eyes watched her in the shadows. Faceless faces, whose glint of probing stares were the only thing she could make out.

    Where had she ended up? In that place she did not recognise, surrounded by people who were not her own? Friends, enemies, had ever mattered as much as it did then?

    Darkness was no more as she descended that staircase towards hell.

    Wraiths who had decided to cover themselves with human flesh, disgusting and aberrant parodies of human life, writhing, moving in grotesque imitations of regular movements.

    Antilene shook the hands of noblemen and noblewomen, over and over again. Words, words that never ended. In front of her, she could not see the end of the hall stretching into infinity, as the steps continued on a catwalk where only she went on.

    What would she eventually reach?

    Voices moving over other voices, speaking an unknown language. She heard and listened to what they said, stored it in her mind and immediately discarded it.

    Emptiness. The abyss was empty. You looked inside and understood that from the beginning there was only one thing: you.

    They had raised you to a blasphemous idol, a curse to focus their interests on.

    The half-elf was their savior, and their tormentor.

    The long shadows of the nobles forced the dream into a circle of voices. Then she saw that darkness change into a comet, and the stern faces became stone, their arms outlines of branches, calling her to herself, in the motionless gestures of another life, a life that was not her own.

    ''Stop talking to me. Stop looking at me. Stop listening to me.''

    A novelty to be explored and then abandoned. What could that crowd see in her?

    What was true didn''t matter. What was a fabrication, could be attractive.

    She hated them. She didn''t know them, but she hated them.

    Antilene hated being the object of their desires, their hopes, their ambitions. She hated those false smiles, passing off fraudulent intentions as requests for friendship. She hated those flattering compliments, born of envy and resentment.

    And most of all, she hated herself, for she had become the central attraction of that masquerade.

    To her who sought the reason for the deception expressed by those faces, she was offered only a restless memory, among the remains of a collected dream, which now seemed reality, now fantasy.

    "Is everything alright? You look pale."

    "I''m just not used to being in close contact with all these people, that''s all," she reassured Agravaine, as deep breaths were taken to calm herself. "How long have we been here?

    "It won''t even have been ten minutes," her sister replied, motioning to other guests still approaching to give them some space. "Do you think you can make it or do you want to take a break?"

    "I''m fine. I just need to get some air."

    To the dismay of the other nobles who were still waiting their turn to make her acquaintance, the half-elf made her way to one of the adjoining balconies, stepping out onto a nearby terrace.

    ''Why am I here? What am I doing in this place?''

    If only the stars could have given her an answer. But they remained in contemplative silence, while her pleas remained lost in the silence of the night.

    "I know you are here, show yourself! Before I lose my patience."

    The darkness took texture, revealing a man in a tight red suit reinforced with shining metal plating all over his body. At his forearms and shins, white bands waved lightly cradled by a gentle breeze.

    "I did not wish to inconvenience you, Lady Zesshi, but Cardinal Raymond ordered me to follow you, to be sure nothing serious had happened."

    The twelfth seat of the Black Scriptures, Heaven and Earth, bowed down on his knees in respect, taking care not to direct his head protected by that strange helmet in her direction.

    "I just needed a moment to myself, that''s all," though a little annoyed, she was nonetheless grateful for the concern that had been shown to her. "Are you sure you can show yourself here? If you were discovered it could be a problem."

    "I''m pretty sure there shouldn''t be a problem," he replied confidently, but without the presence of haughtiness. "This isn''t the first time I''ve infiltrated the Empire, and no one has ever been able to sense my presence. Even during this reception, I was perfectly invisible to everyone except you, Lady Zesshi. Or shall I call you Queen Antilene now?"

    The half-elf wondered how Jircniv would take that news, unable to help but be amused by that possible answer.

    "Antilene will do just fine for the moment. We are old comrades after all," even though it now seemed like a lifetime had passed. More events had happened in a few weeks than in decades, for time knew how to be foolishly capricious. "So who are the attending members of the Theocracy besides you and the Cardinal?"

    With all that confusion, she had not even had time to notice which of her old countrymen were present. Alah Alaf would have forgiven her for that sin?

    "Besides Cardinal Raymond, Cardinal Berenice is also with him. As bodyguards Strongest Human and Divine Chain have been chosen from the currently free members of the Black Scriptures," he stood up, finally starting to stare at her straight on. "And me, of course."

    "Of course," she turned her gaze to see if her absence had been noticed. The Emperor of Baharuth and Agravaine held back the nobles'' incessant questions. From their point of view, the Elf Queen was probably an ill-mannered lady who had preferred to spend her time talking to herself rather than having deep discussions with them. If their opinions had mattered to her at all, she would have been almost regretful. "Oi, Giunio," the assassin was taken aback upon hearing his name, pulling back in surprise. "Don''t you think I''m out of place among those high-class people? I just look like a clown there for their delight. Watch the freak perform for you, and laugh! Applaud, at the monstrosity posing as one of you!"

    "I don''t want to hazard any rash judgments," he said, running a hand over funny little green tufts that acted as the ''hair'' of the protection he wore. "But I think you are being too hard on yourself. Are you sure there isn''t something else bothering you and who is preventing things from being seen clearly?"

    "Something troubling me huh," he might have been right, but she couldn''t find a satisfactory solution to that query. "Maybe I should never have left the Theocracy."

    "Do you think that returning home, to your old abode, is what would make you happy? He asked innocently. Someone of his profession was used to getting to the point.

    No.

    It would not.

    "I''m going back in," strangely, that had been enough to calm her down. Just talking. That was all. "I guess this is goodbye for now."

    "Should you need my help, please feel free to contact me, Lady Zesshi... Antilene."

    The assassin returned to the darkness, and the half-elf returned to where she had been until some minutes ago.

    To the nobles who approached in curiosity, Antilene merely explained summarily that she had been taken ill for a short time and was now feeling better. Although it was certainly not a sufficient explanation, the new Queen of the Elves did not worry too much. She saw Jircniv grinning smugly, as if he had already anticipated the victory of their little ''challenge''. She promptly ignored him, heading towards her sister.

    Agravaine was engaged in conversation with a man whose tanned skin stood out as an unusual sight in that place. Standing upright, he could have blended in perfectly with one of the columns that supported the hall.

    "Am I disturbing?" The elf opened her mouth slightly when she saw her sister coming, while the mysterious interlocutor stiffened. Antilene noticed that he wore a short sword attached to his waist, a symbol, in that place and occasion, of his membership to the warrior class. "I didn''t want to interrupt something important, just to make sure everything was going well."

    "No, indeed," Agravaine tightened her lips, trying to keep a straight face, but the symbols heralding insolent laughter were all too obvious. Her sister''s cheeks were engaged in a tittering effort to not explode. "I''ve just been boarded with the oldest trick in the book. This charming gentleman... excuse me, can you tell me your name again?"

    "Gazef Stronoff. Current guard of Queen Draudillon Oriculus, ruler of the Draconic Kingdom," a terse introduction. But it was the first time the half-elf had heard that name. Or was it? Unfortunately, memorizing what her mind perceived as trivial details wasn''t her most remarkable skill. "It is a great privilege to make your acquaintance, Lady Antilene. Stories of your great deeds have reached even this humble villager''s ears," having said that, he knelt down with an ungainly, but no less heartfelt, motion.

    It had to be admitted that the supposed warrior knew how to make himself liked. There was an unusual kindness in the way the man posed himself to others, which made it easy to approach him as if he were an old friend one had known forever.

    "Sir. Stronoff it is," the elf proclaimed with a friendly smile, a sign that there was no hostility in her words. "As I was saying, Queen Antilene, this gentleman approached me on the pretext of asking if we had met somewhere before."

    "Scandalous! I didn''t think my lady-in-waiting was capable of kidnapping hearts as deftly as she shoots arrows from a bow. Not that I expected otherwise..." The half-elf puffed out her chest in a gesture of only apparent pride, for that achievement was also hers. "I must be doubly grateful, though, Sir. Stronoff, as I never thought I would find anything even older than the two of us in this young royal court, but my skepticism has been swept away by the boldness of your approach techniques. I have to offer my thanks and then my thanks again to someone who didn''t have me to remember the unpleasant truth that I am an old hag."

    Indeed, only the imperial mage could have sported that boast, as far as Antilene information about the Empire went. Fortunately, she had not had the pleasure of meeting him; from what she had been told he abhorred official occasions such as this. To find out that she was older than a man renowned not only for his magical abilities but also for his wise and revered appearance would have been a blow to her self-esteem.

    "I think there''s been a misunderstanding," the soldier tried to explain, with a shyness unusual for that mighty body. "Mine was not a clumsy attempt to impress Lady Agravaine... Not that I don''t find her charming, of course..." he lost his train of thought after the elf''s smug reaction to those last words, but it didn''t take him long to find it again. "I have no way to prove it, but I am sincere when I say that in her I saw an old acquaintance of mine, a person to whom I owe much. Indeed, forgive my impertinence, Lady Antilene, but I notice a small resemblance in you too, now that I can look at your features more closely."

    He seemed strangely honest, which is what attracted the half-elf''s curiosity. The best liars were the one who could make their falsehoods an impossible hypothesis for the listener, but hell knew if it wouldn''t have surprised her if what he told them was just a scam.

    "And does this mysterious acquaintance of yours have a name?" Waiting for an answer, Antilene grabbed a pastry the waiters were serving, before her stomach could embarrass her. With all the fuss, she hadn''t put anything under her teeth for more than half a day and now the results of fasting demanded satisfaction.

    "I''m afraid I don''t know it," he huffed, more sorry for not being able to give a satisfactory answer than for his ignorance. "But I owe him a great debt, which I hope to repay one day. If I am here today, and not buried somewhere in the Masakan Desert, I owe it to him alone."

    He came from the south, then. That explained his darker complexion. Unusual, but not entirely so rare. The same place Aeneas had headed for, if she wasn''t mistaken. Perhaps it was true that the Gods did not play dice.

    "I''m sure you will one day, Sir. Stronoff. Much sooner than you think, I dare say," Agravaine''s was no mere attempt at comfort, but sounded an almost mathematical certainty. How was that possible? An idea flashed through the half-elf''s mind. "The important thing is to have faith, isn''t it? The Gods hear our prayers, even if sometimes they need a little nudge."

    "Yes, you are right," the desired result was achieved in any case, as Gazef became more relaxed. "I demand your forgiveness for disturbing you over such a futile matter. Impulses prevailed over reason."

    Antilene was on the verge of saying that these excuses were unnecessary, when they were joined by a woman who stood between them.

    "I hope my knight was not too rude," she said. Long auburn hair fell loose over shoulders that rose proudly. "Though knowing Sir. Stronoff, I would be surprised if that were the case. By the way, let me introduce myself, Queen Antilene. I am Draudillon Oriculus, ruler of the Draconic Kingdom. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

    Maybe all that was just a parade to make the Queen''s introduction more memorable, Antilene reflected.

    "The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty!" A greeting that embraced formality with complacency. The two Queens smiled, both because they didn''t know what other way they could communicate, and because they couldn''t help themselves. "I have heard much about you. I am glad to know that your territory is safe now."

    Blue eyes mirrored her duality. Placid and serene at first, a reflection of the beauty of the sea, they stirred and moved as churning water engulfs the gorges, retreats and rises until it swells on the hollow of the wave.

    "All this was only possible thanks to the precious help I received from valuable friends. It is above all thanks to the intervention of your country that I am now here, and not in the stomach of some beastly man," a deep gratitude that clashed with a gushing denigration. But aimed at herself, not at others. Antilene read in that seemingly confident woman a desert whose grains of sand were made of regret. "My achievements are little, especially compared to those of the KingSlayer, Your Majesty. A Queen who is unable to defend her people is just an incompetent who deserves to be dismissed."

    Sadness flew into her arms like a little swallow, and her fingers like tears, moving from eyelash to throat, suggested to her face the tenderness of an almost begged remorse.

    "Is it really so?" Antilene''s question intercepted the rebuttal Gazef was about to make. The knight silenced, waiting. "I am not an expert in matters of government, quite the opposite. What I have been taught, however, is that each of us has qualities that we are bound to make the most of. Qualities that are adapted to specific situations. It would be unfair to ask a guard to do accounts, a merchant to defend the kingdom against external enemies. Following the same reasoning, the task of a ruler is to govern. And in this, if the reports I read about you were true, you were commendable."

    Even the army composed of the greatest warriors would have had difficulties if there were no capable commanders to coordinate their movements and define their strategies and tactics.

    "Queen Antilene is right," Gazef exclaimed in agreement. "I can speak for all my men, and all the soldiers I have had the pleasure of fighting with, when I say that we are all ready to lay down our lives for you! And this only because your leadership has been excellent!"

    Self-sacrifice did not arise out of nothing, but was a natural reaction to elements that triggered it. Devotion came with respect. And respect was earned with effort.

    "The travails of war sometimes make me forget how lucky I am to be still alive. But I thank the Gods every day for the blessing of the ones at my side" the woman adjusted a few strands that fell across her forehead, regaining her good humor. A ray of light amidst the darkness dispelled the somberness. "It was not my intention to afflict you with my worries. Rather, tell me, what are your intentions now that you have also become part of royalty? You must have numerous plans, I imagine. I admit that the current situation in Evasha''s forest is not very familiar to me."

    How to explain that the same applied to her as well? Antilene tried to gloss over that last part. "I don''t have many at the moment. I''m still trying to determine the best way to exercise these new responsibilities that have literally rained down on me from the sky," a cold shower from which she had not yet fully recovered. "Seeing the wonderful example shown by people like you, Queen Draudillon, is certainly inspiring."

    "It would be nice if you too became a capable ruler like her," Agravaine added, somewhat oddly wistful. They both knew it would never happen, but evidently her sister still held vain hopes. "However, it would also be ungrateful to ask more of you than you have already done."

    "Your words flatter me," Draudillon mormored embarrassed, but without failing to show a hint of complacency. "Why do you not visit me in the future? It would be pleasant to receive such a distinguished figure at my court. It is modest, but it can be welcoming," she raised her arms, caught by an unpleasant realization. "Not that I ask that only to receive your military aid."

    "The thought didn''t even cross my mind," Antilene lied. But she didn''t care so much. Killing a few demi-humans wouldn''t have been too demanding a task in any case. "I will treasure your offer, Queen Draudillon. In fact, it is in my plans to travel nearby, to continue my education in the arts of government."

    "I''m counting on it, then!"

    They said goodbye with that promise to meet again. Gazef faithfully followed his lady, addressing a lowering of his head as a greeting.

    "They seemed like nice people," Agravaine commented, adjusting the hem of the green dress she was wearing.

    "Yes, we will have to try to keep our word," agreed Antilene, feeling exhausted. "All these introductions are energy-draining. I could use a refill."

    "You''ll have one soon," that sardonic smile did not portend anything good. "You''d better get ready."

    "What do you mean?"

    "The dance is about to begin."

    "Ah..."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Beta readers: hackslashback, whostolemytea

 Chapter 37: A clash of mice, part. 2

    Chapter 37

    A clash of mice, part.2

    Arwintar, Baharuth Empire

    Antilene found herself surrounded. Assailants from all sides were trying to trap her. She was alone, she was frightened.

    Was there no way out, in that hellish place? A devilish bedlam had gathered around her, the air became thin and her breathing felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment. The half-elf would kick away a would-be suitor -not literally, of course- trying to wriggle out of that death grip, only to get another one take his place.

    "Queen Antilene, would you do me the honor of this dance?"

    "Queen Antilene, give me a chance to show you how the nobles of the Empire enjoy themselves."

    "Queen Antilene, listen to none of them and be my lady for this evening."

    Not out of vainglory, nor out of any other sense of superiority, but each of those indecent proposals sounded to her ears like a mockery to her detriment, an invitation to disaster where she would be the cause of that ruin.

    Was unjustified paranoia the cause of that discomfort? Or had her senses picked up on something in her innermost self that she did not want to admit?

    "I find myself forced to refuse," she explained with such candor as to amaze even herself. Empty turns of phrase were avoided in that rhythm that had yet to begin. "It would be unbecoming for me to be seen with those who already have a companion."

    The music became slower as the center of the room slowly began to throng with dancing couples. Love, friendship or simple social conventions came together in that mingling of bodies that masked forms, leaving the naked eye only with the sight of a conglomerate of shadows that were lost in echoes of laughter and smiles that concealed something mystical, profound, senseless.

    Positions that changed as soon as the eyelashes closed, the darkness that shifted the reality not even giving time to acclimatize to the vivid music that, incessant and deep, melodious but also so chaotic, so deafening as to seem silence, covered the room like a linen veil delicately enveloping a now dead body.

    ''I have scrutinized what immaculate darkest lies within the bodies of living beings, observed like a diligent scholar the moment when life lets go, to make way for death. But confronted with all this, I cannot remain impassive. Fear woos me as serene zephyrs court the evening.''

    For she who had painted heaven and earth of a scarlet red, this should have been a mere formality, a barely imperceptible impact for a mind accustomed to the harshest atrocities of the human soul. Yet, strange as it seemed, in that violence she had seen a hard and pure truth that now seemed far away.

    A truth that in that blinding, untruthful light she could not discern now, as the notes slipped gracefully through the pianist''s sharp fingers and the violin strings scrambled to try not to give way, as if they were aware that the moment those sounds stopped, the magic would vanish, the dream fade away and all those in the grip of that happy illusion would wake up, caught up in the knowledge that the reverie had come to an abrupt end.

    "Please, make way," and here he approached, making his way among those who were his subjects. In a crimson dress, silk so precious that it would be plausible to think it had been woven with real drops of blood to keep the hue as authentic as possible. Violet eyes, amethysts plucked from the vault of heaven by the God Imirduo himself, to give that face carved in pure alabaster a grace that was not of that world. "Queen Antilene, will you allow me to accompany you in this dance? It does not befit a woman of your position and beauty to be alone on such an occasion."

    He offered her his hand, in an invitation they both knew it would be too disgraceful to refuse. For positions as theirs required fitting etiquette. Customs stuck to the neck like slimy leeches to suck out any semblance of well-being.

    Antilene could not help but notice the paleness of his palms, so devoid of imperfections and pure as to be dazzling. They were as white as her own, but at the same time so different, so foreign.

    They were not hands that had taken a life, like hers. They were not hands that had soiled themselves with the filthiest things in the world, breaking bones and butchering flesh, wielding weapons and shattering hopes. They were not hands that had known cramps and fatigue, nor begged for rest and quiet. They were not the hands of a murderer.

    "With pleasure," the invitation was accepted, the pact sealed. Fingers brushed against each other to intertwine in an embrace that had the feel of anguished oppression. Was it not unfair that there was such a difference between those who gave terrible orders and those who carried them out? Bloody Emperor sounded like a mocking title at that moment.

    ''Why do my veins seem to throb so much, while his are so calm?'' Antilene could see them moving, in step with the music, in malicious derision. A warning that only she could perceive, that never left her alone. If Jircniv lived with an inner turmoil similar to hers, he was more adept than she at not letting it show. Was vulnerability a familiar concept to him or just an alien knowledge? "You will forgive me if my movements do not match yours. But this is the first time I am exposing myself in such an official and ceremonious context."

    ''And it is also the first time I have found myself with a partner who decides to entertain me,'' she avoided saying. Not out of shame, but only out of a foolish pride that did not desire her to be pitied again.

    Show weakness? Why not allow those snakes to bite her while she was at it? The venom of the slanders was already beginning to course through her blood streams.

    "I''m sure there will be no need. I myself am a barely sufficient dancer. Certainly not as good as many of the nobles here." A lie whose purpose was placed at a crossroads, from the half-elf''s point of view. A sincere desire for comfort in a vulnerable moment? Or a malicious insinuation intended to humiliate her once her ineptitude was shown? "Follow in my footsteps and the fun will be guaranteed." Something sure, as sure as Surshana.

    "I will try to trust your words." But if Antilene could imagine the scythe, the same could not be said of the reaper. "So that my fall will be even more ironic, the moment it occurs." Because it would occur, she would put her hand on it.

    Jircniv replied with a cheeky grin, his nose wrinkling in annoyance at that remark. "If it happens, I''ll be here ready to catch you." With those slender arms, he couldn''t even lift a flower, let alone her. A comment that was better left unsaid.

    Her heels clacked on the floor with the cadence of solemn murmured strains of a prayer raised to heaven in time of dire need, ominous drops that promised a new symphony. The other guests assumed seraphic faces, posing as angels ready to take up those invocations, and grant these wishes born from anguish. However, in Antilene''s unjust judgment, behind all this apparent hospitality a shadow of hypocrisy lurked there. Rotten demons using misguiding light to hide their wickedness, their rancor, their impurity. Nor even Alah Alaf''s blessing could touch that God''s Forgotten palace.

    They arrived at the heart of the hall, for any other position would have been unthinkable, indeed, inconceivable for the Emperor of Baharuth and his new host. Put yourself above everyone, and the inferior will accept your position, unable to contemplate a different world.

    And it seemed to the half-elf that she was on a stage built especially for her. She had the impression that the illumination was writhing, focusing its cold heat only on them, making her rise to an unwanted limelight.

    Jircniv''s breath was so close it could almost be touched, as it was something solid on the verge of making contact with her. They began to move, while the music continued incessantly.

    "So, Queen Antilene, what do you say so far about this reception? Was it to your taste?" Unsteady, rapid steps, symbols of an off-key rhythm. Inelegant and awkward, harmony doomed to eternal damnation. "What you saw tonight was only a small part of the elite of Baharuth and the surrounding kingdoms. Small, but significant. You should have been able to get an idea of the abilities of each of those present."

    The flow became more uncertain. She nearly crushed the Emperor''s foot under her heels. Amusing as it was, it would not have been the best debut in society.

    "There are many people I have not yet been able to meet. If His Imperial Majesty will allow me a rash comment, the political skills and ability to disentangle oneself in the high society of the other guests are far superior to those in my possession." One step to the right and then one to the left. She repeated that simple movement, a number that soon proved annoying to calculate.

    The normality with which Jircniv managed not to get lost in that ordeal irritated her, but the realization that that difference had been dictated by upbringings imparted far too differently was a consolation. If that young man with far too much blond hair had been thrown into the middle of a fight, how would he have reacted? "There are still many things I have to learn, for my ignorance knows no bounds. Knowing how to draw a sword is not the same as being able to administer with efficiency and impartiality. But I am sure you are more aware of that than I am."

    "You should stop underestimating yourself," for the first time, Jircniv sounded sincere. Even sympathetic. "Your abilities are not beneath any of those present, myself included."

    A turn just as the noise took a pause. Eager eyes followed those almost childlike somersaults. A haze of indistinguishable gazes that did not cease with their understated comments.

    ''Lose yourself in the music the moment it belongs to you.'' Rufus'' words were repeated like a mantra in her mind, giving her confidence. Now there was only her and Jircniv in that place. The perceived laughter had disappeared, replaced by a much more welcome melody. As the flames of the Goddess Lagusa extinguished evil, a new found ardor inflamed her soul.

    "I am amazed that you did not use this opportunity to denigrate your guests. I thought the purpose of this evening was to convince me to accept your proposal." Antilene calibrated the strength of her grip, taking care not to break his bones. The steps continued to be out of time, but it didn''t matter. She continued to be watched and judged, but it didn''t matter. Every fear slipped over her body like clear water over the precious robes of the Goddess Egarda. "Or are you using a new strategy to get me on your side?"

    "Your negative opinion of me is completely unjustified," but not entirely without reason. In a split second faster than a breath of wind, the half-elf could almost swear she glimpsed a fragility concealed behind that mountain of confidence. "The collaborators I surround myself with are trusted people. The nobles who are here today to make your acquaintance would not be in this place were it not for their proven abilities. There is no room for incompetents in my design."

    "So those who are incompetent should be thrown away and placed in the rubbish?" An argument that seemed tailor-made to the young emperor''s skin. "A perhaps all too utopian design, don''t you think?"

    "Only those who find themselves in leadership positions," Jircniv led her back, tracing a left diagonal with her. Back straight and elbows firmly pointed, into a new battle. Unresting winds massaged her entire being. Antilene transmuted in Nekole, ready to slay the dragon of legend. "Those who have been blessed by the Gods..."

    "... Have a moral imperative to bear the benefits from the gifts bestowed upon them." A lesson she had made her own since she was a naive child. This was the only way to reach the coveted Paradise, after all. "The weak suffer the yoke of the strong. But if the strong decided to break this cycle, would a new cycle be possible?"

    There was an image of a tree, from whose branches a fruit sprang. Faine, and the Theocracy with her, used to believe that this was happiness wrested from men, detached from their world until the Gods decided to put an end to their miseries, in an endless series in which the beginning and the end could not be discerned.

    "Force is a tool, not the end, isn''t it? My theological studies are deficient, but this simple concept is familiar to me," Antilene doubted that he was really that uninformed about doctrine. Even though the religion of the Four Gods differed from the cult of the Six, there were still remarkable similarities. "A world in which the goal has been achieved would be ideal, don''t you think so?"

    "Maybe, but then that would make people like me obsolete. For those who have only known war, peace can sound like torture," she retorted, though not quite convinced. She had once fulfilled her destiny and found herself with a handful of flies in her hands. Once more she would fulfill it, and what would she get? "Conflict is part of our history, and part of our lives. Only when the Gods will sound the sacred shofar could we say goodbye to our sorrows. Until then we should continue to grit our teeth and move on."

    "Maybe so. But even the Gods need a push now and then. The birth of a strong new human nation could be an omen to their new coming. Together, anything would be possible." So near, yet so far. Jircniv''s eyes did not look at her, or anyone else nearby. They were lost in a distant future, which only to him appeared clear and precise. "I know I am being pedantic, but I find myself compelled to propose my offer for one last time. When can I know your answer?"

    "At the end of everything. It is always at the end that we get the answers." They broke off. The music began to stop. The dancing ceased. "Haste is bad advice."

    "I''ll wait with trepidation then. I am serious when I tell you that I hope you will enjoy the rest of the evening." It didn''t sound like a lie. For all his faults, Jircniv was still capable of being amicable and pleasing.

    "The same goes for me," Antilene replied in earnest.

    The Emperor nodded as he watched her walk away. As his image was lost in the crowd, the half-elf walked towards her sister, who had remained aloof until that moment.

    "How did the dancing go?" Agravaine asked her, intent on sipping a glass of wine. When they were close, the elf adjusted Antilene''s mussed hair as a result of those imprecise movements. "I don''t think you looked very good in the middle there, though you recovered in the final part. You certainly don''t control the dance floor like you control the battlefield."

    ''Her touch is harder compared to Nazaire''s soft one,'' Antilene reflected, as the older woman''s fingers returned the ponytail to its original shape. ''But that doesn''t make it any less pleasant. On the contrary, it is as warm as my old mother''s.'' Thinking back to the old nanny was for once not only a mixture of sorrow and joy. There was a happiness in those memories that now came flooding back, of which not even the half-elf was entirely aware.

    "The important thing is that I had fun. Not that I could have asked for better. It''s enough to have survived after this feat. Only once have I risked my safety so much." An answer with an aftertaste of sarcasm. A hyperbole intended to overcome embarrassment. ""Didn''t you get bored of being a wallflower all by yourself instead?"

    "Watching our great Queen perform in such an entertaining show was something that could never have brought me boredom. I can''t wait to brag about my good fortune with Etienne and Melody. They will be ecstatic." Antilene ignored that last part, hoping it was just a playful joke. "Besides, with all the attention focused on you, no one had the nerve to invite me to dance, except for that old partner of yours covered in tattoos. An offer I promptly declined, of course."

    Had it not been for those long ears that, unlike her, towered as a symbol of pride on the elf''s face, things would have turned out quite differently, Antilene considered.

    "Poor Edgar. That must not have been pleasant," was what she said instead. Not that she was really sorry for the rejection Divine Chain had suffered. The matters of the heart of the Black Scripture members were best left alone, in most cases. "By the way, where are the other members of the Theocracy?" Since they were there, it would have been improper not to even offer them a greeting. Not after all the Cardinals had done for her.

    "Just over there. At the far right corner of the buffet." Agravaine pointed in their direction as she escorted her towards them. It was hard to remember but, technically, her sister also acted as her bodyguard and champion in defense of her honor. Not that she really needed it, of course. "They were on the sidelines a lot of the time. Almost as if they were the bogeyman of the evening."

    ''Understandable. There are three men who have entered the realm of heroes and a former member of the Holocaust Scriptures. The pressure they are exerting by their mere presence must have stirred anyone who can understand a modicum of the danger they pose.''

    "Cardinal Raymond. Cardinal Berenice. It is good to see you after such a short time." In any case, Antilene was happy to see that they were at ease. Raymond and Berenice chatted amiably, exchanging information about the other guests, while Samson was on the lookout for someone who might question his title of Strongest Human. Only Edgar had a dejected expression, but he was still trying to maintain his bodyguard professionalism.

    "Oh Queen Antilene, I find you in really good shape!" Berenice greeted her with a hug overflowing with affection. The half-elf failed to reciprocate with as much fervor, but the tenderness of her touch was no less. "To see our little one leave everyone breathless was amazing. In truth, I wasn''t sure about this choice of putting you in front of all these people but, worries aside, you made a better impression than I could ever have imagined."

    "Although it''s always good to remember that caution is never too much," Raymond could at first glance look colder. Yet those concerns of his were by far the most cordial salute he could give, no less warm than that of his fellow companion. "Nevertheless, I agree with what Berenice said. You are a lovely sight, Queen Antilene."

    "I thank you from the bottom of my heart," a prickle in her cheek was curbed by a light touch of her index finger. Embarrassment was a small price to pay for that merry reunion. "It''s been such a short time, but I miss you a lot already. Don''t worry about me. I am able to take care of myself, also thanks to your wise advice I have received over the years."

    "We are glad to hear that," they replied in unison, both in a parental tone. "Honestly, we also wanted to see more clearly what the situation is among our neighbors. There is never an abundance of information, after all." Raymond continued, receiving a nod of assent from Berenice. "But so far we haven''t been able to get much out of it. There is an unexpected calm in this part of the continent lately. The last few years have seen a few shifts in the classic geopolitical set-up..."

    "And that worries you," Antilene concluded for him. The barely-there smile of the Earth Cardinal was confirmation enough. "For those who know no rest, the moment of quiet seems a bad omen."

    "We only fear that something is happening beyond our control," Berenice commented, adjusting the hem of her robe. The woman''s brow arched into a frown as her tone was busy becoming concerned. "Knowing how to relax is also an important task, so as not to descend into unwarranted concerns. But for one who has been trained from youth to see danger at every turn, it is difficult at times to display the required mental flexibility. Especially when old age becomes more and more insistent."

    "You are still young, Cardinal." That consolation coming out of her mouth sounded more like derision than an attempt at comfort. Antilene bit her tongue immediately after noticing how inappropriate her clumsy outburst was, although the woman displayed no offense in what she had heard. "You would not disfigure among the members of the Scriptures. That goes for both of you."

    Agravaine remained strangely quiet, after the last remark. ''Scriptures'' was for sure still a word that caused distress in her.

    "Only a few years ago I would have agreed with you, but today I am not so sure," Raymond replied, placing his attention on his still muscular and vital arms. "As much as I would not be reluctant to face danger again, should the opportunity arise, I am much more comfortable behind the lines directing the various operations. A desk job is certainly more tedious, but no less important. Although some would not be so inclined to share this opinion."

    "Humpf, you were always a guy who was more used to giving orders and acting in the shadows compared to someone like me." Feeling called upon, Strongest Human tucked his old comrade and current superior. In formal dress, the old Black Scripture veteran looked even more imposing. Yet the absence of the many scars he used to sport as medals, hidden beneath all that fabric, gave him an unusual gentle and less threatening air. "Not that I''m complaining about it. I''ve lost count of how many times your guidance and advice has been invaluable during our missions. Ahhh, to fight by your side once more would truly be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I pray every day to the great Imirduo for that chance! Just as I pray for another fight with you in the future, Queen Antilene."

    "Good, keep praying. So the chances of me having to challenge her again will fade," interjected Divine Chain annoyed. Unlike his nearby companion, Edgar looked rather bizarre in that formal dress. With all those tattoos on his face, the contrast was quite peculiar. "Not that I believe there will ever be an opportunity to challenge you to a duel, Lady Antilene," he hastened to clarify. At least that heartbreak didn''t seem to have affected him all that much, ignoring the constant dreamy glances he kept throwing at the elf. He would soon get over it, in any case. Maybe.

    "If you feel like it, you can always try. Truth be told, it''s been a while since I''ve clashed with a worthy opponent." The half-elf made her fingers crinkle, at the same time offering a smile of encouragement as a gift to her old comrade. The effect was better than hoped for judging by the overly jovial expression with which he returned it. "You''re sweating. Are you hot in that dress?" She noticed that he had many drops of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead, wetting his eyes that were just opening in surprise.

    "Nono, I was just worried that a possible new confrontation with me might be inconvenient with a woman in your position, Lady Antilene." He took a sip of water to calm himself, while Samson looked at him with disappointment. "And besides, after the last beating you gave me, I am not foolish enough to try again. My legs are still trembling at the very thought."

    A laugh escaped the half-elf. "Indeed that time you showed me how flexible a man''s body could be, and for that I thank you," though judging by the others'' reactions it was not to be a particularly amusing topic. "In any case," the situation had to be brought back under her control, so she tried to deflect the conversation as skillfully as an expert illusionist beguiles his audience. "The most amusing recruitment test was certainly that of Samson here. ''Finally, a worthy opponent! My limit is still far away!'' His last words before collapsing to the ground. Perhaps the first, and at this point probably the last, person to finish my special training session with a smile."

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    "And to this day I am grateful for the tiny fraction of your strength that you have given me the privilege of showing me," replied the huge man, who would not have been disfigured by the side of a mountain range. A grin of satisfaction framed that old but not dejected face. "The inspiration that skirmish gave me is a precious treasure that I carry with me like the most precious of presents."

    Antilene raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by that comment. "Glad to hear you say that." Was that the joy of defeat some used to speak of? A realization that one''s limits were still far away and that improvement was not an impossible challenge. Techniques that could be honed and experience that could only be gained from something so common. For a moment the half-elf found herself envying Samson for being able to obtain a so valuable gift from such a mundane event.

    "Tell me, have any of the knights here caught your attention?" She asked intrigued, exchanging a look of complicity with him.

    "Of those present, there are three people who have piqued my interest." An answer that failed to contain his enthusiasm. The same kind of happiness a child would have found in a candy shop. "The first is the knight accompanying the Queen of the Draconic Kingdom."

    And he pointed with those giant fingers of his at a man familiar to the half-elf, intent on exchanging hushed whispers with Queen Draudillon.

    "Sir Stronoff?" Indeed, recalling the encounter just now, he had made a very good impression on Antilene. "We had the pleasure of meeting him just now. He gave me the idea of an honest man."

    "A bold man no doubt. Perhaps too much so." Agravaine broke the vow of silence she had made to finally concede words. The elf rubbed her eyes, as if struck by unexpected drowsiness. She sipped some sparkling wine to recover from her weariness, before continuing. "The severity with which he handled himself was typical of soldiers, I imagine. And to be the trusted guard of a Queen he must have acquired great skills and fame."

    "He is a capable fighter. In fact, he distinguished himself in various endeavors in the Draconic Kingdom, especially during a massive Demi-human incursion. Captain Nigun has praised his merits several times in his reports." Raymond paused, intent on wondering whether more should be added. That he was aware of some additional detail?

    Berenice finished for him. "But still, I doubt he''s a match for you, Strongest Human. Or to that of any other member of the Black Scriptures."

    "I''m sure it would still be interesting to face him!" Samson retorted with enthusiasm. "Victory is not the only reason for a great fight."

    "Who are the other two?" At that point, Antilene''s curiosity had been piqued. The half-elf tried to pay more attention to her surroundings, recognizing that she had been quite superficial in her search for information up to that point. After all, she had lent herself to that event so far from her taste for a specific reason. "I am interested to hear your opinion."

    "Surely the leader of the paladins of the Holy Kingdom is a woman worth considering. She is located right there, next to Queen Calca." Antilene''s attention was caught by a pair of women. One with long blond hair and angelic features and the other with a helmet of brown hair that framed her face as solemnly as a military helmet. Judging by the sword she carried, it was easy to determine that it was the latter who was the object of the Black Scripture member''s interest. "I am sure their excellencies the Cardinals are better acquainted with her reputation than I am."

    "Remedios Custodio. One of the most powerful paladins in the region and wearer of the holy sword Safarlisia. If what has been reported by the Windflower Scriptures is true, this is a woman who would not disfigure in the Black Scriptures." Raymond placed great emphasis on that last statement, pointing out how extraordinary she was. "Just a few months ago she killed a demi-human of infamy known as Demon Claw. Surely we are talking about a person worthy of great respect."

    "I see," nodded the half-elf, surely intrigued. "And the third person?"

    "I have no idea who that is," huffed Samson, evidently disappointed. He shrugged, relaxing his muscles from the accumulated tension. "But just now I saw an imposing knight with long black hair. I did not recognise her or the other woman she was accompanying. But I was inevitably intrigued by the dark sword she was carrying."

    The sword seemed to be the weapon of choice among the various champions there. ''How would they react if I showed them Charon''s Guidance?'' Antilene hushed that foolish thought, letting her old friend rest in the infinite pocket Rufus had given her before leaving.

    "May it be the famous Black Knight of the City-State Union?" Berenice ventured, not entirely sure of that hypothesis. "The weapon Strongest Human noticed might be the legendary Crocdabal, one of the four swords of the eponymous hero of the Thirteen."

    "If that were to be true, it might be beneficial to make contact. But our relations are not the best with the Karnassus Alliance." Weariness began to appear on the Earth Cardinal''s face, making him age by years in only a few minutes. Was there ever an end to the worries of a man in his position? "Maybe it''s for the best. Letting a human have such influence in a land where other races also thrive could be beneficial in the long run. Following her example, other human heroes might spring up there, strengthening our position."

    But was that really the case? To Antilene it seemed an overly optimistic prediction. On the other hand, she understood Raymond''s point of view. Their limited resources made it difficult for them to expand their influence across all cardinal points. Sometimes, leaving things as they were and praying for the best outcome was the only alternative.

    "Don''t you think it''s time to go?" Agravaine whispered in her ear. It was natural that her sister felt uncomfortable in that situation.

    "You are right," Antilene replied in the same tone. "Cardinal Raymond, Cardinal Berenice. Samson. Edgar. It was a pleasure to meet you again. But it would be unseemly if I stayed in one place for the rest of the evening. Please forgive me." She bowed slightly as she prepared to throw herself back into the crowd of people.

    The Theocracy delegation understood perfectly. "Don''t let others spoil your mood." Berenice told her before they took their leave, bringing her lips together in a warm smile. "May the Gods bless you."

    "I won''t. Thank you for everything. I hope to see you again in the future."

    "That''s a promise."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Antilene was beginning to find her own pace. Managing to exchange polite signs with the noblewomen and laughing amiably at the nobles'' jokes, exerting a charm she didn''t even know was with her.

    The topics discussed were the most varied. They went from mundane interactions to unpleasant proposals.

    "Please tell me more about your children, Marquise Isabelle. I could stay and listen to you talk for hours about the interesting accomplishments of which your son is distinguished. A marriage offer? No, I could never live up to it. A man capable of exterminating four goblins all by himself deserves a lady who is his equal! I would only put a stop to the glory that awaits him!"

    Of course, not every conversation turned out to be particularly interesting.

    "Ah, the farming techniques introduced into your fief are indeed cutting-edge, Count Vettias. The cultivation of spelt is undoubtedly a fascinating topic that deserves to be investigated. If my ignorance did not reach such peaks I would be more than grateful to offer you my ear. Why don''t you discuss it with the Cardinals of the Theocracy? Your discoveries could be a great help to the cause of humanity."

    While others were... distinctly unique.

    "Does my dress take your breath away, Baroness Luciana? They are just old rags, especially compared to the elegance and refinement of yours. I beg your pardon? A private meeting just the two of us? I am forced to decline. It would be disgraceful if I were to leave for too long. But I have reason to believe that the young Duchess Ferden would be more interested in your company. Just be careful not to attract her husband''s attention. He is old and flabby, but still has the eyesight of a hawk."

    All in all, she fared better than she could ever have expected.

    "How is it going?" Agravaine handed her a sip of coffee served in a fine porcelain cup. By now the evening was coming to an end and the room was gradually beginning to empty. "I could swear you''re faring better than you did at the beginning. An extraordinary ability to adapt!"

    Antilene crinkled her eyes in exhaustion. "I can''t wait for this to be over. Alah Alaf must have bestowed his protection on me if I have been able to navigate my way through this infernal mess. I cannot conceive that there are some people who are in their element in these empty arguments and false compliments." She sipped noisily at the drink she was offered, not even noticing the high temperature. Not even close to recovering from her exhaustion, the half-elf snorted as if to expel a poison that was burning her throat. "And why is everyone so fixated on marriage offers? Is it inconceivable to these people that a woman of my age is not promised to anyone?"

    "Have you received any interesting ones?" Agravaine sneered at her with little conviction, letting that snicker get lost in the placid air.

    "Why tell you what you already know?" The half-elf avoided mentioning that the most interesting offer featured the future Minister of Economy. Or at least that was what his parents claimed. Certainly favorable future prospects for a 12-year-old boy. "Politics is all about endless talk without anything ever actually being said. You can never discern what your opponents want to say, although it is easy to imagine. I prefer the huddle of a real battle to whatever this is."

    "As Queen, however, you should be well aware that this will be neither the first nor the last time you will have to deal with the art of government." Rebutted her sister, in a vain observation. "Do you already have an idea of what to do after this is over? Why..." And there she stopped.

    ''Why don''t you go home? To Evasha?'' Concluded Antilene for her in her mind. But she avoided voicing those thoughts. "I don''t know yet," was instead her reply. "I''ll keep traveling, I guess." ''North, south. The world is my oyster, after all.'' To where? It did not matter. "You can follow me, if you like." She did not beg her to stay. ''What is the point?'' "I would be pleased if you did." In truth, it would have made her incredibly happy, but she avoided continuing further. "There is still so much to see." ''And I did so little.'' Even if they were eventually going to separate, why rush it?

    The elf remained silent. An "Alright," after a time that seemed incalculable. "I will follow you to the end of the world." That was not what she was asking of her. She would never ask that of anyone. "Sisters. Together." A smile that had a bitter aftertaste. Was this what Agravaine really wanted?

    "Together." She didn''t have the courage to voice her heart. Antilene smothered that tumult with a firm swipe.

    "So you would be the KingSlayer everyone is talking about." A voice determined and imperious broke that strange peace. "Frankly, I''m not impressed."

    A man bursting with pride and boastfulness from every pore intruded as gently as a rabid dog between them. Short blond hair and a frizzy beard completed an expression that seemed oblivious to the meaning of friendliness.

    "And you would be?" Antilene masked the crackling irritation with good manners. "I don''t think anyone has done us the courtesy of introducing ourselves." The muscles of his face remained impassive, trying not to let out even the slightest hint of weakness.

    "I''m not surprised. The servants in this cheap tavern called palace are rather lacking. Not that I find it so astonishing, given the Emperor''s paucity of good taste and lack of refinement." From the pompous and so ostentatiously glittering clothes he wore, it was hard to tell whether his was lack of awareness or envy dictated by a petty sense of inferiority. "Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself, heir to the throne of the Re-Estize Kingdom." A severed exclamation. A tone that made every effort to appear authoritative, but which to the half-elf seemed only foolishly childish.

    "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Antilene Heran Fouche," and her hand was offered, in expectation of a reciprocal gesture. "The pleasure is all yours." She obtained only a squeeze that tried in vain to be vigorous. The half-elf did not want to be outdone and, when their palms clasped, applied a little more pressure than she had done so far. In first response, the frizzy mustache frowned in an ungainly movement of hair and, still soiled with ale, began to drip a mixture of alcohol and sweat, while at the same time that oval-headed head twitched with a disjointed motion. Barbro suddenly withdrew his hand, taking care not to let the obvious discomfort that had taken hold of him show.

    Antilene had to summon all her energy not to let the hilarity erupt at that precise moment like a volcano that had slumbered for centuries and decided to wake up one day to show all its might.

    "A vigorous squeeze. For a woman, at least. Obviously, nothing special." What a tasteless lie. Not even his beer-smelling breath could cover that arrogant pitch. Then again, if he thought he could divert her attention from the small massages performed on the back of his hand, he was dumber than he appeared.

    The more that foolish prince flaunted that image of a powerful and proud man, the more he appeared to the half-elf as a buffoon that someone had dressed up in luxurious clothes for a greasy laugh. Had Jircniv sent him to convince her of the goodness of his thesis? "Perhaps the stories that were told about you were not so untrue. Exaggerated, for sure. But a kernel of truth must be there. Killing a couple of opponents might not have been entirely unreasonable. Too many idiots think it''s enough to wield a cheap sword to be able to flaunt the title of knight."

    Proper manners were a remote invention, which was why many tended to forget about them. Antilene''s memory, luckily, was not lacking on that particular subject.

    "Oh, it must have been two at most. Maybe three. It''s hard for a stupid woman like me to remember such past events. Too many cups of tea have been drunk since that time." A laugh that was far too high to appear sincere. She instantly regretted that decision so unlike her. Agravaine''s eyes widened as she tried to put the words together, to no avail. Even the elf was stunned by the apparent weirdness of the whole situation. "None of them, however, would have been even remotely comparable to you, Lord Barbro. One glance is enough to understand the enormous difference with the other knights in the room."

    ''For the worse.'' She avoided adding that detail.

    That farcical act would not have fooled even a child. "Well said. Perhaps you are not as incompetent as I first deemed you to be." Evidently, however, Barbro was not a child. "I do hope you are aware that aligning your interests with Jircniv would prove to be a completely wrong move." He cast a glance of superiority at the Emperor of Baharuth, intent on conversing with a couple of diners, being ignored for a long minute and getting a lovely nothing as a result. The prince puffed smoke from his nostrils before continuing as if nothing had happened. "Soon these lands will be under my control. And I will remember those who have shown friendship towards me. Enemies on the other hand... it would not be elegant to explain this to a lady. Every great king knows how to deal with his own subjects. Those who serve me faithfully will obtain a rich reward."

    "Excuse my ignorance. Yet I thought that currently the war with the Empire was not going well for Re-Estize. You couldn''t find a moment''s respite just because the Emperor decided to temporarily suspend hostilities?" Barbro''s conviction of what he had just uttered was worthy of in-depth investigation. Perhaps there was a secret weapon that would reverse the course of that conflict. If so, it would have been better to report it to the Cardinals as soon as possible, so that they could take the necessary measures.

    "Humpfh, ridiculous." The prince snorted boredly. A haughty tone that did not conceive the existence of that question. "What our army lacks is only a great leader capable of leading our superior might and numbers to victory. If the last battles have resulted in nothing, it is solely due to the inability of our generals and soldiers." The latter was certainly no small detail, Antilene found herself thinking. But she wanted to hear with her own ears where the man was going with this. "Once I inherit the throne, and that will be very soon, all that will change." Barbro clenched his fists, already foretasting the sweet taste of triumph. "It will only take me a few months at most to create a great army and to make total defeat known to our dear host. Under my command even the most straggling band of peasants is transformed into a lethal platoon."

    "..." Antilene remained speechless. And Agravaine with her. In truth, both of them were far too shocked to even entertain any thoughts.

    "One of the first things I will do will be to renovate the decor of this dump. No, there''s no need to look at me like that. I know what you''re thinking. But when I will become absolute ruler there will be room for you too... in my kingdom."

    That stupidity had to be just a charade. It was impossible that someone so... idiotic could exist. A tactic to get her to let her guard down?

    Antilene observed Barbro again. The confidence with which he believed he was in control was not the result of a ruse, but rather the outcome of his perception of the reality around him. Fascinating, in a way.

    "You are far too kind. I look forward to contemplating you in the position a man of your caliber deserves." No reason to waste time on nonsense like that. "Take away my curiosity. Why did you accept the Emperor''s invitation if your relations with him are not the best?"

    "It was our father who imposed it on us." The answer came from a different voice. Sweet and gentle as honey, it came from a graceful maiden, who approached with such delicacy of footsteps that she gave the impression of gliding gently through the air, the ground too dirty for a beauty as exquisite as hers. As soon as the young woman was only a few steps away, blue eyes as dark as the deep abyss of the sea settled slowly, with scrutinizing calmness, on the half-elf. "Pardon my intrusion. I am the third princess of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself. Enchanted to make your acquaintance." The hems of the indigo-blue dress she wore were grasped and then lifted with a firm touch that did not sacrifice refinement for speed in a curtsy that had the flavor of homage.

    "That decrepit old man still believes peace is possible. Foolishness," Barbro spat bile, as he hurled lightning bolts and thunderbolts with his gaze on his sister. "And do you know whose fault it is? Yours. An inept whose only merit is having a pretty face, yet you couldn''t even seduce that debauched Emperor. Hey, you!" He drew the attention of one of the waiters who were still walking around the room, snapping his fingers violently. "Bring me another glass of beer. And don''t waste your time."

    Agravaine seemed about to explode in a burst of rage, but Antilene stopped her before she could do anything stupid. "It is not our business to settle the internal affairs of other nations," she whispered in her ear. Seeing the heir to the throne of Re-Estize with her own eyes, the half-elf came to see what reasons the Cardinals had for favoring an integration with the Baharuth Empire under the hegemony of Jircniv.

    "Lord Barbro, if you would permit..." a timid voice rose in unexpected courage, coming from the knight accompanying Princess Renner. Had it not been for the gleaming armor he wore, that young boy who certainly still had all his baby teeth would not have been out of place among the rest of the servants.

    "Climb, there''s no need to fret." Renner stopped him, raising her voice just enough to be barely audible. "My brother the Prince was absolutely correct in his statement. My incompetence undoubtedly deserves to be an object of scorn. It is with great regret that my heart continues to beat, knowing that I have failed my own flesh and blood. A disgrace that can hardly be made good." The young knight lowered his head, more out of embarrassment than sincere repentance, as he struggled to sustain the penetrating gaze of his lady. "My talents are mediocre, for they do not come as I was not fortunate as my brother here. Do you not also find, Queen Antilene, that a great leader like him is only born whenever the moon covers the sun?"

    "Well... I don''t know how to answer that," the half-elf found herself taken aback by that unexpected question. Drawn into what appeared to be a sibling clash, she found herself displaced. "Absolutely," a barely discernible conviction, a better result would not have been possible. "A future king who will surely bring great changes." How would have Barbro responded?

    "Humpfh, I don''t have time to waste on this nonsense. Queen Antilene, think better of my words. If we should meet again, you will do well to give me an answer." And with the same impetuosity with which he had entered the scene he left, much to her relief.

    "My brother can show a strong personality, don''t you think, Queen Antilene?" Renner frowned, without losing that natural smile that never seemed to leave her.

    "Surely his self-image is particularly favorable." Agravaine answered for her, watching the prince walk away. "How does a body walk with all that air in it? Shouldn''t the pressure make him explode like a balloon?"

    "If only it were you, Princess Renner, who was designated as heir to the throne and not that bloated man, there might still be hope for the Kingdom of Re-Estize." Climb spoke softly, but with just enough fervor to externalize his frustrations.

    "That''s enough Climb! I know your esteem for me is high, and for that I will always be grateful, but do not try to repeat what you just said in front of one of my brothers or an ally of theirs." Firm but understanding, Renner glowed with the same radiance as a thousand suns. The young knight was entranced by that beauty, the irises on his face pleading a hymn of admiration and devotion. "I am not as special as you think. It is only with the help of devoted people like you that I am able to get by."

    The young girl''s expression darkened, remaining resolutely charming in that sadness. Renner and Climb carved out a space just for the two of them, where the rest of the world could not touch their bond. Even Antilene realized that theirs was a pure and soulful love, so splendid and true that it could deceive.

    "It was not my intention to waste your time." The Princess of Re-Estize tried to apologize. "Such a pathetic spectacle must be unseemly for the famous new ruler of the elves nation."

    Antilene reassured her, using the same care with which one handles something precious and fragile. "Yours seems an unbreakable bond. I could never be offended to see something so beautiful."

    The two young people blushed, with an innocence that had an adorable edge. A privileged rank was not always without thorns. So many imposed duties dictated what the princess should be, and not what she was.

    Perchance out of stupor, the girl slipped the empty glass in her hand, which was promptly grabbed by the half-elf before it hit the ground.

    "My carelessness knows no bounds. I am once again consternated." Far too hard on herself. A feeling that Antilene knew all too well.

    "And I am once again here to tell you that nothing serious has happened," the half-elf told her, as she placed the glass back into the princess''s hands. To the touch a feeling of coldness, the same as when grazing a corpse. The contrast with Renner''s warm expression, darting between Climb still motionless and her, momentarily took Antilene by surprise.

    "To change the subject," Renner continued to maintain that smile, but such was the naturalness of it that for a moment Antilene had the strange impression that it was all too perfect. So devoid of imperfections as to appear almost divine. Unthinkable, however, that there was something hidden behind that gentle personality. "Excuse me for being intrusive, but may I ask about your relationship with Emperor Jircniv? It''s the first time he''s done so much for the good of someone else, at least to the best of my memory."

    In truth, Antilene had been so caught up in what she thought of the situation that she had not even pondered what idea the other rulers had of her and Jircniv. It was only natural that Renner was stressed; as far as the princess knew, she was a new enemy to be on her guard against.

    "It would be nice to be able to answer that, yet I can''t quite externalize exactly what it is we have in common." The proposal of marriage was carefully not mentioned, although the half-elf had the impression that the young girl had intuited something along those lines. " ''Friends'' is, however, a word that sounds too much to my ears. Acquaintances would perhaps be more suitable."

    Renner opened her thin lips in a small squeal of surprise. "I could have sworn there was something more to it from the delightful way you graced our visit. Such a... peculiar way of dancing. I had never seen one before."

    Antilene blushed, cashing in on that insinuation. "Partner dancing has never been a specialty of mine." She swallowed, trying to hold back her embarrassment. "For those accustomed to court life since childhood, mine must have seemed an amateurish and forgettable performance, at best. I dare not imagine the worst."

    "Only rude fools without the slightest ability to discern what is worthy of respect in this world could make such insinuations laden with malice. You were magnificent. I too would have loved to dance alongside... someone. But alas, he is not here with us." An all too obvious lie. Her protector strained to keep himself as composed as a statue.

    What must it have felt like to be so close to the one who was at the center of one''s heart and not be able to caress him, embrace him, kiss him?

    The princess and the valiant knight who had won her devotion and soul through kindness and courage, despite his humble origins. An all too common fable, teasing the romantic fantasies of young maidens since antiquity, which in real life took on the contours of a devilish curse, condemning them to remain so close, yet so far apart.

    "One day I would like to see you dance beside the one you desire."

    "I fear that day will never come." A long sigh. "I am not strong enough. And in my future I see only black clouds on the horizon."

    "You are strong, Princess Renner." Climb retorted, his body bent like his spirit at seeing his lady in that dejected condition. "If the Kingdom of Re-Estize still thrives, it is only because of your enlightened intervention."

    "The image you have of me is far too idealized Climb." Then, turning towards the Elf Queen. "It was not my intention to disturb you with my own concerns."

    "Not at all. I am convinced that what you desire could be granted."

    "Only in legends and stories there is a happy ending."

    "Sometimes legends are true and stories can be made real."

    "Being friends with those who make these legends may be the key. If only there were someone of such caliber here with us."

    "Who can tell? Friendship is not something you earn in a day, or in a month. It requires time and effort to cultivate."

    "Let that seed be sown then. It may prove valuable in the future."

    Antilene grinned from ear to ear. "It was a pleasure to meet you. The Golden Princess is deserving of her fame." The half-elf crossed her middle and index fingers, bending her thumb slightly. "A symbol of good wishes from the God of Light."

    Renner reciprocated with a bow. Climb followed his mistress. "May our next meeting be under more favorable circumstances, Queen Antilene." The two walked away. "One last thing," she added, before turning away. "Good luck."

    "Same to you." Antilene reciprocated, as she watched them head for the exit. By now almost all the guests had returned to their homes.

    ''Only one thing left to do now.''

    She allowed Agravaine to retire to their rooms, as she prepared to face that last test of the evening.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Jircniv was waiting for her on the same terrace as a couple of days before. The emperor had temporarily dismissed his guards, and was intent on contemplating the starry sky, letting the feeling of the glass of the goblet he was absent-mindedly spinning in his hands be his only company.

    "Ah, you are here." A stifled comment that barely acknowledged her existence. Antilene approached at a slow pace, remaining silent. "There was no need for you to come. I have no difficulty understanding your answer."

    "I''m sorry." That was all she managed to say. She wished she could be more eloquent, but the words died in her throat.

    "It''s alright." Jircniv shook his shoulders resignedly. "Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Things do not always follow our plans, but it is good to know how to adapt. It will mean that I will remain a bachelor for a while longer. Your answer was not the only reason why I organized this, and I can be satisfied on the other fronts. The Re-Estize delegation... nah, no need to bore you with these diplomatic trivialities."

    She was too tired to fight back. She apologized to Princess Renner -not too much to Prince Barbro- in her heart before finally putting an end to it.

    "The friendliness and decorum shown to me at this feast are not common. You won''t be alone for much longer. You will find someone eventually."

    "Oh I already have someone to share my heart and worries with." Who you marry is not who you love. A simple lesson Antilene had learnt in that short stay. "It was a fun prospective, for the little it lasted." Already he paid her no attention, his mind busy working out a new plan of action. Despite his youth, the emperor was always intent on scanning the new intentions of fate. "Even if my main goal was not accomplished, I still gained a valuable ally, did I not?"

    "Of course." Antilene, on the other hand, remained steadfast in the past. "And I hope I can say the same."

    Jircniv sneered. "What will you do now?"

    "I will continue with my travels, I presume."

    "A wandering Queen. Certainly not something you see every day. Do you intend to be remembered in the memory of the bards because of your eccentricity?"

    "One has to be remembered somehow. You have chosen to do so through your works. I am content to do it through my oddities."

    Jircniv offered her his arm, to accompany her on her walk back. "Do you already have your next destination in mind?"

    "Yes. The Karnassus City-States Alliance looks promising."

 Chapter 38: An offer that cant be refused

    Chapter 38

    An offer you can''t refuse

    Draconic Kingdom

    "Are you listening to me?" No, she wasn''t. Clementine continued to polish the stiletto as she let Lance''s words get lost in the void. Meek as a lamb, the man watched her intently, fear creeping like a crack in a wall from his uncertain gaze. Or was it desire at seeing her so vulnerable sitting on that small bed? ''Come closer. Come closer and I will give you the gift of an unforgettable experience.''

    "Could you kindly repeat that? I was intent on tidying up my equipment." One week. It had been a week, if not more, since she''d given full rein to that collection she was so proud of. If she didn''t fix it soon, that precious iron would soon rust.

    "As I was saying, there was a raid near the Fortress of Biblo. Hundreds of demi-humans laid siege to it for a couple of days, setting nearby villages on fire." Lance''s chest was so juicy. It begged to be penetrated. A small, sweet touch deep inside. It wouldn''t kill him, so why not just give his soul a little taste of her, of her essence? "There was no big fight, thankfully. Just a couple of inconclusive fights without too many victims. But from what I have been told by our informants, General Aderbaal is concerned about another assault coming soon. Bigger, this time."

    "How is that supposed to involve me?" Clementine asked, already anticipating the answer.

    Lance cleared his throat. "The Sunlight Scriptures are heading to the border, to determine if the matter was a simple skirmish or is worthy of deeper investigation. Captain Nigun was prescient in deciding to stay a few more days, before departing." He waited for a reaction from the woman, which did not arrive. "The higher-ups want you to join him, in case there should be... complications."

    How long had it been since she had tasted the blood of demi-humans? Clementine could have sworn it was sourer than that of humans, but no less pleasant.

    "Do I have a choice?"

    "Everyone has. But the one of the Scriptures has already been written."

    "Meeting point?" She tried to keep her composure. But her body was beginning to quiver with trepidation. "And how soon should I show up at that location?"

    "Three days." More than it was fair to expect. "You will leave from the Fortress City of Biblo. Do you need anything? We know how to get everything you should request."

    The woman stood up, slowly approaching the WindFlower Scripture member. He flinched back, intimidated, but a hand gently stroking his cheek made him desist from that unnecessary worry. "I already have everything I need," she said, pointing to that motley assortment of weapons placed on the bed. "What I want is information, valuable information. Tell me everything you know, dear Lance."

    He gulped. "About the enemies, we don''t know much either. From what we have gathered since the purge of the Black Scriptures and from the reports of captured prisoners, it seems that their army is divided into sections organized under various different clans. The clan leaders probably act as generals. But the most important part is that we know there is a demi-human capable of bringing down a Dominion Authority."

    The angel belonging to the highest order the Theocracy could summon, at least as far as she knew. If what Lance said was true, then perhaps not even the magnificent Clementine would be able to get the better of that enemy. That is, if it was only one, of course. Eliminating a group would have been easier. It was enough to start with the weakest link and, little by little, limb by limb, make your way towards the head. If that wasn''t the case, however, little harm would have been done, she would have made up for it on the weaker ones. Blood always found a way.

    "It was since we repelled their massive last invasion that we feared they would soon return. And it seems they haven''t kept us waiting much longer."

    Clementine thanked one of the Gods, it didn''t matter who. Soon her boredom would come to an end and for that she was as grateful as she had never been before. A joy at the impending massacre began to flow through her veins, filling her with a perverse pleasure.

    "Were you unable to gather any more intelligence on possible sensitive targets? The famous WindFlower Scriptures do not always live up to their name as far as I have been able to ascertain." A mockery that was not retorted by her interlocutor, much to the woman''s chagrin. "If I am to venture into unknown territory, it would be wise not to leave out even the smallest detail. I have no intention of leaving my neck in unknown territory. Don''t you think it is fitting for a graceful maiden like me to make a happy little family and die in the arms of her beloved?"

    Lance opened his mouth, as if about to voice his thoughts. After a minute that lasted far too long, his only reply was a stunted ''sure''. What a boring reaction! Just like the man himself. Clementine diligently inspected his neck veins, which pulsed in an irregular cadence, begging her with pleading words to put a cutoff once and for all on that trivial matter. "Should there be more than one demi-human capable of defeating you, I don''t think there could be a bright future for this kingdom," he continued, casting her a worried look.

    Clementine adjusted the sleeves of the dressing gown she wore, letting the soft fabric caress the skin of her fingers. "You are far too much of a flatterer. Too bad that between what your heart suggests and your tongue pronounces there is a difference so vast that it cannot be grasped." She licked her lips, savoring that moment of intimacy between the two of them. "If this dump were to end once and for all, I would just do what I always do. Dig my way through the blood and flesh until I find nothing but light."

    The man swallowed. He tried to hold her gaze, but had to lower his head shortly after, his courage failing. "Three days," he repeated in a low voice, almost a whisper. "In three days we will meet again at the indicated point. Do not be late."

    "Oh, dear Lance," she walked him to the door, sensing his discomfort. This made her particularly delighted. "I could never disappoint the Gods when they call upon my services!"

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The woman on her right had slender, elegant fingers. That delicate hand would have been even more beautiful to look at without more phalanges. Why could no one understand her sense of fashion?

    The man on the left sported powerful shoulder muscles. With all that flesh, what a difference a little less would have made? He who basks in abundance, has a duty to share.

    In front, fleets of children. One little girl with chubby, soft cheeks, another little boy with sparkling and big eyes. A youth not yet achieved, a maturity about to develop. Severing that which was most precious to us, the moment we realized its value. Nothing was more satisfying.

    An elderly man with dry skin but a small, round nose. Arm in arm he walked with what was evidently his wife, with long silky white hair. Surshana was already about to join them. Would it have been conceited to precede him? Or an act of devotion, in sparing the God such a trite task?

    City guards, covered in all that metal, assiduously patrolled the streets, trying to bring order where there was chaos. So diligent in their work, so assiduous in not stopping even for a moment. Giving them a well-deserved rest would have been an act of gratitude.

    Clementine''s hands brushed against the stilettos she concealed under her cloak, straining not to grasp them, not to use them. The sun''s rays blinded her, causing a feeling of dizziness.

    A quivering that was impossible to resist.

    The walls of the fortress gave all those people a feeling of safety. Did that barrier they had erected against the outside world make them unaware that the real danger was lurking there with them? That feeling of safety and comfort in times of need was so inviting. One. Just one, to satisfy her cravings. An offering, yes. An offering to the Gods, as a good omen for the mission.

    "Can I help you, miss?" One of the guards approached, perhaps drawn by her stare lost in her own thoughts, or perhaps drawn by something more sinful. "It''s not good to be alone for this long, especially in special conditions like these. "

    Clementine relaxed, trying to put on the robes of a helpless girl. "Oh, I''m just a little tired. It was a long journey I had to undertake to get here from Biblo." Her fingers grazed his arm. "You are so strong. Why don''t you escort me to my destination? I would feel much safer with you by my side." Sweet, velvety voice, with just the right amount of phony to make it more believable. A fake appealing tone that seemed to hide an innocent interest, causing the man to blush and embarrass himself, in a game of misunderstandings of which Clementine was a master.

    "Well, I have the patrol round." His eyes met hers. "But I might be able to carve out a few minutes if we don''t have to go too far." An almost unreal innocence, different from the lust Clementine was used to. This would only increase her enjoyment.

    "I don''t think we''ll need to." Someone had decided to interrupt her fun. "The girl is with me."

    With his usual unsolicited punctuality, Lance had arrived at precisely the least opportune moment. The guard sought the gaze of Clementine, who found herself forced to confirm that she actually knew the newcomer.

    "You''re right on time. I wouldn''t have expected that," he said, as soon as they were alone. Much of his head was concealed by the hood that covered his head, but his quivering lips did not escape the woman''s attention. "Were there any complications on the journey?"

    "None." ''Also thanks to you.''

    As if they both didn''t know. Windflower Scripture had not taken their eyes off her since the moment she had parted. Clementine had thought that that brief lapse of time would allow her a modicum of freedom to indulge in her favorite pastimes, but evidently it would not be possible to be more wrong.

    Not a single bandit, nor a few lost travelers. Nothing at all for days. At the point she had reached, even a few magical beasts would have been enough.

    "Good. Then let''s go. Captain Nigun is waiting for us," and he began to make his way, without even waiting for her. Clementine was there and then on the verge of making Lance move on his own, to see how long it would take him to notice her absence, but she desisted.

    They walked for a few minutes, without uttering a word. After a few nerve-wracking moments, the Black Scripture woman decided to put an end to that silence.

    "I would have expected much more fear with the demi-humans nearby. Instead, the citizens seem strangely at ease. They behave normally, as if everyday life is running smoothly." Perhaps all too quiet. An artificial image, created on purpose so as not to let panic take over.

    "I''ve noticed the same thing myself," Lance replied, raising his voice just enough to not be overcome by the murmurs of the other passers-by. "I suppose part of it is also due to having become accustomed to frontier life by now. The constant attacks are part of these people''s lives, for how strange it sounds. Although I suppose General Aderbaal also has a hand in it. He has every interest in maintaining the image of a peaceful life as much as possible."

    Normally Clementine would have dropped the conversation at that point, but there was still a long way to go in all likelihood.

    "What interest does a military man have with such affairs?" She asked, not entirely convinced. "Shouldn''t his priority at the moment be securing the city''s defenses?" Clementine took in consideration the fortified walls that stood solidly at the four corners of the city. Yet, in the face of a charge of demi-humans even those seemed insufficient.

    "In the event of a possible siege, keeping the citizens'' morale high is essential to resist. All these guards you probably see relentlessly patrolling the streets are here to remind the citizens that they are protected."

    ''Even if many of them would be useless in an open fight against the Beastmen'', Clementine found herself thinking, but avoided telling.

    "Also, see those officials over there?"

    Lance pointed to some men on the sides of the roads, intent on taking notes in large notebooks.

    "What''s so special about them?" The clothes they wore were certainly not flashy, and nothing about their appearance stood out, with the possible exception of an emblem depicting the Draconic Kingdom effigy worn on their chests.

    "They are Rabbams, the eyes and ears of the Queen. Their job is to travel to each end of the Kingdom, to report back to the capital on the current progress of the territories under the crown''s protection." Lance explained as clearly as possible. "General Alderbaal has every interest in ensuring that their report on him is positive."

    "I cannot see why. Why should a military general care about such trifles? Shouldn''t his priority be the progress of the war?" In difficult times, even the most extreme measures would be justified. That was why Clementine loved them so much.

    "Do you really know nothing?" Lance''s expression was bewildered, perhaps due to her ignorance. Yet Clementine was not embarrassed; on the contrary, she found it particularly amusing to see him lose that feigned composure he so proudly flaunted. "Along with General Barca, General Alderbaal is one of the two Shofeim, the highest military authority in the Draconic Kingdom."

    "Oh, I remember that old fart. I seem to have glimpsed it when I was on a mission with the rest of the Black Scriptures. Though it didn''t make much of an impression on me." But, to be fair, there were very few who did.

    "The Shofeim are chosen directly by the Queen and the three Grand Dukes from among the highest ranks of the military corps." He did not even dignify her with a glance, leaving her words to die in a vacuum. "And just as they can be chosen for office, so can they be dismissed. General Barca was triumphant during the siege of Gelone, but the same cannot be said for his counterpart, who was unable to repel the constant raids before we arrived."

    "Let me guess. To maintain his position he is now willing to do anything. No wonder he sought the help of the Scriptures." In truth, he was the kind of man Clementine despised the most. So predictable in their clinging to an ephemeral rank that they did not arouse the slightest interest in her.

    "I think he really cares about the people he protects, and the living conditions of those in his service are proof of that. On the other hand, once you''ve climbed so high, the fear of falling gets stronger and stronger."

    ''Perhaps he would need a little help, to be able to overcome his fears.'' Clementine considered. ''The only way to defeat vertigo is to jump. And I''m a great motivator.'' She congratulated herself, for her clemency was unparalleled.

    "In any case, what prompts General Alderbaal to request our help is of no concern to us. Our interests align, and so much is enough." Continued the WindFlower Scripture member, stopping a few meters from a flashy shack. "Follow me."

    They arrived in a disused room, totally empty except for an inconspicuous bookcase. Lance pulled one of the books from the top shelf, without even giving it a second glance. Slowly, the bookcase began to move, as if maneuvered by a slow spell, revealing a narrow, dark passage.

    "Oh, exciting! A secret passage!" Clementine feigned astonishment, aware that that act would not fool even the dumbest of fools. So not even Lance. "I wonder where it will lead? Perhaps to a hidden treasure room of King Thenevian or to the golden palace of the Goddess Lagusa!"

    "Funny. This passage connects with the basement of the central building. It is best to avoid attracting too much attention by entering through the main entrance." Lance turned on lights placed on the sides of the walls, to prevent the darkness from engulfing them. "Don''t pay too much attention to what you might see. Remember that the mission comes first."

    "What the Scriptures perform has already been written. What the Scriptures do is obey, for the Gods willing is inscrutable." Clementine repeated that now ingratiating mantra in her mind. Lance gave her a nod of assent. ''And what the Scriptures do is lick the asses of the Cardinals, hoping they had cleaned it up beforehand.''

    Abandoning that life was a dream she had long yearned for. But how was she to escape the other Scriptures on her own? They would find her in no time if she dared to flee and then... Staying and blindly following orders like a faithful dog was the only option left. Finding a modicum of freedom in that captivity was the only thing that kept her going.

    Unexpectedly, the road they traveled was well maintained. Dirt was almost absent, and there were no insects or other vermin that could have disturbed her.

    ''The WindFlower Scriptures also know how to tidy up a place left to itself. They are wasted as spies. Perfect cleaners, that''s what they are.''

    The two emerged in a dark room, connected to a narrow maze of corridors. A few candles illuminated the room, giving the place a gothic and mysterious atmosphere. Hooded men in red were intent on some strange devilry, gathered around a table.

    ''Just like in the old man''s stories.''

    She remembered when she and Quaiesse were still small, and their father used to read them old stories of wicked sorcerers locked in their shelters, and fearless heroes foiling their misdeeds. Always busy, her father. Always with his nose in some business that concerned the family, the estate or the Theocracy. Still, he moved heaven and earth to spend at least one evening a week with his children.

    ''It is important to build a relationship with one''s offspring,'' he used to repeat. It did not matter how many urgent matters there were to deal with or how much his body begged for rest. He had never missed one of those appointments. ''Nothing is more important to me than their well-being."

    For Surshana, how she hated him.

    "Lance, I see you arrived on time," they were greeted by what appeared to be the leader. Curved and diminutive, he lowered his hood and lifted a mask that covered his mouth, revealing two dull, inquisitive eyes. "And this must be the famous WindStride. Charmed to make your acquaintance!" From the tunic emerged a cadaverous hand, so pale that one doubted it had ever been touched by the heat of the sun, which attempted to grasp Clementine''s.

    "You''d better stay in your seat, Khajiit, if you don''t want to find yourself severed." Lance''s warning was unnecessary. There was no way she could have done something like that. Nevertheless, the man, Khajiit, drew back, keeping his attention fixed on her.

    "Are you strong, woman?" His tongue had to hiss like a snake''s to make that question. Those mesmerizing black holes he passed off as eyes drew her into a world she had not known before.

    "The strongest."

    Khajiit bent his lips into what should have been a smile, but turned out to be only a distorted grin. "Excellent. I trust in your help to further our studies." He returned to the table where his assistants were standing, giving Clementine the space she needed to scrutinize what, or rather who, was the subject of their work.

    The lifeless body of a small armat lay on the cold marble, while the men in red continued to study it. They tore at the skin, exposed musculature and shattered bones. Khajiit firmly grasped a scalpel offered to him by one of his aides, and began cutting into the demi-human''s right arm. "I have made an express wish to Captain Nigun to bring us some more study subjects. Those collected during the siege of Gelone''s fortress are beginning to run out." His attention continued to be focused on the task at hand. The back of his hand pulsed with energy as he drew perfect lines on that motionless body. Yet, Clementine had the impression that new vitality was flowing into those open, lifeless eyes. "Having one of their lords as a study subject could advance our research far more than these worthless creatures ever could. Before it would have been too much to ask, but now that we have a famous member of the Black Scriptures on our side, there is a possibility."

    "What is the object of your research?" Clementine was unexpectedly intrigued.

    Khajiit, again without stopping, refocused his attention on her, "The soul!" Seized with unexpected enthusiasm, the lower jaw contracted into a grimace, he asked, "do you know where it is located?"

    Clementine shook her head.

    The man finished with his work and gave instructions to his companion beside him.

    "As far as humans are concerned, the most accepted theories hold that it is located here, in the brain," he pointed to the head. "Or here, in the heart." And he touched his chest. "Where do you think it is?"

    The woman felt her chin in thought. "The heart," she replied after a few seconds.

    Khajiit dribbled his teeth, satisfied.

    "It may be, but unfortunately it is an answer we can never know, as experiments on human beings are strictly forbidden in the Theocracy."

    "It could not be otherwise," retorted Lance disgustedly. "You Adepts of Surshana are already lucky that your so-called experiments are allowed on non-humans."

    ''Real pity are those limitations'', Clementine considered with a note of sadness.

    Khajiit, however, ignored those complaints. "In any case, we are trying to find out what the Beastmen''s beliefs on the matter are, assuming they have any. The few living prisoners we have received have not been able to provide us with comprehensive answers." A pause. "They were not too talkative, unfortunately."

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Clementine shrugged. "I guarantee nothing." Leaving someone alive was not her style. She took one last look at the remains of the armat, which were beginning to look unrecognizable. "But I will try to do what I can. What do you need to know all this for? The origin of the soul, I mean."

    "The study of magic requires much practice and numerous trials and errors. At the moment, to use the resurrection spell, you need a spellcaster capable of using the fifth tier and acceptable conditions of the body to be resurrected." Surshana''s adept scratched his entirely hairless skull. White as it was, it would be not impossible to mistake it for real bones that had come to life. "But what if we could create a new magic from it? One that requires a lower tier, so that it can be used even by less capable sorcerers. It would greatly enhance the abilities of humans. And then..."

    But Khajiit ended his speech there, realizing that he had already said far too much.

    Clementine was now bored by all that talk. Resurrecting someone was the opposite of what she preferred to do.

    "Let''s go, Lance," she ordered her companion. The man started to open the door to the room, avoiding even acknowledging the presence of the sorcerers, still intent on their experiments. "We will see each other again soon, or at least I hope so, Khajiit." Clementine took her leave with a quick bow, too ungainly to be respectful.

    "I''m counting on it." Khajiit, on the other hand, returned to his duties, merely greeting her with a dry wave of his hand.

    She and Lance started up the stairs of the building, climbing up to a small apartment complex. It was fascinating to see the contrast between the ordinariness of those corridors and the nefariousness that was going on in the basements.

    "Nice people," commented Clementine, brushing a lock of blond hair off her shoulder. It didn''t matter that the only one who gave a sign of being alive among the Adepts had been Khajiit. They were the typical group of which seen one, seen them all. "Perhaps overzealous in their studies. Still, considering which nation they belong to, it was to be expected."

    That dig did not hit the mark, promptly ignored by the Windflower Scripture member. "I don''t like them. There are things human beings should not meddle in. Necromancy is one of them." Lance confessed, growing gloomy. "I understand the benefits it might bring to the cause, but don''t we risk attracting the ire of Surshana?"

    "Don''t tell me you''re afraid. A Scripture member scared of simple beliefs. What a disgrace! Do you want me to give you a hug and stroke your hair as one would with a child frightened by lightning?" She teased him, smiling affectionately. His disgusted expression amused her more than she would have imagined. "Relax. Resurrection spells have been used since time immemorial. This certainly won''t be the one to arouse the wrath of the Gods."

    After all, if indeed the Gods were ready to judge every possible wrongdoing, Clementine should have been punished long ago at that point. Instead, there she was, ready and raring to do her duty once more. This meant that either her actions were indifferent to those they worshiped... or they were approved. She couldn''t choose which was her preferred scenario.

    "Captain Nigun is in this room," Lance dropped that conversation. Whether out of fear, or some other reason, Clementine could not determine. "Are you ready to meet him?"

    "Of course. You don''t see such a buffoon every day." In truth, she had never met the Sunlight Scripture commander, but according to what her idiot twin had told her, Nigun Grid Luin''s devotion was so obscene as to make even the most zealous of preachers look like a blasphemous cuss. "I look forward to working with him. I am sure our collaboration will be very... fruitful!"

    When they entered, they found the man kneeling on the hard floor. In his hands was a rosary, the beads of which were being slowly unrolled.

    "Gods who in the beginning said:

    ''Let there be light'',

    let our eyes rejoice

    looking at all beautiful things.

    Let every person welcome and see the light of your love.

    Let the light of your words permeate the whole earth.

    Grant that we may love one another.

    Lords, you are my light:

    without you I know not where I go,

    if you are with me

    my feet will walk in the way of life.

    Lords if you enlighten me, I will be able to enlighten

    and I will be able to be a small flame of your Love."

    He kept repeating that stupid litany, again and again, not even noticing that some guests had arrived. Clementine was on the verge of interrupting him, but Lance made her desist.

    "Sorry for the wait." He stood up and approached them after he was done. "You must be the honored Lady Quintia. It is my honor to serve the Gods by your side." A solemn tone. Perfect diction. And reverence she did not mind at all.

    Quaiesse would have begged him to keep a more informal tone, blathering nonsense about equality and being all humans under the sky of the Gods. But she wasn''t Quaiesse.

    "No, we''re the ones who should apologize for being late," Lance replied, his spine probably gone. Had he lost it in the lower floors? Maybe some Adept of Surshana took it, mistaking it for one of armat.

    "These are difficult times. Alah Alaf can be sympathetic to those who serve him." What did he have to say, however, for those who mocked him?

    "We hope we have not disturbed your ceremony."

    "I was almost done anyway. Propitiatory rites like this are the practice before a difficult task." Small, icy eyes betrayed that serene expression he was trying to sport. Killer eyes, which Clementine knew all too well. Like watching yourself in a mirror.

    "Tell me. What does the mission consist of?" Having ascertained that if she kept the men talking they would only waste further time, and not to be smothered by that all too oppressive air, Clementine took the floor.

    Nigun walked over to a desk, from which he pulled out a map that, though well kept, showed signs of wear and tear.

    "We will head here," he pointed to a place west of their current position, where the details were blurry. "Horurener patrols have been spotted in the vicinity of Tiro. We will find out how many there are and if there are any other beastmen in the vicinity."

    "And once we ascertain their presence, what will we do?" Clementine asked.

    "What we always do," replied the Captain, clutching the rosary bead in his hands even more tightly. "We will exterminate this scum from the face of this world once and for all!"

    Clementine tightened her lips in a smile, for her tedium was coming to an end.

    Cities State Alliance, Bebard

    "There is something strange." Antilene continued to stroll through the streets of the town of Bebard, expecting to find any welcome, but all that awaited her were almost empty streets and a few people walking the roads without uttering a word, in complete silence.

    "Had not the mayor been warned of your stay in the city?" At her side Melody was trying all too hard to maintain a professional air, perhaps so as not to look like a naive little girl before her Queen''s eyes, but it was all too obvious to the half-elf that the varied presence of races amidst the small crowd was an unusual sight for someone who was used to communicating only with her own kind.

    Antilene did not hold it against her. She too did not feel entirely comfortable being surrounded by all that filth. When she saw an orc walk past them in armor, her weapon was almost drawn to eliminate him on the spot, only to realize that he was just a town guard passing through on his rounds.

    "I think Etienne took care of it, and I''m sure I received a letter of reply from the mayor herself, wishing me to visit and agreeing to meet today. Maybe she just forgot." Although that was rather unlikely. Antilene tried to distract herself as they made their way to their destination, looking for something to confirm that those worries were just a bad play of her mind.

    Parallel roads intersected at right angles forming a grid of rows of rectangular blocks in a monotony that was somehow relaxing.

    Surely, though, there was something that caught her attention. Most of all, a few centaurs stood out, silently inspecting every smallest detail of their surroundings, as if intent on studying them closely. Moreover, they were never alone, but always accompanied by soldiers wearing the same equipment as the city guard.

    "I have never seen anything like it," commented Melody, widening her eyes at the sight of that bizarre but on the whole seemingly perfect union of humanoid and horse. "Is this also the first time you have encountered such fascinating creatures, Your Majesty?"

    "No, many years ago a tribe of their kind tried to sneak through the Theocracy by way of the north passage," the half-elf''s mind returned to events she thought had been long forgotten. "They must have passed through the plains of Katze. They were few in number, malnourished and exhausted. My intervention would not even have been necessary, but I suppose the peculiarity of the situation sent the Cardinals of the time into a panic."

    Or perhaps Rufus just wanted to use the opportunity to allow her to train with opponents with whom she was unfamiliar. An opportunity that had not really been beneficial, to be honest. More than valiant warriors, they were a bunch of colts - was that the correct term? - and women tired from the long journey. Of warriors there were very few, and not of great skill. But it was evident that those she was now observing were of a far different make. "At the time those were far smaller, according to my memories. And they did not carry expensive equipment like the ones they are wearing now." The difference in quality between the metal of their armor, gleaming and dent-free, and that of the other soldiers, worn and dull, was like that between day and night.

    "I don''t know much about it, but do you think there is a difference in rank? Perhaps the centaurs act as lieutenants or patrol leaders," ventured Melody, arousing Antilene''s puzzlement.

    "I don''t think so. The other soldiers seem to be sticking far too close together, as if they don''t want to let them out of their sight." Although the streets were quite spacious, almost far too big for young girls like them, the half-elf noticed the numerous maneuvers the hooves of the horse bodies had to perform to execute the smallest movement. "And likewise, passers-by watch them in awe. It is not a sight they are accustomed to. They probably belong to a foreign delegation." She seemed to remember that the Union was in conflict with races of demi-humans living on the plains to the west, although she was not up to date with the latest events.

    "I see," murmured the maid, with a determined look that tried to convey the intention to treasure what she had just heard. Antilene hadn''t said anything surprising, indeed someone with appropriate ranger, rogue or other specialized training could certainly have found some flaws in that elementary reasoning dictated by experience and common sense rather than some concrete skill. "Now that I pay more attention, the mothers hold the children tightly, while the men keep their heads and eyes down, as if they want to avoid any contact."

    One of the centaurs, whose height exceeded two meters, turned sharply, provoking the frightened reaction of a child who escaped from his mother''s hand before the latter could realize it, heading in a fear-driven wild rush right in the direction of the half-elf, until he slammed into her legs.

    "Excuse me... didn''t mean to... he''s just a child," the mother hastened to apologize worriedly, as she helped the little one up from the ground. Fluffy fox ears twitched in rhythm with what appeared to be disingenuous excuses, wads of disgusting hair, flea nests and who knows how many other insects and disgusting little creatures, covering a squashed snout.

    "It''s alright," words and emotions were not in perfect harmony. Antilene couldn''t help but show an expression tending towards disgust as she cleaned her trousers of the small remnants of dust and hair left attached after the scuffle, almost obsessively.

    "Here. Let me help you," Melody helped both the demi-human child and his mother to their feet. The little one and the half-elf''s gazes crossed, until the former quickly averted them in embarrassment.

    When they were back on their feet, the mother patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to speak.

    "I am deeply sorry," he spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper. The whiskers of his muzzle vibrated imperceptibly, lulled by the quiet afternoon breeze.

    Antilene merely shook her head, to make it clear that she had accepted the small gesture. Melody exchanged a few more words with her mother, reassuring her that no problems or any other complications would arise.

    "Melody," said Antilene, when they were finally alone. "Come closer." The maid whitened, believing she had made an unforgivable mistake. Then Antilene smiled warmly, to let her know there was nothing to worry about. When they were close enough, the half-elf placed her hands on those of the elf. "[Remove Diseases]!" She exclaimed. A soft light covered the elf''s hands, reflecting a shade in her black eyes that widened in surprise.

    "I don''t understand," Melody stammered.

    "Strangers can be carriers of disease. We don''t want you to catch something, do we?" When she had finished, Antilene patted her, checking that everything was all right, heedless of the blush that coloured Melody''s face. "Everything should be fine now. Be sure to let me know if you experience any unusual symptoms."

    "I will! Thank you for your consideration!" Her red hair seemed brighter in combination with that grateful expression.

    The two women continued on their way, arriving in the middle of the agora, where the town hall was located. An inconspicuous building that would have gone unnoticed among all the others in the city, with windows lined up under simple arches. At the height of the windows on the first floor were statues of people from the past, perhaps the previous governors of the city, with small reliefs highlighting the highlights of their lives in a few sentences.

    The main square was surrounded by the shaded colonnades of covered walkways, opened at the entrance with columns lining the side of the building; creating a safe, enveloping, and protective atmosphere. The streets were enclosed by houses with frescoed walls round inner courtyards. The picture was concluded by temples devoted to the Six Great Gods, the Four Gods and numerous other faiths that Antilene was unfamiliar with.

    Here, everyday life was still vibrant. A few merchants of every race and age tried to attract the attention of the two elves, offering magical amulets which they claimed were ''the product of the wisdom of ancient arcana nevermore revealed'' or jewelry ''belonging to the personal treasures of Queens and Princesses of empires now vanished''. Antilene bought nothing for herself, but decided to purchase a pair of embroidered silver brooches and some enchanted rings that protected against disease for Agravaine and the two servants.

    "Compared to your fellow citizens, you do not look downcast. What is the difference?" She asked, as she was intent on paying.

    The merchant, an aged but still vigorous man, replied, "We recognise an opportunity when we see it, that is the difference. If one is not able to adapt to change, one would not be able to practice this profession."

    "And what would those changes be?"

    The merchant chuckled, before dispelling her doubts. "You are not from around here, are you? I should have known from your complexion. There are very few wood elves in these parts of the world. And those that are there, are not as well off as you," he passed the gold coins he had received as payment through his fingers, to check their authenticity.

    "You are right. We are guests of the mayor." Antilene would have expected some reaction, but the man remained unperturbed.

    "In any case," he continued, without giving the matter too much thought, "if you are headed to the town hall, you will soon find out everything. I could tell you myself but," he opened the palm of his right hand, showing greed, "everything has a price."

    "What we bought will suffice for now."

    Antilene walked away, leaving him alone, Melody following a short distance behind her.

    At the entrance to the municipal building, a pair of guards, a beardless dwarf with a pair of symbols that resembled inverted triangles on his cheeks and an elf with tanned skin, stood between them. "Halt! Who are you?" They asked in unison. "The mayor is currently busy and cannot receive visitors," this time only the dwarf continued, casting glances of suspicion first at Antilene and then at her companion. He had so many weapons on his body that he could well have been mistaken for one of those infamous merchants of death who wandered near the Abelion Hills.

    "We have an appointment with Lady Kista," the half-elf replied calmly, tightening in her jacket. "It is not good manners to keep guests waiting."

    "And who might you be?" The elf asked, struggling to sustain Antilene''s gaze. A dark elf was for sure an unusual view in that part of the world.

    "Antilene Heran Fouche. And this is my lady-in-waiting, Melody."

    Upon hearing that name, the elf withdrew the spear that until a few seconds before had been pointing at them. "The savior..." he muttered in disbelief, the words choking in his mouth. "The hero who defeated the tyrant and freed our people from oppression... We had been warned of your arrival but I did not think you would actually arrive..."

    "Are you also an elf of Evasha?" Melody was delighted to have finally found her own kind.

    "My father was. He married a human from Veneria, and from their union I was born. But he never stopped telling me stories about our homeland." An ill-concealed regret leaked from his voice. "I am only sorry that he could not live long enough to know that the nightmare is finally over."

    ''Here marriages between different races are accepted or, at least, not prosecuted.'' Antilene touched the ear under the hair, not knowing how to take that news. She opted to leave possible considerations to the future, though delighted would not have been the best way to describe her emotions.

    "So you would be the famous Kingslayer," unlike his comrade, the dwarf was not impressed. "I would have expected better. How can a little body like that hide a great warrior?"

    "I wonder about that too," the half-elf shrugged, giving no weight to the question. "In any case, can we go in?"

    The dwarf spat on the ground. "We have orders not to let anyone pass." And then he spat again. A pity there were no plants around. The raw material for watering did not seem to be lacking. His gifts were wasted on the rocky ground. "If it were up to me, I''d kill those stupid quadrupeds on the spot." The spear he wielded appeared to be sharpening under his blinding gaze. "And instead... let them wander around like they own the place, leaving them as much time as possible to get a feel for our city. Unheard of. That''s what happens to elect a child fresh from the womb. Spineless, I say."

    "Don''t say that, Hatoi." Unlike the little guy, the dark elf had lowered his weapon and was beginning to show more friendliness. "Lady Kista is doing her best to ensure our safety. If we had refused the Satrap''s demands, things might have turned out differently." Then, turning towards Antilene, he said as condescendingly as possible, as if he had predicted her thoughts, "Do not judge our lady too harshly. She is only aware that if a war were to break out, our chances would be feebler than a withered old flower."

    "Your lady must be deeply distressed by the situation," commented Melody, letting out sympathy. The maid had been used to living under constant danger from stronger enemies all her life, after all. It was not strange that she saw herself in that particular context of helplessness. "Do you think we could do anything to help them, Your Grace?"

    Antilene had no time to answer. "Imagine if we need the help of a little girl. The last thing our army needs is another head creating even more mess in the command line," Hatoi massaged those strange symbols, thoughtfully. "Not that I mean to offend you, of course." But that stunted excuse didn''t sound very sincere.

    "As if I hadn''t heard anything," Antilene retorted, with more than a smile, a string of white teeth.

    "I''m sure someone capable of eliminating the tyrant would have no trouble making the Equestrian King eat dust! A lone hero who eliminates cruel warlords with a single swing of his sword! A fable-like story came to life!" Far too much enthusiasm came from the dark elf.

    Although Melody was beginning to feel a share in her fellow kinship''s ruminations, Antilene rolled her eyes. And she wasn''t the only one, it seemed.

    "Bah, a kid like you doesn''t understand anything about war, Grape." Hatoi sported the same bored expression as the half-elf, showing that similarities went far beyond simple concepts like race. "Even if your heroine were to succeed in eliminating the head, and I emphasize the if... Always no offense, of course."

    "Of course."

    "As I was saying," resumed the dwarf, clearing his throat with a cough. "Even if she were to succeed in this endeavor, it would not solve our problems. Before long, a new leader on the Great Plains would re-emerge and we would be back where we started. This should have been the perfect opportunity to put aside our differences, but instead we let them divide us even more. But I suppose it''s too late now..."

    "That''s not true!" Exclaimed Grape indignantly. "Prince Alexander has not yet been..." but those last words died in his mouth. The dark elf lowered his gaze, too embarrassed to continue counter-arguing.

    ''It seems clear that there is no shortage of trouble around here. What to do?''

    Melody looked at her questioningly, while Antilene reflected on the situation. It was clear by now that she would not be allowed to cross the threshold until the centaur delegation had left that place. What to do? Stay and wait? Or return to the hotel where Agravaine and Etienne were waiting for them? They wouldn''t have much else to do, and the day was still long.

    As she tried to find a resolution to those indecisions, the half-elf heard the round sound of drums, which ended the silence. Loud and decisive, it came more from a display of power, with that high and fearsome timbre, than a sincere desire to give a memorable performance for the joy of the listeners.

    The palace doors slammed open, and a small group of centaur soldiers, dressed in the same manner as those Antilene had seen in the city, began to come out, the restless pawing of their hooves following the rhythm of their instruments.

    Opening the line was a centaur wielding a long golden sword, while a giant wooden bow rested on his back. He wore an entirely silver-plated cuirass, finished in pure gold. Decorating the head was a hemispherical helmet complete with padding agemated in gold at the cusp, the edges and the spandrels, reserves decorated with characters and wild animals on backgrounds chiseled with foliage and flowers; edges also ornamented, complete with gown.

    He turned his attention towards Antilene, showing her tiny green eyes as sharp as the weapon he wielded. The half-elf''s fingers began to twitch, waiting for a reaction that never came. The centaur knight resumed on his way, heedless of that brief exchange, advancing as if she had never been there, stopping in the middle of the square with the others. Disappointed by that lack of action, the Elf Queen noticed that the doors were closing.

    At the end of that compact line was a woman with long brown hair, her expression wrinkled with worry as she adjusted the hem of the long white tunic she was wearing.

    "I hope you will think carefully about my proposal." Beside her was another of those quadruped creatures. Smaller than the others, its lower body resembled a sheep more than a horse. The luxurious robes of brightly coloured leather that adorned his body attested to his high position. "The assembly of the citizens of Listaran has been very inclined to accept the benevolence of our king, and both West and East Gaith are about to waver at our demands." He lowered his torso slightly, his long beard almost caressing the woman''s face. "I would rather see you in the middle of a play or a sporting contest than on a battlefield the next time we meet, Lady Kista."

    The mayoress'' dark eyes remained fixed on the large pair of horns that towered from her interlocutor''s head. "Likewise, Satrap Tiribazus." Her tone sounded sincere. "It''s a shame we both know that will not happen." Even though the woman was giving all her strength to remain impervious, it would have been obvious even to the untrained eye that what was being passed off as an imposing aura, was simple fear. The difference in size was still considerable, and seemed even more accentuated by their respective positions. "The main army of the Union has not yet been defeated, and Prince Alexander still holds out. If I were your monarch, I would begin to worry."

    A derisive laugh was the only response she received. The same way an adult dismisses the boastful affirmation of an infant.

    "Fucking bastard," Hatoi muttered under his breath, though he didn''t seem entirely convinced he didn''t want to be heard. Grape tried to calm his friend down, before any disaster could arise from one word said too many.

    "That does not sound very friendly, your majesty," Melody whispered in Antilene''s ear. It was evident that the maid was beginning to find herself uncomfortable.

    Of a different opinion was the Satrap. Confident of his position, Tiribazus moved away, but only a few steps, noticing in the process Antilene, who had been watching that brief conversation from the beginning.

    "And you would be?"

    "Just a mere bystander," the half-elf replied, atonally.

    "You are..." Even Lady Kista had now become aware of her presence. "Queen Antilene?" She opened her mouth slightly, realizing that she had completely forgotten about the visit. "Are you here already?"

    "A Queen?" The non-centaur''s curiosity was piqued. "I thought the only Queen in the union was the old ruler of Ris. Interesting." He tickled his beard hairs as he analyzed the half-elf thoughtfully. Stubby, fat fingers, not of a fighter. "That our information network has been lacking? Or was there a recent royal succession we had not been informed of?"

    "No, she is..." The mayoress did not have the opportunity to finish her sentence.

    "I come from a distant kingdom." Antilene moved forward slightly, to prevent Tiribazus from getting too close. "I wanted to take advantage of Lady Kista''s hospitality, but I found that someone beat me to it. And judging by the expression on my host''s face, yours was not such a welcome stay."

    "Since when do elves display such thoughtlessness?"

    "Since when does a Bauriar display such arrogance? There is nothing more pathetic than a shepherd posing as a king." Struck in the middle.

    "I did not think my race was known beyond the Great Plains." The Satrap flashed a fake smile, his eyes closed in a perfect imitation of friendliness. Far too much so. "The world is always bigger than one imagines."

    "The education I was given was not lacking in certain details and finesses." Antilene took a step forward. Tiribazus two backs. His retinue moved with him, surrounding the half-elf. "I have no intention of fighting," she said, her hands raised to show she had no hostile intentions. "However, while I will not be the first to draw forth my own sword, you may rest assured that I will be the last to retract it into its sheath."

    None of the guards dared move. The one who had met his gaze earlier, and who had all the air of being the commander, turned to the satrap. "Your Excellency Tiribazus, give me the order and we will cut out the tongue of this insolent one."

    Antilene kept standing still. The centaurs raised bows and spears. The Satrap said nothing, but continued to observe. Grape held Melody still, who was beginning to fidget. Hatoi seemed to be about to jump into the fray. Kista prayed to the Gods.

    Antilene continued to do nothing. The commander kicked his hooves, a trail of dust lifted. The centaurs followed his example, hesitating. Melody shouted something.

    Hatoi gritted his teeth. Grape held his grip firmly. Krista closed her eyes. Antilene lowered her arms...

    "No!" Tiribazus raised his voice sufficiently so that everyone could hear him. "We did not come here to create havoc, Arsames. Make your men lower their weapons!" The order was addressed to the most imposing centaur. Although he did not hesitate to carry it out, he kept his attention fixed on the half-elf. "Good. I see we''ve calmed down and come to our senses," the bauriar''s tone softened, but from the labored breathing and bloodlust emitted from those small pupils, Antilene determined that his wrath was not placated.

    "I am happy to see that an unfortunate situation was avoided for your men."

    The Satrap''s nostrils were on the verge of emitting smoke, but Tiribazus continued with the act, to the delight of the half-elf. If he had any luck, he would have paid off that newly formed debt on the battlefield. Or misfortune, depending on the point of view.

    "Satrap Tiribazus, I hope this unpleasantness will not result in a diplomatic incident," Lady Kista had found the strength to intervene just when it was all over. "I would not want you to have to report a simple misunderstanding to your King."

    "Oh, Lady Kista, you have nothing to worry about," the bauriar reassured her with false politeness, displaying a row of razor-sharp canines. "The decision of your fate was made the moment you refused my offer. But have no fear, I will do everything in my power not to bring this beautiful city to complete ruin. As the future ruler of this area, it will be in my best interest." He lowered his torso, in what was a grotesque imitation of a bow. "My regards."

    When they were gone, the mayoress sighed, melting like ice in the sun.

    "Good," Antilene murmured, stretching the muscles in her legs that had remained numb from the lack of action. "Why don''t you invite me in, Lady Kista? I think we have a lot to talk about."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Beta readers: hachslashbash, whostolemytea

 Chapter 39: Its a matter of prospective

    Chapter 39

    It is a matter of perspective

    Cities State Alliance, Bebard

    "So... I think there''s a lot you want to talk to me about." Antilene took a seat on one of the leather chairs that adorned the study. The soft feel of the fabric caressed her skin, bringing relaxation to her aching muscles. "Perhaps you could begin by explaining why there was not the slightest mention in your welcome letter of the pleasant company I found myself sharing your attention with."

    Kista remained standing, her gaze trying to escape that question, her attention focusing first on one of the others present, then on a shelf, then on another piece of furniture, as if those inanimate objects might have given her the solution to her problems. "Their visit came sooner than expected. I am sorry to have let such a spectacle be your greeting card." The woman finally sat down at the desk on the left side of the room. Rows of documents were placed in maniacally ordered bundles. "I did not think it would be possible for your visits to coincide, but between what one hopes and what actually happens there is always an unfortunate difference." She bit her lip, with such intensity that it seemed to be on the verge of coming off.

    "It is how we react to these errors in our calculations that defines the kind of people we are," Antilene assumed a composed air, preventing her overly comfortable figure from coming across as irreverent. "Why don''t you explain the current situation from the beginning, so that I can understand what your worries are? And offer a helping hand, if necessary. "

    "Lady Kista. Are you sure you want to share sensitive information with what is, after all, a mere stranger?" Intervened Hatoi, doubtful. Like his companion Grape, the dwarf had followed his mistress, not leaving her alone for a second, as if to make up for lost time outside. With the exception of an elderly waiter who brought various drinks for refreshment, they were the only members of the mayoress'' escort. "We don''t even know if we can trust her. In fact, she may very well be interested in pivoting on our weakness to gain an advantage to our detriment."

    Sensible reasoning. Antilene was pleased to see that there was no shortage of people who were comfortable expressing their thoughts. Nevertheless...

    "I am currently only here on a personal whim. Other than my word, I can give you no guarantee that what Messer Dwarf accuses me of is false. If you should make such a request, I will take my entourage sitting down and remove myself from the Union territory as soon as possible." There was no uncertainty in her voice, nor annoyance. The half-elf clucked her tongue and cast a glance at Melody who sat beside her, intent on drinking some kind of strange wine, warning her to prepare to leave at any moment. "But," she continued, returning to focus on Kista. "If there''s one thing I can''t stand," the tone became more serious, solemn almost, with an inflection that if it wasn''t furious, sounded at least irritated, "it''s beasts who wear fine robes and precious jewels just for the sake of being called human. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe that cattle should not mix with respectable people."

    "I think... I think we can trust Queen Antilene." Grape stood up to show confidence, an imposingness that was indeed alien to him. "She who defeated the tyrant must absolutely be an exceptional person and worthy of respect! We have been given a magnificent gift in receiving her help. If we refused it, this would only make us fools!" One alone showed the praise of ten. A magnificent demonstration of the power of fame! "I mean... Mine is only the humble opinion of an ignorant guard," he fiddled with his fingers, enthusiasm replaced by more common meekness. It was inevitable that the fire that burned so fiercely would be extinguished just as quickly. "But I think it is in our best interest to follow the advice of such a heroine."

    "Well done for managing to impose on yourself for a good ten seconds, boy," Hatoi passed a hand over his shoulder, as if to say ''well done''. There were subtexts not fully made explicit between the two of them. A surrogate parental figure? After all, the dark elf had said he had lost his own father. Even if that bizarre dwarf didn''t quite fill the role of loving parent. "If I didn''t know you, I could almost believe I was in the presence of Judge Nomoi, I say." He smoothed his hairless chin with swift strokes.

    Antilene had never seen dwarves in person before, only in old coloured guides illustrating the various races for the Theocracy''s military corps, but the total absence of hair not only on the face, but also on the rest of the visible body of the little guard left her dumbfounded. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it was at the same time an image that until that moment her mind had cultivated with hard work, and which was now being swept away with astounding ease.

    Kista sighed, expelling so much air from her body that Antilene had the impression that the woman''s spirit had also fled away, in search of peace that it could not find in that prison of flesh and bone. "I don''t think I have many alternatives at the moment. Lady Antilene, may I trust in your discretion? If the other cities were to learn of the ease with which we share our affairs, they would certainly not take it well." Relations between the Union members had a few cracks in them, it seemed. Was it a vestige of an ancient past or a new state of affairs dictated by the inauspicious events that plagued them?

    "You have my word," sacred oath with right hand over heart, in the manner of the temple of light. For the followers of the Six, a promise that would take precedence over life itself. To laymen, a foolish gesture devoid of meaning. Into which category did the mayoress fall?

    "Well, may I trust you then." The second? "Knowing that you have taken a sacred oath by your faith puts me more at ease." No, the first. A pleasant surprise. "What do you know of our current situation?" Kista asked, continuing to tidy up the desk. Pens, pencils and papers were arranged with millimetric precision in an arrangement that must have been a source of comfort to their owner.

    "I''ve only heard a few bits of news scattered here and there," replied the half-elf, careful not to reveal too much. They both knew where what she knew came from, but it was appropriate to keep up appearances. "Of course, your war with the Great Plains is common knowledge even to us outsiders. But besides the title by which your enemy calls himself, The Equestrian King, if I am not mistaken, what I am aware of is sparse and confusing. For example, totally obscure to me are the causes from which this conflict originates."

    Of course, there was only one cause. Beneath the refinements and philosophies of war there was always a common denominator. The rest was enrichment posed as mirrors for the larks. Make-up, precious clothes and jewelry might make an individual more glamorous, but what lay underneath remained the same, no matter how hard they tried.

    "The official reason is a territorial dispute. According to the Great Plains Nation, what is now much of the Union''s territory once belonged to the old empire that controlled much of the east." The mayoress herself recited those notions mechanically, a performance she did not believe in but had repeated so many times that it now seemed almost natural. "For years the lands of the centaurs were divided into petty internal conflicts and under the control of various warlords, so that these proclamations were just empty words in the wind. At least until a decade ago, when their current ruler took power."

    "And now that they no longer have internal problems, they are ready to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs." Something already seen. Chaos and then order that needed to be maintained. How else but by creating conflict with the outside. "Just out of curiosity, is there any evidence to back up their statements?"

    "Much of the documents of the time were destroyed during the conflict with the Evil Deities. All that''s left from that time is this," Kista pulled out a small, bound booklet from the desk''s scullery, handing it to the half-elf.

    "What is it about?" Antilene inquired, leafing through it slowly. Various articles were repeated again and again, causing her a great headache just glimpsing them.

    "It is a replica of the Mother Law of the Union. One of the cornerstones of our alliance, written and ratified by the founding fathers at the dawn of the defeat of the Evil Deities." Indeed, it recalled some of the texts the half-elf had already glimpsed listlessly during her time in the Theocracy, though the writing style was less concise and orderly than those to which she was accustomed. Baroque and full of digressions, it seemed more like a literal text than a legislative one. "It is the minimum content to which every city must hold itself. As long as the rules stated there are adhered to, each of our cities is allowed to govern itself. If you read the introduction, you will see that the preface speaks of an enlightened age of union and cooperation followed by one of darkness and division, advocating a return to the former and abandonment of the latter."

    "And the former would also be the age to which the Equestrian King would like to return. Cooperation and union. Under his leadership, of course." Far too generous. A ruler willing to do anything for the welfare of all. And all was such a broad definition that for sure included himself.

    "So we believe. But as you too can see, the claims are weak, to put it mildly." The woman raised her head, with an unnatural sense of peace, perhaps because she had accepted the current situation. "Not that it makes much difference. First you make sure you can make a law effective, then you worry about writing it. When the conquest is over, the reasons will appear far more convincing."

    "Bullshit, I say," Hatoi most of all was still burning with the desire to fight. The marks under his eyes emitted a dull light as the dwarf asserted his objections. "Even if that were true, these are matters that go back more than two centuries. These are our lands now, not those malformed horses. If they think they can act like masters and take what is ours, we will respond with iron, I say."

    Grape raised his arm in support. Perhaps that was not the right way to put it. He raised it up to the height of his long ears, then left it hanging in midair questioningly.

    "You know I feel the same way as you Hatoi. The prospect of coming under their rule does not make me any happier than it makes you," Kista found herself agreeing, her lips curving slightly in a dejected expression. "But our military strength is currently lacking to be able to continue resisting their assaults."

    "Is the disparity between your forces really that great?" Antilene was used to the common human experience, where each race became predatory by virtue of the mere physical advantages they had. But in the Union, humans were only one of several species that made up the social fabric. "Or were there other problems that caused difficulties?"

    "The Union army has no definite hierarchy," the mayoress began to explain, carefully calibrating her words. There was doubt in her about what she was saying, one part divided by a trust that wanted to be well placed, another that could not keep skepticism quiet. Being reluctant to share sensitive information was quite normal. Antilene would have been offended if the opposite had happened. "Currently, Prince Alexander of Karnassus is the one who leads our military forces. But that does not mean that the other generals are always inclined to listen to his orders, as he is the only human in the chain of command. Besides..." the woman paused, drumming her fingers on the wood of the desk. Small chimes, slower and slower, drilled into the half-elf''s ears. "I can''t find the best way to explain it..."

    "Is something bothering you?" Antilene was used to demonstrations of uncertainty, especially when people were talking to her. There was a time when she would have externalized her disturbance, but she made an effort to be more understanding. "If I may ask, why did you specifically choose the Prince of Karnassus as your general-in-chief? Is there any particular reason? Or is it mere custom?"

    "For the same reason that any government with any salt in its noggin chooses a commander," Hatoi blurted out, one hand hastily tousling his short silver hair. "Results. Of the several pitched battles we had with the centaurs, only one resulted in a victory, and Prince Alexander was in command. By the skin of his teeth, I say. But still a victory."

    "Unfortunately, that was over a year ago," Kista added, letting herself sink further into the chair, as if expecting to be absorbed into the wood. "He managed to train the grip on our necks, but not to stop it completely. The most pessimistic would say it has done nothing but prolong our agony."

    It was not difficult to see which category the mayoress of Bebard fell into.

    The dwarf nimbly moved his small legs to find himself a few paces away from the half-elf, their gazes touching. "Now, a small victory in a war counts for nothing, if subsequent conflicts have resulted in defeat after defeat, I say."

    "And what state is this Prince currently in?" Melody''s question was fitting. Although Antilene already had a clear idea in her mind.

    "No one knows," Grape lowered his head despondently. The tips of his ears also seemed to follow the motion of the main part. "Karnassus was besieged a few months ago. It held out for a long time, but finally succumbed just a couple of weeks before your arrival." A dull light could be glimpsed in his green eyes, giving his gray connotation an even more depressing mood. If he still harbored hopes for the Prince''s possible survival, these were rapidly going downhill.

    "And since then these ''peace talks'' with the other cities have begun. If you can call negotiations the rapacious wings of a vulture swooping down on an enemy carcass." Hatoi snorted with as much breath as he had in his body. Honestly, an impressive amount for such a small physique. "If they were not so attached to the ground they tread, I would swear our enemies were harpies, I say."

    "If the Prince was so important to your strategy, why did no one go to help him during the siege?" A figure pulling the soldiers along was essential, leaving aside any doubts about his actual abilities. Antilene refused to believe that possible disagreements could have led to such a poor choice on the part of the remaining Union generals.

    "It wasn''t that we didn''t want to. What was lacking was resources. The number of our soldiers is definitely less when compared to our opponents." The mayor shrugged a lock of hair that fell back on her forehead with a peremptory hand gesture. "And now all that''s left is for us to try and patch a ship with hundreds of holes in it, as the water has invaded the hold and the crew begin to abandon it." There was still a shred of determination underneath all that desperation. But so deep that almost eluded the eye.

    In short, the classic case of dwarf versus giant. Had she had to evaluate the situation, Antilene could have described it with one word: impossible.

    Fortunately, she was an expert at making the impossible possible. Someone would have called it her talent.

    "And what are your plans for the future? Yours and all the other members of the alliance, I mean." Now all that remained was to study the further twists and turns of the story, to determine what the best plan of action for the future might be.

    "In a week''s time there will be a council meeting in Great Wythes, where each of the cities'' spokesmen will make their case for the future. Well, Your Highness can imagine what the most common opinion is at the moment." Surrender when one was still able to fight. Was that a decision to condemn or to praise? Antilene leaned towards the former, but she wasn''t so sure. After all, she had never really needed to make such a choice. "Would you like me to summarize the main points of each argument for you? Every leader has different opinions, born of their experience against the Great Plains." The mayoress quickly scribbled, perhaps too quickly, a couple of notes on a sheet of paper.

    "Thank you. I''ll read it later, now would just confuse me further than necessary," Antilene handed it to Melody, who in turn slipped it carefully into her bag. "I think the time for chit-chat is over," she said, getting up from the chair. The half-elf had the feeling that she had been in that place for ages. "At the moment only one thing interests me to know. Lady Cabelia, what are your intentions? To fight or to lay down your arms? Depending on what you will say, I too will know what my future will be."

    "Humpf," Kista smiled in a manner that left no other doubt. "If they want our lands, they will have to work hard for them. This was the beloved city of my ancestors, founded before my grandfather''s grandfather was even born. No matter if we have to fight alone, we will not surrender!" The woman also followed Antilene''s example, rising from her chair. She had recovered a little of her vitality, and was finally showing the pride of a great leader.

    "Well said," Hatoi shared that enthusiasm, restraining himself from unsheathing one of the sharp axes he carried at his side. "Do not worry, Lady Cabelia. This dwarf is ready to follow the traditions of his people and erect a new mountain for the Great Artisans. Made of horse bodies, this time, I say."

    "That doesn''t sound very pleasant," Melody commented, intimidated. The prospect of war was not supposed to be appealing to her. Was it for Antilene not to share that sentiment?

    But bizarre costumes aside, the half-elf was undoubtedly happy with what she heard. "Perfect. Then I will be inclined to lend you my help."

    Grape brightened at those words. "With the tyrant slayer at our side, not even the Equestrian King could be a problem." Then, turning to his mistress with unusual confidence, he proclaimed, "My Lady! Hope lives once more. We will not have to abandon our homes or break our bonds!"

    "So be it. And if we must perish, that we may do so wield swords, not flags of surrender," an unexpected warrior spirit. Was Kista hiding some surprise or was it a mere shadow the woman projected to convince herself before others? "Lady Antilene," the woman''s dark irises began to glow with new vitality, a rekindled flame that had never left, it just needed a little spark. "I have been an indecent hostess. Let me treat you and your attendants to dinner. I cannot guarantee you a sumptuous feast such as you will surely be accustomed to, but I will certainly be able to satiate your hunger and rest your limbs."

    "I accept with much pleasure. After a long journey, it would be nice to get something under the teeth other than the usual rations," it was since she had left the Empire that Antilene had not tasted anything other than the rations Jircniv had given her before leaving. Excellent for sure, but even the most sumptuous of dishes gets boring if eaten over and over again. "Let me go and call the remaining members of my group left in the inn."

    "There will be no need. Grape will arrange for them to be summoned right away."

    The dark elf stepped forward, already about to embark on what in his mind was sure to be a feat worth remembering. Some were content with little.

    "Let me accompany him," said Melody. Voice soft and gaze low, eyes begging to be of service. "I would not feel comfortable knowing I was not performing a duty that would normally fall to me."

    "Sure, go ahead." The maid brightened, a precious gift would not have made her as joyful. Antilene was only glad she could finally enjoy a moment of rest. Alone. "Private Grape, I entrust you with my adorable attendant. Can I trust you?"

    The dark elf became the crimson elf. "I will place my sword at Lady Melody''s service," and he gripped the long spear. Well, he was almost there. "And my life!" He added with all too much conviction. A simple yes would have sufficed.

    "I am sure that should you come across a legendary evil creature or a powerful undead sorcerer in the middle of the town square, Melody will be safe under your protection."

    "Yes, ma''am!" Not a trace of uncertainty. Absolute seriousness in a pose that desperately tried to appear proud. Commendable, in a way.

    "There was some phrase in that sarcasm, I say," commented Hatoi, when the two elves had left the room. "The slayer of tyrants is also the slayer of comedy?" The dwarf shot his arrow, though unbowed.

    The half-elf shrugged, cashing in on the blow. "I have been blessed with at least one of these two qualities. I will leave it to you to discover which one."A minimum of mystery had to be maintained if one wanted to remain charming. Those who revealed all their tricks in an instant were condemned to a life of platitudes. "That is, unless you want to gratify your curiosity right now."

    The dwarf prepared to fight. Was it him as an individual who irritated her, or was there some truth to those rumors of rivalry between elves and dwarves? Antilene had always thought them baseless nonsense, but it was still true that before today she had never had the pleasure -or displeasure- of meeting one. Certainly not the most pleasant way to reconnect with her non-human heritage. Not that she actually intended to, of course.

    "Hatoi, why don''t you take your leave?" Kista''s question had the answer implied. "Your shift is long over. You don''t want to worry your husband, do you?" Heaven Gods, who could have married such a gruff man? Should that union have been a blessing for the dwarf, or a curse for such an unfortunate... dwarf? Or another race?

    Antilene had shortly ascertained that both marriages between different races and between members of the same sex were permitted in the Union. But what about both members of different species and of the same sex at the same time?

    Bizarre. It was amazing how a nation so close could also be so culturally distant. Perhaps some zealous preachers were right. The further away one got from the Gods... the more unnatural things became.

    "I just wanted to wait for someone else to arrive before you were left alone, My Lady. If anything should happen to you while I was relaxing..." unexpected kindness and apprehension buried beneath a bark that did not always appear as tough as it wanted to be. "And with the staff down to the bone, I don''t feel like leaving you with strangers, I say."

    Indeed, now that she paid attention, Antilene noticed how few servants she had come across in the municipal building. There were provincial churches in the Theocracy with more personnel at hand.

    "Now that Lady Antilene is with me, you have nothing to worry about," the mayor cast her a look in search of complicity. The half-elf replied with a nod. "I know how much you care about doing your job to the utmost, Hatoi. But if you were to be exhausted, there would be little you could do in a sudden dangerous situation."

    The dwarf snorted, but accepted defeat. "Please," he pleaded, addressing Antilene, "do not let anything bad happen to my lady. I owe her everything."

    "As long as she''s in my company, she''ll be in a barrel," the half-elf reassured him, raising her thumb confidently. From the way she was looked at by the other two that position did not look as she had pictured it in her mind. But it was too late to change. She had no choice but to pull straight to the end. Curse Rufus and his stories about the habits of the Gods. Wasn''t that the pose that reassured even the most scattered minds?

    Never could she have thought her father capable of making fun of her.

    Nevertheless, Hatoi finally cracked a smile. "I can leave without any worries in this case, I say." To be honest, it was not the way she would have preferred to alleviate the hostilities, but at least it was a start.

    When the dwarf was gone, only the two women remained in the room.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    "If I may take you into my confidence, you are not as I had imagined, Lady Antilene."

    "I hear that from many."

    Kista rubbed the muscles of her forehead, the weariness on her face evident. "It will not be easy to convince the other members of the Union to continue the war." She settled a red shawl over her shoulders, which undoubtedly made her look graceful. "You will have to persuade many different people, each with different ways of thinking. I do not know what your oratorical skills are, but even after all my years as a diplomat I would be in trouble."

    "Don''t worry. My oratorical skills are absolutely disastrous." The mayor looked at her questioningly, perhaps thinking she had not heard correctly. Unfortunately, heroines who excelled at everything existed only in fables. "But there will be no need to speak."

    "And what are you going to do?"

    "A demonstration."

    Aunt Nazaire used to say, "If you want to make a good omelet, you have to break a few eggs."

    Antilene wondered if she would be able to compare to her old nanny.

    South of the Slaine Theocracy, Tel-Hoorusan

    The day began with a prayer, as always.

    Some might have called it boring. Aeneas preferred to define it as a habit. Repeating the same gestures, the same words every morning, day after day gave him a feeling of control, a way to reduce the unpredictability in his life. It reminded the young captain of the Black Scripture that there were things in life that it was possible to lead, to command.

    And so, in the small, dark room, where the dawn light had not yet given its warmth, in one of the rare moments when one could feel the sweet and above all rare desert breeze, Aeneas went over the sermons and litanies, the songs and invocations he had been taught since he had memories. In a low voice, so that no one could hear him. Not that there was anyone who could. His quarters were secluded in the eastern wing of the palace, once a bustle of life judging by the many furnishings that still decorated the flats. Now only grim corridors where noises were distant memories.

    "Captain, may I come in?" There was a knock at the door. A faint but firm voice made its way through the religious silence. Aeneas did not even realize how much time had passed, immersed in that ritual.

    "Just a moment." He dressed quickly. Wearing armor in the impending sultriness would have been a foolhardy choice. But letting that sacred relic be left at the mercy of anyone would have been even worse. Not that he didn''t trust the men of the Theocracy. Not that he didn''t trust his comrades. Not that he didn''t trust anyone in particular.

    "I hope I haven''t kept you waiting." Aeneas opened the door. Quaiesse was standing in front of him, waiting unconcernedly. He was not alone. Two furballs, similar to common striped cats but with longer claws and two tails wagging boredly, looked at the young captain as one looked at a prey to munch on slowly. They reminded him of something, but he could not say what. Where the hell Quaiesse had found them, he didn''t even want to know.

    "It''s not a problem. We''re way ahead of schedule. Besides, like you, I''m not itching to get to our tasks." Aeneas had remained quiet, but it was evident that his eyes had spoken far too much. "The heroes of humanity reduced to babysitting a bored, sassy girl. There is something ironic about this. A macabre joke, which I, however, cannot understand." If Quaiesse had been allowed, he would have huffed with conviction, starting to rattle off the chain of infinitives of his grievances just to make the point. But, fortunately, the Quintia heir could not do that. When they train you from an early age to be perfect, you can almost convince yourself it''s true.

    "The preparations are almost over. It''s not long until the agreed date before the clash against the Sword Saint." Aeneas would have liked some more information, but the Tel-Hoorusan princess was not of many words. Not with him, at least. "If I''m honest," and he hardly ever was, "I don''t mind this quietness. There are few opportunities we are given to rest. Take it as an unscheduled holiday." And the Gods only knew how much they needed it. How much he needed it. If for once he didn''t have to spend days in abandoned forests or dark caves, where every being that dwelt there would try to kill them, eat them, torture them or worse, he certainly wouldn''t be the one to complain about it.

    "I suppose that''s one way to look at it. I don''t share it, but I understand it." One of the non-cats began rubbing on Quaiesse''s leg, getting an affectionate cuddle as a reward, filled with love and affection that the fifth seat rarely showed to friends, let alone strangers. If the creature had started walking on two legs and talking, not even its corpse would have remained intact for that affront. "What are the plans for today? You haven''t had breakfast yet, have you? Do you want to keep me company or would you rather join your little princess, like the other days?"

    "What I want doesn''t matter," though he would have much preferred the opposite. There were those who could choose and those who could not. He fell into the latter. "General Bulgari has given me the duty of protecting her and I intend to do so." If he could also get some information out of it, so much the better.

    Quaiesse laughed slightly. "But who will protect you from her? I heard that the first time you tried to eat at the same table, she threw a plate at you as a welcoming gesture."

    "Absurd stories without foundation. Apart from absolute silence, I received nothing from Princess Shaimaa." Whether she had then wanted to make those rumors reality was quite another matter. "Try to put yourself in her shoes. Half of her population is captive, the other half is under the rule of a foreign power. From several sides. I don''t know if in her place I could have shown the same firmness of spirit." Certainly, he could have shown less contempt.

    "Understanding is never to be condemned. But remember..." Quaiesse''s face became grave and unexpectedly serious. "Being indulgent at the decisive moment could prove fatal." The eyes became even more scarlet, resembling small, bloodshot moons. The calm timbre of his voice, however, remained unchanged. "One must not confuse pity with carelessness. Knives can hide everywhere. It is therefore good to remain alert," he said, placing special emphasis on those last words.

    "You have nothing to worry about. As long as there are trusted comrades to have my back and give me support, I will take no risks." He would have liked to add something else. An inspiring commander''s speech, a leader''s speech! But nothing came to mind. "By the way, how are Cassandra and Rinaldo? We don''t know when we will have to leave, so it would be good if they are ready at all times."

    Aeneas had not seen the two for days now. He knew they were certainly doing better than he was, but it was still his job as their captain to keep himself informed. Besides, anything was better than silence. He was getting so used to it that he felt like going mad sometimes.

    "Cassandra is helping the operational reconnaissance teams. She seems to be making herself at home." Fancy way of saying she had already taken command. Oracle was like that. Aeneas did not envy her new subordinates. "Rinaldo on the other hand," the Fifth Seat continued, overthinking. "I think he''s giving the priests a helping hand. Mainly with treatment and disease monitoring, but if I''m not mistaken he also told me he helps with confessions once in a while."

    A responsibility not usually entrusted to the paladins, but when there was a shortage of personnel they made do with the few means available.

    "It''s been a long time since my last confession." The last time was more than a few months earlier, if he remembered correctly. Time always passed far too quickly for his liking. "What about you, Quaiesse?"

    His companion, unlike him, did not appear too troubled. "I have no idea. It must have been six months ago? Maybe seven? When we get home, I won''t miss the opportunities." Quaiesse shrugged the question off as easily as one shakes off a speck of dust. "The Cardinals are already far too busy, and I do not find it appropriate to disturb them on such frivolous matters." Obviously, a lower-level prelate would not have been fit for the task.

    "You are right," Aeneas found himself agreeing. But part of him had to admit that he wouldn''t mind finding someone to confide in. Not that all Cardinals were on the same level. Berenice was far too understanding. Dominic too inquisitorial. Zenedine too philosophical. Yvon and Maximilian too distant.

    But Raymond... Perhaps it was because as an old member of the Black Scriptures he had felt the same doubts that Aeneas sometimes heard whispered in the darkness of his thoughts, but had found in him more than once a suitable listener.

    By the Gods, perhaps he was just too soft. He could not continue to appear meek in that cloying way, or everyone would start calling him names like ''little lamb'' or the ''spineless warrior''. In him ran the blood of the Six, so it was necessary to prove to the world that the cardinal virtues had found a worthy successor. If not for others, at least for himself.

    "We have arrived." Quaiesse stopped in front of their prisoner''s door. It was evident that the man compared to an army would not have entered there even for all the gold in the world. With the roles reversed, Aeneas would probably have done the same. "I will be aiding General Bulgari''s lieutenants, should you need anything."

    "Thank you. Should you be the one to seek my help instead, please do not seek me out." They laughed together at the joke, said a quick goodbye, and then finally parted. Quaiesse''s figure was long gone before Aeneas decided to knock on the door. A single firm touch was enough.

    "Captain Aeneas. It is an honor to welcome you, as always." A demi-human with feline features greeted him with as much deference as possible. Before entering, she handed him a bowl of water, which the young captain used to refresh himself. It was amazing how just a few minutes'' walk was enough to make him drenched in sweat. Desert life, with that asphyxiating heat that clung to his body and would never let go, was not at all in his line. "My mistress awaits you. She has decided to wait for your arrival before starting with breakfast."

    Unusual. Not that it was entirely unwelcome though. "I thank you..." Aeneas tried to remember the handmaiden''s name. Showing friendliness to her would perhaps also soften her mistress. "... Silmi." He prayed that Alah Alaf would listen to his pleas.

    The demi-human''s black eyes widened, taken aback by what must have been a simple display of decency, but was evidently not so obvious. The whiskers on her feline muzzle swayed gently in contentment. The stoic expression she had was replaced by a more relaxed and friendly one. The lips joined in a subtle smile. The tail sticking out of the tunic could not hold back a satisfied rustle.

    Aeneas felt nothing.

    "Come," she led him to a table near the terrace of the room, from where it was possible to see the whole city.

    Shaimaaa looked outwards, in total silence. If they had surrounded her with the frame of a painting, it would have been the perfect image of an artistic work. ''The lady waiting for her beloved'' or ''the princess locked in the tower''. "Good morning, Captain Aeneas." She broke that tranquility when she saw him coming, with a smile so bright that could blind. "Please take a seat."

    On the princess''s lap was the same animal with feline features that Aeneas had seen earlier. That was who Quaiesse''s pets reminded him of. Shaimaaa stroked hers gently, getting a few purrs of recognition, while the animal was not even aware of his existence.

    "Good morning to you, princess," the young man returned the greeting as he took his position. In front of him, the table was set with exotic fruits and buttered bread. He grabbed a carafe and poured reddish juice into his and the woman''s glasses.

    "Very kind," Shaimaaa''s attention was divided between him and the window, "I hope you had a pleasant night."

    "I''m still not used to the heat." A dry reply.

    The woman grabbed a piece of fig, to eat it slowly, her small brown eyes now focused on him. "I guess it''s hard for you northerners to get used to it. Although I think wearing more suitable clothes might help." And she made no secret that she found the armor Aeneas wore in that moment rather bizarre.

    "What I wear is a sacred legacy, enchanted with the magic of a lost time. No matter the temperature, it makes my body impervious to any change in climate." He opted for a piece of bread, accompanied by apricot jam. "It is when I am forced to take it off to sleep that I feel this suffocating heat."

    "Why not sleep with it then?" An apparently sensible question.

    "It would be unbecoming," but it was such only to those ignorant of the Scriptures. "Only when I am on mission, in the performance of my sacred duties am I allowed to wear it. To do so at a different time would be an outrage." There was no anger in his words, nor any other negative emotion. It was a simple statement of fact.

    "And you are on a mission now?"

    "Certainly."

    "You are..." She was on the verge of saying something unflattering, he was sure. "Particular." A more diplomatic reply came instead.

    "Maybe I am, or maybe you are." Or maybe they both were. "This morning I find you more talkative than usual." Not that he had preferred the quiet of the past few days. "Is something perhaps troubling you?"

    "It would be strange if there wasn''t." A laugh with a bitter aftertaste. A warm wind moved her long dark hair, enclosed in thick braids. "May I make a request, from the bottom of my heart?"

    Aeneas'' experience with the fairer sex was limited to his sisters and companions. The former, seen from too far away. The latter, observed from too close. Shaimaaa fell into the first group, but perhaps she was trying to get into the second?

    "Sure." He mentally prepared himself to reject it.

    "Let me take a tour of the city." All too predictable. Indeed, it was unusual that that request had come so late. It was expected days ago. "I want to see how my citizens are getting used to the occupation. And hear their demands in case of trouble. Locked up here, like a bird in a gilded cage, I feel magnificently useless."

    Impossible. "Impossible." Thought and word, strangely enough, agreed. Aeneas was ready for the scene that was sure to come.

    "Why?" That barely whispered question made him feel like the worst of scavengers.

    "General Bulgari has given me orders to protect you. And it would not be so easy for me to do so in a place unknown to me, where the crowd could hide you from my sight at any moment."

    "Who should harm me?"

    "That is for you to tell me." Was he finally going to get some answers?

    "The only ones who can cause me harm are you."

    Each individual handled anger in their own way, it was something Aeneas had learned to notice. Knowing when the opponent was beginning to lose patience was part of the Black Scripture training.

    But Shaimaa was indecipherable. She continued to watch him impassively, without externalizing that whirlwind of emotions he was sure was now dominating her. Strange. Was it all an act or was he the one who wasn''t as good as he thought?

    "If we had wanted to kill you or otherwise procure you harm, we would have done so already." A sad truth they were both aware of. "Even if I wanted to comply with your request, I would not have the authority to do so." That morning, Aeneas was particularly hungry, so he allowed himself a second piece of bread. "Of course, things might be different if you were more... helpful."

    Shaimaaa did not touch food. She must have been indisposed.

    "I am willing to tell you anything you wish to know."

    "Not only that." Neither of them was a merchant. Haggling was not their speciality. So why bother? "You will also have to push your people to be more cooperative. Now, and when the time comes."

    The princess bit her lip nervously. "If I comply," she hesitated, at last. "Do you promise that my subjects will not be endangered?"

    "The Theocracy has as its main mission the salvation and prosperity of the Diarchy. What we do is only for the flourishing of mankind." Of the remaining races, it was not for him to decide. Although he had an idea about that.

    "Selmi''s husband is in prison," at those words the handmaiden, who had remained aloof until that instant, gasped. Concerns stained her face. "And like him, countless other non-humans. How can I trust your words?"

    Aeneas could not understand that apprehension. Sometimes he had the impression that there was a wall preventing them from communicating, no matter how hard he tried.

    "Our prisoners are treated with the utmost consideration." The one accorded to non-humans, anyway. "So? If you accept my terms, I will arrange to speak with the General to fulfill your wish."

    "Do I have a choice?" She asked, continuing to caress her pet. The little cat was indifferent to the struggles of its owner, resting blissfully on her lap.

    "We all do. But it is not easy to live with." Who was he referring to? "Especially when there may be consequences from them for those we care about."

    Shaimaaa sighed, the same slender bequest of breath the captain had heard countless times when honoring the Gods by fulfilling his sacred mission.

    "I accept."

    Now it was up to him to smile, but unlike hers, his grin did not appear insincere.

    "Be ready in an hour. It will just be the two of us." Better to avoid any accomplices acting as bait for her to escape. "And be sure to make yourself unrecognizable."

    Aeneas didn''t even wait for a reply that he was already outside the room.

    Convincing General Bulgari would have been all too easy.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Captain Aeneas, you look different." Aeneas could have said the same about her. Much of the princess'' face was covered by a veil that left only her forehead and eyes uncovered, the hazel color of these altered to a clear teal. A color that suited her, he found himself admitting reluctantly. "Maybe it''s because I haven''t been paying attention to you these days. In fact, I gave you very little attention," did she really need to specify? "With that long face you look like a malnourished horse."

    "I don''t think I heard you right." Different traditions had different speech patterns. It was easy to be fooled by a misconception.

    "Really? I thought I spoke out loud."

    The deference from before was gone. Having gotten what she wanted, or perhaps because she realized she had nothing left to lose, Shaimaaa had shown her true face. Or perhaps her mask. With many people, it was hard to tell them apart.

    "Have you decided to make this walk of ours as unpleasant as possible?"

    They started to walk away from the palace, to take their discussion to the streets. Shaimaaa moved her eyes from corner to corner, inspecting men and women, buildings and squares without delay. Hers was the diligence of a mother checking that the fancy suit her son wore for the marriage meeting did not have a single piece of cloth out of place, combined with the toughness of a sergeant making sure that the uniform did not have even the slightest sign of wear. Aeneas had tasted both of those things, and couldn''t decide which was worse.

    "A lady must enjoy herself, especially after whole days spent bored." She shrugged, freed of a burden that had long since enslaved her. Tirelessly. Indomitable. Proud. Why did he think that about her? "Of course, if it bothers you, we can return to my quarters. However, I do not need to specify that our agreement from before would be invalid in that case."

    Even though he could not see her mouth, Aeneas had not the slightest doubt that a smile of mockery and victory was on her lips.

    "I suppose I can''t complain." He thought victory was his just before, but had to reconsider. Only twice in his life had the Black Scripture Captain not achieved absolutely perfect victories. And both times it had been because of women. Could it be that the Gods were trying to tell him something? "To answer your curiosity from earlier," in situations like this, the only sensible thing to do was to accept defeat and move on, convincing yourself that you would not make the same mistake again. ''''Every member of my unit has certain magic items at their disposal that can significantly alter their features. The earrings I''m wearing right now," he pointed to two small golden beads dangling from his earlobes, "cast a small illusion spell, which makes it harder for passers-by to remember my face."

    "Ohhh," an exclamation of surprise. The magical tools the Theocracy was equipped with were among the best in the world! No wonder he had made an impression. "Yes, yes, it all makes sense." Muttered Shaimaaa, with the same satisfaction as a scholar who has managed to solve a problem that had been plaguing him for a long time. "Perhaps I had misjudged you people from the Theocracy. To prevent your faces from being etched in others'' memories, how generous of you!"

    "A trivial insult." Worthy of a child.

    She took it as a compliment, her nose rising slightly under the veil. "When they take away your swords, you have no choice but to fight with your claws. When they chop off your hands, you''re left with nothing but kicks. When they cut off your legs, you are left with nothing but words."

    "My people have done none of these things to you." Except the first one, perhaps. Totally justified, though. Treating enemies well is wise, treating them too well is idiotic. "I have seen far too many times how prisoners of war have been treated. Believe me when I tell you that the treatment meted out to your people is far better than they could have received anywhere else."

    The benevolence of his nation also lay in this. Recognising that there was nothing dishonorable in defeat and that it was still possible to start again. In friendship, this time. The citizens of Tel-Hoorusan had been given this wonderful opportunity. Would they be able to seize it?

    Shaimaaa stopped a few steps away from the entrance to a small square. "Are you so sure?" At one time that spot had certainly been a vibrant marketplace of life and hope. "Look at all this! What do you see?" Now, however, the remnants of battle, ruthless in their indifference, left little room for dreams, except those of incurable romantics who could still see something in that rubble. And Aeneas liked to think he was one of them.

    "Future," he replied bluntly. "Certainly much pain and suffering has touched this place. But in this lies the potential of humanity. It is sad, but to build one must first destroy."

    "It''s funny," but in Shaimaaa''s tone there was not the slightest trace of amusement. "How can two human beings see the same thing and have two completely different perspectives?" She walked towards the center of the square. A few guards from the security corps noticed her, but did not give her more than a second glance. "This was once a place where different cultures and races came to meet and exchange ideas and dreams. Where differences lost their meaning. You speak to me of reconstruction," a few fallen stones on one of the still recognisable stalls were moved with a firm hand motion, the sand and dust sliding into her sleeves. "But here I see only a past that will never return."

    "Yes," they strangely agreed. But probably not for the same reason. "For what will replace it will be far better, but only if your people want it. If you want it." He offered her help, expecting a refusal. But it did not come. "I understand your point of view. You are afraid that what you cherish may disappear. Believe me, it is a feeling I live with every day. We humans are fragile, so fragile that a gust of wind is enough to take us away. For this reason, we must work together. For us, and for those to come."

    It was amazing how much expressiveness Shaimaaa''s face communicated with just that tiny part of her face uncovered. "I am no fool," her eyelids opened and closed, as if lulled by the sultriness. "I am aware of what you can offer me. I know that if I were to accept your hand, prosperity would come knocking at my door. But how can I do that, knowing that only a few of my subjects will know happiness?"

    The same guards from before conversed amiably with some locals, all human. The princess watched with relief but it was clear from the slant of her gaze that part of her was directed not at them, but at the other races, or at least the members who did not march in the dungeons, who were careful not to be seen in public, as their presence hidden in the oxen of the surrounding houses was clearly visible.

    "You cannot win without us. The Golden King is marching, and will soon reach Musaaid Al-Lodi. When the time comes, you must convince the Diarchy to follow our orders." He did not wish to be cruel to her, but hiding the truth would have been even more ruthless. At least this way, it gave her time to prepare for what was to happen. "You can save some, or let all perish."

    "A heartless choice." They resumed their path, wandering into the darkest alleys of the city, where the sunlight seemed too afraid to enter. "The price of my position, I guess." Whenever they encountered someone in need of help, Shaimaaa stopped to listen, regardless of the feasibility of possible help. All the requests and lamentations were recorded on a scroll she had brought with her. "No one prepared me for this. When my parents and brothers died, I found myself alone."

    "It is impossible to prepare oneself for all the hardships that are to come," something Aeneas knew all too well. "I am sorry for your family." Perhaps he had come across as too awkward, but his condolences were sincere. "Was it a long time ago?"

    "More than ten years have passed. I was just a child at the time." There was... acceptance. If she had felt sorrow for the loss, that had long since been processed.

    "How did it happen?"

    "A dragon." A single word that held countless meanings. "The Diarchy was once much greater. But then... we managed to repel our assailant, but the losses were high."

    "I''m sorry." Aeneas didn''t know what else to say.

    "There is no need. No one could have changed things anyway." Aeneas had slain seven adult dragons since he had assumed his position, but he preferred to remain silent. "I... understand what the Theocracy professes. I really understand it." They were back in the main street. Sweat now covered most of Aeneas'' skin. "For that very reason, I cannot accept it. Silmi and the others took care of me when I needed it. How could I not repay them? We humans are not the only fragile beings in this world."

    "Perhaps not. But would you really be willing to risk it? The future of the humans that live here? That live in the Theocracy and other parts of the world?"

    Shaimaaa thought for a while before answering. "Yes." And she added no more.

    The sun''s rays became more intense. The time had come to return. Aeneas escorted Shaimaa back to her rooms. He would have expected protests, but instead the princess was strangely cooperative.

    "I will fulfill my debt," she said, just before they took their leave. By the time they had returned to the palace once again the camouflage was useless, and both had returned to their natural appearance. Hazel was a more suited color for her eyes, after all. "I will give you all the information you require. Send whoever you want when you see it fit."

    "Will do," Aeneas paused on the doorframe, uncertain. "I will make sure your handmaid''s husband is in good condition."

    Shaimaaa thanked him with a tired smile. "I expect you tomorrow, Captain." The door closed behind her, almost soundlessly. "Don''t let me wait." Was the last feeble sound he heard.

    Aeneas turned, his gaze still lost on her, and returned to his quarters. With his surprise Quaiesse was there, waiting for him.

    "I heard from the General that you went for a little walk today." The morning''s felines no longer accompanied him, but on the other hand a little bird that resembled a strange cross between eagle and hawk was perched on his right shoulder. "Was it fun?" The bird pecked some food from his hand, while Quaiesse watched him boredly.

    "It could have been worse," Aeneas replied without giving it much thought. "Who''s your new friend?"

    "I haven''t given him a name yet," for a moment, the animal''s large eyes focused on Aeneas in a puzzled look, except to quickly return to focusing on the food as he wasn''t even there. Maybe animals just didn''t like him. "He is a desert eagle. There''s not much information on this little guy''s species, so I''m trying to conduct some experiments to see if he might be useful to us in the future."

    "Did you also conduct experiments on the cats this morning?"

    "Oh those? No, they are just simple pets. Totally useless, unless one is feeling lonely. In that case, they easily attach themselves to their owners, and are a mood booster. But their abilities stop there." He arched his eyebrows. "Are you lonely, Captain?"

    "I''m fine. No need to worry."

    Quaiesse reacted with that usual smug expression of his, somewhere between a earnest smile and mockery.

    "Well, I didn''t come here for mere pleasantries." Aeneas had not doubted that for even a fraction of a second. "It''s time. Our friends in Musaaid have told us the date of the fated fight." He paused, like the announcer of a show who wants to gauge the reaction of the audience. "One week exactly. Are you ready?"

    "I am." Was he? Facing that Sword Saint should have been interesting. Maybe he could learn some new tricks, and if his opponent was a human, convince him to join the Theocracy.

    He was sure that battle would dispel all his uncertainties.

    "I''ll be off then," Quaiesse took a few steps, before stopping so close for Aeneas to feel his breath. Even far from home, in a hostile place and away from the usual comforts, it was absolutely spotless and fresh as a newly bloomed rose. "Ah, Captain. I need not remind you, but once this war with the Golden King is over, you are aware of what is required of you, are you not?"

    "Yes." How could he forget? "If Princess Shaimaaa El-Aziz has second thoughts about the policies to be adopted for the project of cooperation," she would not, "to ensure the supremacy of the human race in this region," it was by now already assured, "and for the eternal prosperity of the Theocracy of Slaine," for centuries and centuries, "I will kill her." Amen.

    His companion patted his arm, the timbre of his voice unusually friendly and sympathetic. "We cannot afford another disaster like Re-Estize. Orders are orders." They always were. "My heart aches. But when you bring filth into the house, you have to expect someone to clean it up sooner or later. And to be grateful for that is common decency."

    There was no need to say more. Aeneas could finally return to his room, to begin the preparations.

    The day ended with a prayer, as always.

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    Beta readers: hackslashbash, whostolemytea?

 Chapter 40: The killer sits next to you

    Chapter 40

    The killer sits next to you

    Cities State Alliance

    There was a bloody smell of shit in the air. Droppings and carcasses of slaughtered animals mingled with the deep, muddy soil of those poorly felled paths.

    Kostocles brought a hand to his nose, to avoid smelling that stench, which could have masked even the pungent odor of the Kalos Valar Far celebration. And when the comparison was with a fertility festival, it was not hard to understand how unflattering it was.

    Trying to find a way not to give that smell a second thought, he felt a sharp pain penetrate his right front hoof. The one he had injured in battle just not too long ago.

    "Fuck," Kostocles muttered through clenched teeth. A prayer that none of his team had heard him was invoked. How many times had he been told to wear metal hoof reinforcements? Far better to endure a modicum of pain than to cage what little free space of his body remained. As if walking in that fucking Union wasn''t punishment enough. With those stupid narrow towns, and the even more stifling streets. The barbarians might well find it pleasant to walk glued to each other, their breath caressing their necks and their genitals grazing their asses, but he found it absolutely inconceivable.

    And even outside the city, the story remained the same. Mountains and hills, tracks cut down and roads only rarely spacious enough for someone his size. And the forests. Those damn forests. It seemed every town had one nearby, teeming with monsters, stench and who knows what else.

    "Is something bothering you Kostocles? You''ve had a frown on your face for a while now." Creterus had moved closer, and the space was already over. Two glorious soldiers of the Salavin tribe reduced to acting as night watchmen in a country forgotten by the Great Heaven, where noble riding was prevented by totally inadequate geographical conditions.

    "I''m just tired, that''s all." Lied Kostocles. He wanted to shout at him that just staying in that place for a few more minutes angered him as few things had rarely done his life. He yearned to return to the Great Plains, to teach his children the noble art of archery and respect for nature, to wear the colorful, silky garments woven by his wife, not those gray, dull suits of armor that now seemed to have affected his mood with their lack of creativity. "I miss my land. I miss my family. I miss the life I used to live and love."

    "Our watch is almost over. You''ll see that when you have dinner in front of you, you''ll feel better." Creterus had that optimism typical of youth, which Kostocles had long since forgotten. The slop that awaited them could hardly have lifted his spirits, but he preferred not to disappoint one of his few remaining friends with an unpleasant grunt. "Besides," Creterus continued, with that smile as golden as hay, "we''re coming back home. The war is finally over. The day after tomorrow we will rejoin the main army and then we can finally put this bad experience behind us."

    There was truth in what he said. Even for someone who was not used to seeing the half-full jug like Kostocles, it was impossible to deny that their ordeals were coming to an end.

    "I only wish Satrap Tiribazus would have exempted us from our duties for once." Nevertheless, finding something to complain about came as natural to him as breathing. "No one would dare approach the camp, even the most ferocious beasts keep away from large groups like ours."

    The messy remains of some now unrecognizable creature were already on the verge of being absorbed into the earth. Clouds of flies and other insects swarmed around the now stripped bones to gather what little flesh still remained. Kostocles didn''t even need to stoop to take a closer look to know that they had been lying there for days in the weather.

    "Be careful, Kostocles." A slimy, muffled voice drew his attention from behind. "All this self-confidence and the Dark Knight could just as easily blow your head off." Aesion gave him sneering glances. So young, and so painfully unbearable. Only a few winters older than his eldest son, and far more talented than the old centaur. That would have been more than enough reason to hate him. But the fact that he was also an asshole with a capital A made any guilt Kostocles might have felt disappear.

    "I''m not afraid of some biped with a baby sword." In fact, the very idea of meeting the Dark Knight scared the shit out of him. But he could hardly let Aesion have even the slightest suspicion. "I remind you that the last time he was spotted, General Arsames managed to fend him off. The same General Arsames who is now at our camp. Together with his honor guard this time."

    The problem was that it would take at least a couple of minutes from their position to get to that camp. And for someone who had managed to fight one of the Immortals, getting rid of their little group would have been all too easy.

    "Don''t worry. If it scares you, I''ll take care of getting us all to safety," a smug expression was painted on Aesion''s face, the spear pointed at him. There was a reason Kostocles preferred the bow, it left more free space between him and his opponents.

    "I''m lucky, then." ''To have you acting as bait for me,'' the older centaur avoided adding. Kostocles would have gladly let the young men jump into the fray, while he kept his distance. And fled, preferably.

    "Let''s not waste any more time," their team leader, Idomas, had observed that little exchange, not giving it much thought. But now something was disturbing him. The one good eye he had kept squinting and opening, in a lascivious motion. "Didn''t you notice anything?" He lowered the tone of his voice, as if he realized he was being watched.

    Kostocles and the other two quieted down. The evening wind caressed the foliage, the rustling of the leaves sang a subdued melody. The rustling of the trees was a great silence, with a few rare snaps. High in the sky, the stars were parsimonious in bestowing their light, the moon the only one generous enough to grant a modicum of grace by lighting their path.

    Creterus opened his mouth, evidently about to say something, but nothing came from him. Instead, he turned in the direction of Idomas, who had lowered himself to check the ground for some trace.

    The elderly foreman had a worried expression on his face, his long gray beard swaying to the rhythm of the small noises that broke the calm of nature. "Someone has been here," he passed a couple of stones he had picked up between his fingers, inspecting them with the care with which a skilled craftsman observed the final fruit of his labors. "Three... Maybe four? But I don''t see anyone." He stood up, pointing his gaze towards the darkest part of the forest, his eye shining with a white light. "Animals, sure. But what else?"

    "Something bothering you, boss?" Kostocles was beginning to find that stillness unnerving. A drop of sweat traced a path from his forehead to die on his chin. He glanced quickly at his two companions, who seemed to share the same feelings as him. "If there is anything we can do, tell us. Do you want us to go back to the camp to give notice of any intruders?"

    "I don''t want to alarm the others unnecessarily, yet I don''t think we are alone in this place." The quiver on Kostocles'' back grew heavier. Just when he would have thought he could put it to rest for a long time, here came the opportunity to use it again without even giving him time to prepare. "However, returning to the camp would be the wisest choice." Fortunately, it did not take long to convince Idomas to leave that place.

    By now Kostocles had the strange feeling of being watched. He was the ranger, but he sensed eyes that kept watching his every move, his every slightest emotion.

    "Well, if you really want to, we may as well retire. Although I would have no problem showing possible intruders what the price would be for daring to disturb the proud army of the King of Kings," Aesion huffed, trying to look bigger than he was. On another occasion Kostocles would have laughed at such a phony attitude, but part of him, perhaps not quite gone, understood how important it could be to first convince oneself of being brave, before all others.

    "Don''t worry," Creterus consoled him with a friendly and serene laugh. "You''ll get another chance to show your skills. I am sure General Arsames will soon choose you as the new cadet of his honor guard. It would be impossible not to notice your talent." These words uttered by others would have sounded like mocking, spoken by Creterus were deeply sincere. It was impossible to hate the man.

    "Come on then..." Idomas could not complete the sentence. A muffled sound, similar to a low moan but so painfully pleading, made its way into their ears. Kostocles implored all the gods, kings and saints he knew to persuade the foreman to desist from checking what it was all about.

    "What was that?"

    "Nothing to be afraid of."

    "Let''s go and see, but quietly." Said Idomas, the short sword already gripped. Even if Kostocles had been a religious devotee before, he would have changed his mind now anyway. "Creterus, you go back. Kostocles, Aesion, our goal is not to be discovered. If there is anything down there, we will avoid engaging in battle. Are we clear?"

    A soldier could do nothing but follow orders. Kostocles found himself wondering why he had ended up in that place populated by barbarians, far from his family. And for what? Just because his tribe lived on the border did not mean they were experts in mapping Union territory.

    But these were the orders of the King of Kings. And the orders of the King of Kings were absolute.

    They approached, careful not to make any noise, using all the skills at their disposal to conceal their presence.

    Kostocles forced himself to stifle all fears. The shadows that danced in the darkness were only a game of the mind, the green changing hue from one moment to the next, expanding in that total absence of light. What lurked at the sides of his vision were illusions, fauns and sprites playing with his senses, drawing amusement from his delusions.

    "Damn, what is this?" What unfolded before them was a pitiful spectacle. A deer was emitting stifled cries, its lower body reduced to a shapeless pulp, its antlers joined to a face crushed and half destroyed. Part of the brain was exposed to the cold. The very fact that the animal was still alive was a miracle, or a cruel mockery.

    Kostocles had killed many animals in the course of his life. He had made them the prey of his hunting trips, but had always respected their role in the food chain. What he took with effort and commitment was not something merely to be destroyed, but to be celebrated and thanked for the gifts it offered. Killing was done because there was a reason, because rules were established. A life was taken because it allowed another to continue its course. But this? There was nothing to justify what he was seeing except a macabre sense of humor.

    Idomas drew a knife and approached the carcass. "Good, good," whispering gentle words, he carved a clean cut into the deer''s neck, putting it out of its misery. He whispered a prayer and tried, not with great results, to restore some semblance of decency to the corpse. "We must go back at once. Whatever did this slaughter, it is still near. Kostocles...," he paused. "Where is Aesion?"

    Kostocles turned sharply, only darkness stretching for meters. An icy wind blew across his back, tickling an unspeakable tremor that stopped at the back of his neck. "I thought he was following us. I don''t... I don''t understand." Aesion was right behind him, until seconds before. He was certain of it, yes. Or was it just something he''d told himself to persuade himself not to look back?

    "Fuck." He had never seen his foreman lose his temper. But the rarity of the occasion was certainly not something to celebrate. "Do you think he''s still alive?"

    "No." Maybe he was, and right now he was desperately begging for their help, struggling to free himself from a mysterious force that had imprisoned him. With tears in his eyes he was begging whoever the assailant was to let him live. Such a vivid image. "We cannot run the risk of ending up like him." Kostocles knew that if the roles were reversed, Aesion would have done the same. It didn''t make it any easier.

    "Let''s go." Idomas snapped. Being a leader also meant being able to make the most difficult decisions. Kostocles did not judge him for that coldness. He didn''t judge him for not stopping to check better. The satrap''s orders dictated that, in case of danger, the priority was to return to base camp as soon as possible.

    And the satrap''s orders were absolute.

    "Wait, what''s that?" A gurgle. Kostocles heard it booming in his head, with the same intensity as an infernal charge. Noises of broken branches and uprooted plants rose with a roaring screech to the starry sky, heralding the arrival of something terrible. Something that would make fear itself a second skin to be flaunted and displayed. Darkness was a cloak that covered part of his body, leaving only a row of immaculate teeth and two empty eyeballs from which glowing magma leaked.

    "Go!" Shouted Idomas. Placing himself between him and the creature, the silver of his spearhead the only discernible light in that murky madness. A roar, composed of the wails of countless victims and as many sins demanding justice, rang out like the cursed gong of an hellish service marking the beginning of the celebration.

    Kostocles grasped his bow and threw it to the ground. He did the same with the quiver. He stripped off his armor until his body was naked. And then he began to run.

    He did not care to be called a coward. He did not care if his comrades would be butchered. He did not care if they would conquer the base camp. If they assassinated the satrap. The only important thing was to survive. To reunite with his wife, to see his children again, to hearten his old parents.

    He kept on running, letting every voice accusing him of his weaknesses go unheeded, not thinking about Aesion''s impaled body staring back at him from those empty eye sockets, past the detached remains of Creterus scattered on the ground, refusing to imagine what Idomas was going through.

    Only surviving. That was all that mattered. He did not do it out of mere selfishness. He did it to give others a chance. To warn them. Yes. He was not a coward. The greatest altruism required the greatest sacrifice.

    ''I''m almost there.''

    The campfires were growing sharper. The crackle of sparks cleaved the darkness. Heedless of the stones and splinters hitting his hooves, heedless of the pain and exhaustion, Kostocles ran as he had never done before.

    But the more he ran, the further away his goal became. The centaur took one step, and he moved two steps further away. He took two, and it receded by four. Something cold had grabbed one of his back legs and was pushing it further and further towards him. An icy crunch of bones emitted a squeak that pierced the eardrums.

    ''No...''

    He no longer even had the strength to despair. He watched his body being dragged deeper and deeper, as if he had been a third-party spectator uninvolved in the affair. From afar. So far away.

    Kostocles closed his eyes. Nothingness was all he could see. And the nothingness was absolute.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    A pinch of salt, a handful of pepper, carrots, celery and... onions? Where were the onions?

    "Oi, boy. Where are the onions?" Bairam was sure he had placed them back on the table with the other ingredients, but now he could no longer find them. How was he going to prepare soup for the soldiers without onions? They were the ones that imparted most of the flavor.

    "We had to use them to make omelets, don''t you remember?" The assistant was right. You realize you''ve become old when even the most basic things escape you.

    "Don''t we have any more? Satrap Tiribazus is crazy about them. It would be a shame to disappoint him and the other soldiers." For a cook, there was nothing more gratifying than knowing that even a great lord appreciated his art. He liked Tiribazus, unlike other lords Bairam had worked for in the past he understood the needs that came with their condition and was happy to adapt to the resources they had.

    "We can ask one of the priests to make some. They are in the satrap''s tent. It shouldn''t take long."

    Bairam scratched his head, his fingers scratching at the headset he wore. Of his long and shining gray hair there was much to be proud of, but that was no reason enough to let it end up as food for the soldiers.

    "If we have no alternative¡­ Don''t let them use too low a level of magic, or the end result will be poor." Or rather, they might as well have thrown it in the trash. Once, when he was still young and inexperienced, he had foolishly believed that by adding spices and cooking them properly, even the products of lower tier magic would be edible. The end result was even worse than leaving them in their natural state. "Remember, we are professionals! The fact that we are miles away from our kitchens does not mean that we should not do our best! The very future of the Great Plains depends on our work!"

    This was not an exaggeration, or at least he did not think it was. Bairam was aware that no history book would mention his name or that of his team members, nor would legends be told about the time he had fed entire platoons with only a ladle and a few vegetables. And with what results! Many soldiers would have preferred to continue the war, rather than return home to eat the sloppy meals their wives prepared.

    "It will be done, Chief Bairam!" The young colt gave a military salute, the corps of cooks of His Highness the King of Kings was one of the most prestigious divisions in the entire army, and walked out of the tent with a disruptive charge that would not have been disfigured by that displayed by the proud cavalry corps during the conquest of the Western Plains.

    "I trust you, boy!" Although the ears could not hear him, Bairam was sure the heart could. And that was the important thing.

    The problem was that not many understood how important his work was, underestimating how a full and happy stomach could also bring wonders to the battlefield. But satrap Tiribazus knew this, and had praised Bairam countless times, even awarding him a small silver medal that he now proudly displayed on his uniform. That was why he liked the satrap. For this, and for the generous pay he bestowed. The problem was that not many understood how important it was to reward the artist for the right work!

    "Shila, could you help me while we wait?" He turned to another of the assistants, intent on slicing a cabbage so green to be dazzling. Only the freshest food for the troops! "In addition to the soup and omelets, I was thinking of making some bread with our black flour, but the fire needs to be revived, if you know what I mean." Sometimes Bairam wondered if he wasn''t being too demanding and making them work too hard, but the look of gratitude with which they answered him was enough to drive away those absurd thoughts

    The young girl, awake like all of them since dawn, did not utter a single moan as she made her way to the small bakery they had set up.

    She pulled out a small container containing gaseous liquid, inside of which tier zero magic had been applied to create small fiery sparks, which in reaction with the gas contained within created a small flame. The principle used was the same as that used to light the lamps in many homes on the Great Plains, developed by the imperial research corps. The King of Kings'' engineers, however, had not yet managed to complete the design to give it a satisfactory use.

    "There you go." Shila folded the instrument into one of the pockets of the chef''s jacket she wore, satisfied. "These firelighters are very useful, even if they drain right away. Is the intensity enough now, head chef?"

    Bairam cast a glance, feeling the heat teasing his face. "I''d say it''s perfect." Perhaps he would have preferred the temperature a few half degrees higher, but that would not have been fair to demand. Besides, they were already at each other''s throats. "Gentlemen, we must hurry. In an hour at most we should be ready to go on stage." The remaining assistants nodded, suggesting that there was no need for further orders. Everyone resumed their tasks, with even more diligence if possible.

    After a good dozen minutes, everything seemed to be ready to be brought to the table. Only one thing was missing.

    "Where is the boy I sent to request the onions?" It was true that the tents used as kitchens were located in the easternmost part of the camp, but that delay was unnatural. Even if one proceeded at a snail''s pace, stopping to contemplate the stars and satisfy the verve of an aspiring poet, taking the utmost care not to lose sight of even the smallest stone on the road, the journey could not have taken more than five or six minutes. "I can''t let the soup stay on the fire for more than another couple of minutes." Bairam appreciated food piping hot, but to everything there was a limit.

    "Perhaps the priests were busy with other tasks and could not accommodate the request," Shila speculated. The other assistants seemed to share her opinion. "In that case, he might have headed for the supply stores, to check if any were left over."

    "Could be. But even then it would be taking far too long." Bairam appreciated the initiative, yet he was quite sure that all the supplies had been carefully sorted and distributed according to daily needs. "Perhaps it would be better to go and check. Shila, come with me. The rest of you, finish with the preparations." After giving final instructions, the head chef and his assistant exited the tent. A whistling wind was the only thing that did not let the absolute silence welcome them.

    They did not even have time to take two steps, that something strange became evident.

    "Where are the guards? I was pretty sure there were a couple of them. Yet, it seems to me that there is no one around." For Bairam, that lack of security was unnerving. Not so much because he was attached to his life nor did he fear that someone might attack them in that remote place, but the mere idea of some wild beast raiding the kitchens and throwing away hours of hard-earned work was all too hard to bear.

    "They must have gone loitering somewhere. Master Bairam, don''t take it so hard. We haven''t had a moment''s respite since we arrived in the Union. It''s not that big a deal."

    "I suppose you''re right." Normally, the head-chef would have reported to the satrap or General Arsames about the matter, but his assistant''s words were enough to dissuade him. "Let''s say I''ll turn a blind eye just this once. But as soon as we see them for the distribution of the ration we will try to resolve this negligence. If anything should happen, we too may incur the fury of the satrap for not pointing out the situation."

    Bairam led the way, although they did not have to travel very far. The supply depot was a large tent where the wagons with the supplies had been stored as neatly as possible, positioned not too far from where they currently stood.

    "Okay, this is unacceptable." Again no sign of a guard. "I can accept a lack of concern for us cooks. But how could our soldiers have left our supplies to the elements of nature? If some natural phenomenon should occur that requires the wagons to be moved? Or if some magical beast, attracted by the smell were to come and make a run for it?" By now the irritation had gone through the roof. Not to warn Satrap Tiribazus would have been impossible. "I''m not in the habit of snitching, but there''s no excuse this time."

    "It is strange. I could have sworn that after lunch, when I came to return the leftovers to their place, there were a large number of soldiers in the vicinity." Shila scratched her chin, thoughtful. "That not a single one of them was left... Perhaps something happened that required their presence?"

    "What could possibly have happened?" Mumbled Bairam skeptically. "Ever since we arrived in the Union, we haven''t had even the slightest setback. No, this is sheer superficiality, I tell you, my dear girl." He was not a soldier, but after years in the army, even a layman like him realized that most of the most egregious mistakes could have been avoided by using only a modicum of common sense. But finding unpredictable reasons in defeat was far easier to accept.

    "Perhaps you are right, Master Bairam." The young woman still did not seem entirely convinced. Doubtful, she kept looking around for something undefined. "There aren''t even any lights on inside the warehouse."

    "My girl, you''re starting to get paranoid. Let''s go inside before you start doubting my existence as well. I must remind you that we have no time to waste." And to reiterate the point, he crossed the threshold of the warehouse.

    It didn''t take him long to find the wagons. But of the assistant, no trace.

    "That he has already returned to the main tent?" Bairam had the feeling they had only wasted time. Also, as he feared, not even the shadow of an onion. The wagons, at least, seemed to be in perfect condition.

    "Head cook," Shila called to him, a note of concern in her voice. "Didn''t you also touch something strange?"

    Indeed, Bairam''s hooves had come into contact with a viscous liquid ever since they had entered. But the poor lighting and little room to lower themselves had made it impossible to check more carefully.

    ''Could it be that...''

    A terrible doubt assailed him.

    "Shila," he called with as much breath as he could muster. "Check that the bottles of oil given to us by the city of Veneria are still in good condition! If they had fallen on the ground it would be a disaster!" They were by far the most valuable gift they had received during their visits to the Union. If that very special condiment had been wasted in such a stupid way, Bairam would never have forgiven himself.

    "They are all in place, Master Bairam." Fortunately, the worst had been avoided.

    Breathing a sigh of relief, the cook and his assistant were able to return to the kitchens.

    "But what was that strange liquid?" Shila asked, her face still worried.

    "Must have been the needs of some little animal sneaking in there," Bairam replied disgustedly. "Let''s remember to clean our hooves before we go in. Introducing germs in our sacred workplace would be a grave sin."

    "Will the other assistant really have returned to the main tent?"

    "If not, I hope for his sake he has a good reason for being gone." Only a big headache had he gotten from that business. Right at the end of the day. "Maybe he''ll have gone to hang out with the guards. This is all my fault, I was too lascivious with you assistants. I will have to review your training. But I''ll provide as soon as you can say¡­"

    "Master Bairam," Shila had ducked right near the entrance, her fingers touching a reddish liquid that wet the ground. Had someone dropped one of his prized bottles of red wine? At the mere thought Bairam felt faint. "This is blood."

    "Blood?" He asked.

    "No doubt about it."

    And, in a single instant, everything began to make sense. The various pieces of the mosaic joined together to form a complete figure.

    "Run!"

    "I wouldn''t do that if I were you." A voice from inside the tent stopped them. It made the blood run cold in their veins, and brought down any will to resist that they had.

    Bairam saw Shila on the verge of collapse. What had previously been a young woman full of vitality was now about to break like the most withered of streams. Before he could even try to support her, he felt something sharp and pointed tickle his back. A mechanical sound, similar to the noise of wagon wheels produced when they got caught in some crack in the ground, made its way through the silence.

    The two centaurs, too frightened to even think of turning around, accepted that unorthodox invitation to enter. When they saw the now lifeless bodies of the other attendants, lying with a coldness unsuitable for living beings at the sides of the room, they dared not even show a trace of an otherwise justifiable reaction.

    "Are there any other cooks besides you?" Welcoming them was what looked in every way like a Union soldier. Ordinary in appearance, wearing a simple blue robe covered by a bronze breastplate, he looked at them and the various dishes waiting to be served from the eyes of a silver helmet, from which two unusual differently coloured eyes shone. The most unusual thing was certainly that huge scythe he wielded which, as far as Bairam could remember, did not resemble any standard weapon used by the soldiers of the City-States Alliance.

    "Yes, there is no one else." Shila replied. The chieftain would have preferred not to show such surrender, but that metallic, screeching sound kept reminding them that they were rats in a trap. Over the long course of his career, Bairam had observed many times the desperate struggling of the fish just pulled out of the water, regarding that last flicker of life before the imminent end as deeply fascinating. Being part of an ecosystem meant accepting that indifferent cruelty, but now that he happened to find himself in the shoes of the prey about to be devoured, the head chef could not help but feel resentment and anger at such ruthless injustice.

    "I will believe you." The mysterious assailant raised part of his helmet, showing thin, fleshy lips. Combined with that delicate voice, it made it very likely that it was a woman, and not a very mature one either. "Not that it makes much difference in the end." The young girl picked up a ladle resting on one of the nearby tables and, with a quick movement, filled it with soup and then brought it to the mouth as fast.

    Beiram was aware that this was madness, but part of him was anxiously awaiting a judgment on his work. It was a spontaneous reaction, trained after years in the profession, which at that point was impossible to control.

    "It is good," she said, savoring the meal slowly. The cook''s heart skipped a beat in pride. Shaima, however, did not seem to share his opinion, her gaze turned to the ground as if attracted by a mysterious magnetic force that prevented it from rising. "I hope you didn''t mind me serving myself. I had to eat in a hurry and my stomach was languishing by now. But it would have been unwise to let you near it."

    "Be my guest. There''s not much room left for etiquette at this point." Taking away the surreality of the situation, it could even have been a pleasant conversation.

    The Union soldier delighted in another bite. Continuing at that pace, although Bairam used to prepare plenty, there would be nothing left for the others. "However, to be honest, I think something is missing. I don''t want to give you silly inexperienced advice, but maybe a spice to make the flavor stronger?"

    "Onions." Bairam replied in a low voice. "We wanted to add onions."

    "Onions," she repeated that word as if it was the first time she had ever heard it. "Yes, that might work." Her grip on the strange scythe loosened, but that did not give the impression that she had conceded some opening for a counterattack. And even if she had, what could a cook advanced in years and a girl paralyzed by fear have done?

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    "I had sent one of my boys to get some... But he never came back." At least the mystery of his end had been unraveled. Though he would have preferred the assumptions made before to be true. Reality is often disappointing indeed.

    "Oh," an exclamation of genuine surprise that clashed even more with what was the current predicament. Had it been a dish, the ingredients would have been tossed in bulk, making the taste at best bizarre, at worst inedible. "My fault. Try to understand me. I watch your tent for hours, preparing for action. And then, I see one of you rush out. What could I think but that I had been discovered? And then what choice remained but to hurry and perform a frankly botched job?" A sighing lament. Was she talking about some stupid hitch at work or a murder committed in cold blood? "I wouldn''t be surprised if there was some trace left."

    Was she justifying herself to them? An extraordinarily polite murderer, that had to be said. A fair exchange for eating their dinner? By now Bairam was no longer surprised by anything.

    What would happen next? Would they have had a cup of tea together? There wasn''t much of it left.

    "Are you going to kill us now?" On Shaima''s look was all the terror that was to be expected.

    "That''s the plan," the soldier didn''t even try to lie. Whether she had done it out of some strange sign of respect, or because she simply did not think it necessary was impossible to determine. "Now that my plans have changed, however, I could use some information. And about my employers, let''s call them that, new cooks might suit their needs. I mean¡­," she approached, and only then did Bairam realize how slim and small her figure was. But more than cheering him up, it caused a shiver of irritation in all the hairs on his body. "I have to taste the completed version of your soup at this point."

    Ancient texts said that the smiles of the Daevas were so bright that they embarrassed the sun itself, and so terrifying that the moon recoiled at the sight of them. Bairam didn''t know if those stories were true or the classic exaggerations inflated with mysticism of religious traditions, but that now that he saw that graceful yet dangerous humanoid sporting a lip curvature as dazzling as the brightest of stars and as devilish as the deepest of abysses, he understood that, after all, there is always a grain of truth in all kind of stories.

    "Tell me," she continued, casting quick glances around, extrapolating as much information as possible from what they had prepared. "How many of you are there in total, in this camp? I won''t even try to calculate what number all this food is enough for, but I''ll venture that a hundred wouldn''t be that much of an exaggeration."

    "If you think that..."

    "A hundred and fifty, more or less. That number includes both General Arsames'' chosen troops and the regular soldiers, plus the other auxiliaries assigned like us to the needs of the main unit."

    ''Ah, Shila. Do you really not trust our comrades?''

    But when youth was still an unripe seed, it was difficult to let it go before it ripened.

    "Arsames, I''ve heard that name before." The young woman scratched her chin pensively. "It shouldn''t be too difficult." In anyone else''s mouth, what had just been said would have sounded like unwarranted bluster, but in that assassin there was not the slightest trace of boastfulness.

    The worst thing was that, in all probability, she was right.

    "So the girl made her choice. What about you, old man?"

    Bairam was not a soldier. That was what he repeated to himself over and over again. He had never taken part in a battlefield, merely staying in the rear. He proudly flaunted the medal he had received, running his unit with the same discipline as a sergeant, but he had never had any illusions. He knew that the courage to fight with one''s life on the line was not a quality that belonged to him. That was why his answer surprised even him.

    "I could never sell out my comrades..."

    A sharp pain shot through his chest. His heart had been pierced. He began to slump as his vision blurred. As he lost consciousness, he captured the fading image of Shila and felt no resentment towards her. That was an emotion fit only for the living.

    ''Death tastes too bitter even for my taste.''

    As a last meal, it had been disappointing by far.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    If they had asked General Arsames Eghbali Najafi where he would have wanted to be at that moment, his answer would undoubtedly have been "Any place other than the tent of Satrap Tiribazus." Yet, here he was, sharing a less than pleasant chat with an overgrown sheep. Had the satrap started bleating, surprise would have been far different from the reaction Arsames would have expected to feel.

    "How is the research on the Dark Knight going?" If there was one thing that irritated the general, it was the idle questions, to which both interlocutors knew the answer.

    "There has been no change. We know where that woman is hiding. In the court of that old crone the people of Ris call Queen." Arsames drank a cup of tea, but even that could not soothe his nerves. "Let us raze the city to the ground, impale all the inhabitants on a pike, and by the law of large numbers we will have a good chance of finding her too."

    The satrap looked at him with those small, cunning eyes of his, as he was wont to do when he was unsure whether what Arsames had proposed corresponded to the absolute truth or was a poorly executed joke. "That would be... improper. I remind you, General Najafi, that the orders of our beloved sovereign were clear. Spare as many Union lives as possible. I understand that this is difficult for a man of action like you to swallow," he did not understand it at all. Nor was he trying to. "But if we were to put to the sword every place where one of our targets might be, we might as well cease peace talks and destroy the whole thing."

    Finally, a sensible proposal.

    Arsames sighed. He was better than that. He was striving to be better than that.

    "That woman was the only one who survived my sword. An unforgivable affront, demanding justice. Nevertheless," calm, control and discipline. Anger was a tool to be tamed. "I exist only to serve the King of Kings. His will is my will. And his will is now represented by the satraps. It follows that your every command will be heeded by me, Lord Tiribazus."

    The bariaur smiled complacently. "Why don''t you stay and dine with me this evening? Tomorrow we will rejoin the main army, and there will not be many more opportunities left to do so in the future. I will return to the Great Plains, while you will still be guarding the border, should things not go as planned." A servant began to prepare a modest table for the upcoming dinner. The satrap licked his lips in satisfaction. "Head Chef Barium has assured me that tonight''s soup will be exceptional. His masterpiece, he called it. I am very curious to taste it."

    Arsames showed off all his good manners, not many actually, and agreed. "I love soup," he hated it with all his might. "I can''t wait to find out what delicacies have been prepared." He hadn''t had a decent meal in days. The worst thing about life as a soldier was certainly not being able to get his own food. Without the frenzy of the hunt, much of the flavor was lost. "If I may venture a question," why wouldn''t he? "Have we received any more news about Prince Alexander?"

    At that name, Satrap Tiribazus'' proverbial calm began to creak. The hated enemy had that effect. All the more reason to bring him up.

    "He''s hiding, that worm! But I am sure it will be the Union rulers themselves who will serve him to us on a silver platter, perhaps chained and begging for our mercy. Or perhaps he himself will present himself, in exchange for the salvation of his beloved city."

    Arsames could not choose which was the most unlikely alternative. What was certain was that until the Prince was eliminated, not even the Immortals could sleep easy dreams. The only consolation was that it would also cause the satraps a few eyebrows.

    "Speaking of which, General Najafi," Tiribazus moved closer to him, so close that Arsames could smell his breath smelling of rotten cheese. "We are drawing up a list of the subjects... most dangerous to our design. The Dark Knight, Prince Alexander, the Queen of Ris, the Mayor of Bebard, plus other famous names. Previous winners of their silly sports competition, eminent personalities, possible political opponents... In short, there is no lack of variety."

    "And you want me to take care of it?"

    "Not personally," they had returned to an acceptable distance, the satrap having already taken his seat by the table. "This is a job that requires a certain amount of discretion. And I do not believe that is one of the many qualities you can boast of, General Najafi. No, I need you to select a list of men you deem suitable. I will take care of the rest."

    Someone who could clean up their messes, in short. Arsames sighed, more out of weariness than anything else. "It will be done. Give me a couple of days." Perhaps he was the fool of the two. His way of seeing things was old-fashioned. In the empire they were building, they needed sharp brains and skilled calculators, not brutes who only knew how to wield a sword. "Is there any other way I can serve you?"

    "Put you at the table with me. Shouldn''t be long now." The satrap licked his lips once again with relish, as if he already had food at hand. Arsames positioned himself at the opposite end, leaving the space free for Tiribazus'' entourage. A couple of priests quickly erected wooden scaffolding, which made their stay more comfortable, while some others already had rosaries ready to bless the meals that were soon to arrive.

    It would not be long now.

    It was a matter of moments.

    "We are really lucky to be able to enjoy such comfort." Satrap Tiribazus smoothed his palm over the dressing gown he was wearing with ostentatious vanity. For a camp tent, albeit of a high official, there was certainly no lack of luxury. "But when the Great Heaven themselves lead us, to expect anything else would be entirely unwarranted. I propose to make a toast to our God who made himself mortal only to lead us to greatness!"

    Everyone raised their goblets full of wine. Only Arsames remained still, not sharing their enthusiasm. "He is a vessel," he marveled at the low tone he had used. Questioning glances fixed themselves on him. "The King of Kings is not the Great Heaven." He repeated, this time raising his voice. "He is a vessel, as he calls himself." What that meant, Arsames had no idea. "If what is proclaimed here were to reach his ear, he would not be pleased." To use a... how to put it? A euphemism.

    "Of course... Of course... Ours was only the heat of the moment." Tiribazus reassured him, his retinue following his example. "We are all faithful devotees. An honest mistake. Don''t you think, General Najafi?"

    Arsames scratched his cheeks, not knowing what to say. How many other private gatherings like that glorified the supposed divinity of their Emperor?

    "I completely agree with you, Satrap Tiribazus." Hell he was. But, at least for the moment, they had kept up appearances. It was advantageous to be stupid, as no one ever took you seriously.

    But even if that part of the discourse was over Arsames was not a skilled conservationist and the longer they waited to eat, the more embarrassment grew.

    "How much longer?" Snorted the satrap. "Bairam is always as punctual as an azis hourglass. Perhaps something has happened?" One of the servants leaned closer and whispered something in Tiribazus'' ear. His face began to assume an expression of disbelief.

    Arsames did not have time to imagine what they were saying when a second servant approached him, evidently to report what they had just informed their lord.

    "What?" Arsames muttered. Thinking he had heard wrong, the general made himself repeat it a second time, still getting the same answer. "Damn." He hurried outside the tent, quickly donning the helmet he had left at the entrance and brandishing his trusty Willbreaker, companion of a thousand battles. He did not care one bit about the satrap''s reaction.

    "General Arsames," Ehsan, one of his seconds, hurried to receive him, followed by a dozen men of his chosen guard. "You should not have..."

    "Take me to them." There was no time to waste. With a dry, peremptory gesture, Arsames ordered his men to shut up. "And send an escort to protect the satrap." He almost forgot about it. Almost.

    The rest of his unit, along with most of the army, had gathered at the eastern end of the camp, a few steps away from the tents used for cooking. A strange silence, unusual for that large number of people all gathered in one spot, hovered uncomfortably insistent. Arsames made his way through the throng, to better observe what had caused this.

    "Bastards." Keeping calm. Always. He repeated it once. A second. A third. A fourth. "Bloody bastards." He squeezed Willbreaker with as much force as he could muster, so furious that he felt the hilt begin to penetrate the flesh of his hand.

    "Who did this?" He blurted furiously, still facing the macabre spectacle unfolding with ostentatious horror before his eyes. The lifeless heads of his comrades seemed to look at him quizzically, resting on the horsy body remains of a poor unfortunate man who had seen himself cut in half, asking ''if you''re so strong, how come you couldn''t save us?''

    "We don''t know, sir." Not even veterans like his honor guards were able to contain the whirlwinds of emotions that were running through them. "But whoever did it will pay for it."

    Bairam''s lifeless eyes sneered at him, or perhaps it was just his impression. "Why didn''t the reconnaissance teams notice anything? And the sentries?"

    "All the teams we had sent out on patrol never came back." All of them? ''How?'' That was the question rumbling in his head. A massive attack? Had the Union decided to mount a resistance just when the war was over?

    Arsames rubbed his eyes, feeling momentarily drained of energy. He refocused his attention on those now disheveled remnants, begging them that they might provide him with answers, getting only nothing, as was to be expected. "The remaining scouts and rangers?" He took a deep breath, regaining control, searching for something that might help calm his nerves. Willbreaker was, at the moment, the only thing that could soothe his anger.

    "They''re searching the whole camp, sir. There are several tracks left by the mysterious assailants. They should still be around."

    "Stay compact. Whoever it is, it''s dangerous." He pushed back deep inside him that feeling that made his blood boil. "Do not be hasty. Your lives are at stake."

    "What do we do with the corpses?"

    His heart cried. "Leave them as they are." Arsames begged that they might forgive him. "We do not have time to bury the bodies, especially when they are in these conditions. We will return later to finish the obsequies." If promises with the dead were meaningless, at least he could console himself knowing that his word was still worth something. "And, for all that is sacred, increase the protection to the tent of the satrap. No, it should be better to evacuate him."

    "It shall be done, general."

    Now all that remained was to ferret out the intruders.

    "Report, General Najafi." Perhaps it would require less than he had expected.

    "What''s going on?"

    "The western gate. There''s... there''s something."

    Were they making fun of him? Had they not even tried to take him by surprise? Part of him, the more overwhelming one, felt deeply offended, but the more rational one, small as it was, was thankful that the enemy did not shine with intelligence.

    "Let''s go."

    Or was this a trap, and he was falling for it with both feet? Being promoted to general involved a capacity for rationalization and a readiness to make decisions that Arsames now realized were beyond his control. When he was on the battlefield and the din of the throng crept like an overpowering thunderclap into his ears, then the warrior felt his instincts calling him back and the future unfolded clearly in its facets. But in that unnatural tranquility, left alone with his thoughts, the centaur could discern nothing but doubts unsuitable for a valiant Immortal like himself.

    The last orders were given, the adrenalin was rising and the air was getting so light you could glide over it.

    Arsames gave a kick to reason, not the first and with much luck not the last either, and rallied with his retinue towards his appointment with destiny. He was not the type to be late, after all.

    "What are those?" The murmurs of the soldiers, whispered in the moonlight, so low as to be barely heard, so high as to cover the beats of valiant hearts, had objects that were shadows made of bones and iron. In what the mind could not comprehend, the deepest fears took shape. In what reason rejected, death appeared comforting in its certainty.

    "They are attacking!" After a life spent fighting, the most seasoned veteran allowed himself to bask in only one comforting thought: having arrived at that point either one had too little to lose and was therefore foolish to cling to such an ephemeral commodity as life, or there remained to protect something so precious from which the courage of a lion could emerge.

    "Get into formation! Infantry in first position, archers and spellcasters behind! Leave room to maneuver!" In war, there was a never ending moment, whose actual duration did not correspond with that which was perceived, which took one''s breath away, which locked up all the deepest emotions in a moment of quietness, leaving free space for the Daevas to shatter the harmony of the Great Heavens.

    It was the proverbial moment before the storm, the one in which the waters receded, heralding the great wave that was on the horizon and whose impact with the coast was now inevitable. Arsames, and like him his companions, had experienced that split second so many times that it would have been bizarre at that point not to get used to it.

    Not only when he had unsheathed his sword, tasted the blood of the enemy, trampled on the corpses of his comrades. It was a feeling that stayed deep inside you, that left no room even in moments of rest, that sweetened the taste of meals, and made moments of love more delightful.

    It was a drug. A drug so hated, that it triggered contempt for you and others. But heck, if it wasn''t irresistible.

    When the spear of one of the monsters pierced the first victim, when the blood splashed like torrential rain on Arsames, lust pervaded him, a frisson of pleasure went through his whole body and a state of euphoria took possession of him, at the same time leaving him with a lucidity he could rarely display.

    "Do not fear the darkness! Strength and courage!" The general was not conscious whether his words were heard or not, covered by the screams of pain and impetus that now spread like an infernal halo, but his was a mechanical gesture, adapted and refined until it was now perfect.

    Swish

    Willbreaker''s adamantium clashed with the shield of one of the assailants, resulting in a tinny swish. Arsames spun his torso, and unleashed a second slash, which shattered on those bones resplendent as the finest of ivory. "Tsk," Arsames continued his assault, gritting his teeth to resist the temptation to flee, the blows smashing into the shield, penetrating the defenses until they reached that skeletal body, always with little effectiveness. It was a constant bumping and clattering, in which the advantage of his superior physical strength crashed against that resilient wall of bone.

    That which was lifeless looked at him with that emotionless face of his, which reminded Arsames of the most diabolical of sneers, and unleashed a headbutt on the centaur, the impact of their helmets producing a tiny vibration that resonated in the warrior''s head. Face to face, Arsames could almost reflect his image in the pools of darkness that acted as the creature''s eyes. He had seen and observed a wide range of emotions throughout his military career, ranging from hatred, contempt, anger and fear. Instead, this time, he saw nothing but an unpleasant eagerness for destruction that only reminded him of how inhuman his opponent was.

    "I got you, asshole." Willbreaker glowed with flames, a red energy spreading from the hilt to the tip of the sword with particular heat. A maelstrom of fire swept over the skeletal body, locking onto the right end of the chest, while the enemy''s exposed skull did not even emit a regurgitation of pain. Instead, the spear he wielded thundered through the air, thrusting into Arsames'' front right leg. Imitating his adversary, the centaur did not even emit a cry of soreness as he felt the metallic coldness of the spear work its way through his muscles.

    At that point, a contest of endurance ensued. A competition that Arsames was sure to win. Every fiber of his being began to thrust, the pressure of the movement building under every nerve, sliding under every subcutaneous part of him. The grip on Willbreaker grew stronger, burns beginning to appear on the skin beneath his gloves, until he felt a crack, and what was one became two.

    The lower part of the soldier fell to the ground, making a noise inadequate for that size, while the upper part continued to crawl as if it hadn''t even noticed the cut, trying to regain its grip on the spear that came off the strike. Arsames leapt into the air, crushing the skull with his hooves, reducing the being to dust in the wind, putting an end to that blasphemous existence. A sharp ringing sound was the testimony that that confrontation was over.

    But victory is not always synonymous with ending. The battle continued to rage, the number of casualties increased inexorably, the incessant roar mumbled like a drum roll, hope tried to crackle like water between the rocks, seeping into gaps where morale began to crack. Arsames had proved that the enemy was not unconquerable, that for every soldier who fell there was a small fraction of victory that was waiting to be grasped.

    "They are undead. Blunt weapons. Fire magic and divine! Do not approach unless strictly necessary!" He returned to the charge, continuing to leverage the mobility of his soldiers. Troops trained in lightning-fast warfare, a perpetual hit-and-run, now had to adapt to a new kind of warfare. One in which everything they had believed so far had proved fallacious.

    Adaptation. That was the key to success. Combined with a good line of command that was flexible and ready for change. Understand what worked and focus on that. War in the long run was a gamble in which both contenders had little chance of winning. A game rigged from the start always in favor of your enemy.

    Dozens of his team members pounced on one of those skeletons, trying to pin him down. The bodies that lost their last glimmer of life, remained still even after death, to fulfill the task they had deemed essential. Devotion. Each of them had a reason to trade their lives for a single, ephemeral moment. Beneath the Great Heaven, in which everything made sense and put in his rightful place of the cosmos, clouds of light formed, ripping through the placid evening, striking the source of the disaster with dazzling lightning. Streams of magical energy crashed down like a divine judgment, the sentence passed, the evil dispersed.

    But those infernal beings, who came out of the great Arhiman gate, where all that is imperfect thrives, where horror and putridity rejoice in dispersing sacred harmony, did not stop the carnage until they had seen the annihilation of their fellow abominations. Indeed, they gained new vigor with each blow they suffered, increasing the intensity of their lunges and the ferocity of their attacks. The formations broke and reformed in an ungainly rhythm that struggled to find its own tempo.

    "[Rip and Tear]!"

    Arsames threw himself at two of them again, grabbing in his reckless rush a shield from one of his comrades who could no longer make use of it. There was a thud as his shield-reinforced shoulder collided with the first of the undead throwing him into the air. The second was already upon him, grazing the centaur''s back with his weapon, copious blood spilling like a flooding river from the wound. But this only invigorated Arsames, the more the pain increased the more frenzy and excitement followed. Willbreaker flared up again, as divine energy swept over his body, courtesy of the priests of the rear, and as dawn broke through the night, his sword cut through what was not flesh, but which to his hand appeared so, leaving behind a reddish streak with orange flashes.

    "Ahhhrgh." There was a stifled cry as Arsames realized that the first skeleton had risen up and, with a lightning gesture, had thrust his spear into the lower point of his side. The feeling of bewilderment, however, lasted only long enough for him to savor that pain on a par with the most delicious of meals. Gritting his teeth, more than that skinless skull did, in an unspoken contest that already had a winner, the centaur brought his shield down on the enemy.

    Then followed a metallic sound, a cling that gave the men of Arsames'' troop the go-ahead to throw themselves wildly at the skeletal lancer. With a coordination that could only be the fruit of continuous battles, of continuous confidence displayed in times of need, the Immortal''s unit threw itself into the assault, the many became one, an unexpected order in breathless succession of blows. Dead, some. A sacrifice they had accepted.

    When they were finished, only one undead remained, standing before them without emotion. The defeat of his comrades accepted as the most natural thing in this world.

    The skeletal head bent to the side, at such an extended angle that it caressed the armored chest, creaking like well-oiled gears of an obsolete machine, whose clatter was chaotic deception of inefficient function. That arm, only apparently so fragile, made an unnatural movement, before throwing the spear in Arsames'' direction with such intensity that even his fingers and part of his hand still clung to the weapon, whose speed was such that the roar that preceded it sounded like the wailing screams of the creature''s last desperate attack.

    The bullet was approaching.

    "Raise your shields! Protect the general!"

    Immortal. Some might have thought it an arrogant title, a challenge issued to the enemy. This was because they did not understand the promise that lay beneath that title. A life offered could not be claimed by anyone other than the one who received it.

    It was a debt that would not be repaid that day, and perhaps never would be.

    When Arsames saw his men pass away, he did not weep for them or feel any regret. Instead, with all the breath in his body, he exclaimed with the pride of a master who sees his pupil surpass him after grueling training, "Well done!" Thus, in their final moments, those soldiers could know that what they had accomplished had not been in vain. That would have been enough.

    "Now it is time for me to return the favor."

    After covering the distance that separated him from the now no longer so frightening skeleton, Arsames mowed down the still free arm with Willbreaker and then pinned him in a grip. And he began to squeeze. Squeezing him so hard that Arsames could feel his muscles twitching, and his bones shattering. But that was not enough to stop an Immortal. The undead tried to bite him, his crooked teeth the only remaining resource, but the centaur deflected that last resistance with a mighty headbutt. The spells that continued to bombard the now disarmed spearman did the rest.

    Arsames left him a few minutes after the last movements had been made, when the certainty that life -if such it could be called whatever drove that pile of bones to move- had left him.

    They had won.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Tiribazus could not understand what was happening. For someone who was used to having everything under control, an unexpected hindrance to his plans was inconceivable.

    "I demand an explanation. One that makes sense this time." Arsames'' honor guard was escorting him out of the camp, into the forest. They had picked him up in a hurry, leaving in bulk not only all his precious belongings but also most of the documents he was working on.

    "We have already explained this to you, my lord." That soldier, Eshan, not a savage like his commander, but certainly not a refined and inspiring mind, headed the line, about to flee at any moment. "Some undead attacked the camp. General Arsames is pushing them back, and in the process we have been tasked with getting you and your retinue to safety."

    "Undead. Ridiculous. There''s been no sign of them the entire journey, and now you would have me believe that there are so many that you''ve forced an evacuation?" He almost spat, except to remember in whose presence he was. Showing himself as a brute in front of those who were really such did not fit in with his self-image. "The route to be followed was mapped out days in advance, prepared with numerous pieces of information gathered from every corner of the Union. How was such a miscalculation possible, that we ran into such a large horde?"

    No matter how hard he tried to reason with it, Tiribazus could not get his head around it. Undead. The last time they had been sighted in the region, apart from a few minor isolated cases, was more than a decade ago. No. No logical sense.

    "This is not a horde." Explained the soldier, continuing to grip his weapon with only apparent firmness, obvious trembling. "There are five of them."

    "I think I misunderstood." But the look of doubt on the accompanying servants made Tiribazus realize that it was not just him who had misheard.

    Eshan did not sustain his gaze. For a valiant captain in the King of Kings'' army, he certainly did not stand out for his lack of fearlessness. "Skeleton soldiers, it seems. That''s all we know."

    One of the priests accompanying them began to tremble. "Daeva," he muttered in terror. "Punishment for our sins. For our blasphemy."

    Tiribazus raised his hand, about to slap him for that nonsense, but desisted at the last. "Let us not panic." Even if he felt like it at all. The bariaur shook off some soil with his left hind paw, avoiding thinking how many germs were hiding inside. "I am sure a messenger will arrive in a few minutes to tell us that the situation is under control. Skeleton soldiers¡­ They could not be that much of a hindrance."

    It was just too much precaution that they had taken. A nuisance, but nothing tragic.

    "Just another minute." Said Eshan scanning the vicinity, covered by an uncomfortable cloak of darkness. "If no one arrives in a single minute, prepare to run with all your might."

    Never did sixty seconds pass so slowly. The satrap looked at his retinue, a few bewildered servants and trembling priests, barely holding back his disgust. At best, they could give him a few moments in his time of need. Scratching his head, he noticed that some hair had stuck to his fingers. He sighed, for that was all he could do.

    "Someone''s coming." Eshan ducked into the bushes, motioning for Tiribazus and the others to start running. Luckily for them, the stranger was one of the underlings bearing good news.

    "The camp is clear. We have won."

    The longed-for relief spread among those present.

    "How is the situation?" Eshan asked, as he started to turn back.

    "It... It could be worse." Not the best of omens, for sure. But while it was true that being an ambassador did not bring sorrow, it certainly could not alter reality.

    And indeed, what their eyes saw as they returned to the camp only confirmed Tiribazus'' fears. So many corpses that not stepping on one of them, or one of the parts scattered to the four winds, would have been like asking a mouse not to bite into cheese.

    Healers, and anyone else who could stand, attended the wounded and checked the pulse of anyone who might still be alive. In many cases, there was not even the need for a thorough inspection.

    "General Najafi, what happened?" The valiant centaur had a few bandages, but otherwise seemed to still be going strong. Of course, there were also three clerics who kept continuously casting healing magics on him.

    "We must leave as soon as possible." Lack of deference that on another occasion would have been irritating, but Tiribazus assumed that at that moment the absence of etiquette was the least of their problems. "I have already given the orders. We are leaving at this very moment." A tone that heard no reason.

    "What about the corpses? We should cleanse the area."

    "We''ll leave them here." Severed. Further debate was not allowed.

    "I see no remains of our mysterious assailants. What have you done with them?" The point of Arsames'' sword came dangerously close to his neck, and for a moment Tiribazus had the feeling that it was about to pierce him on the spot.

    "That''s the point." There was something in the Immortal''s timbre of voice. Something that a man in his position could not have afforded to feel. "They have dissolved. Not even dust is left."

    The priests accompanying the satrap whitened. Eshan followed their example. Tiribazus could only externalize what everyone was thinking. "Summoning?"

    The silence that followed was answer enough.

    "Their summoners might still be around. This could be our chance to eliminate them before they can regain their strength." One false move, and they could have found themselves back where they started. Success was the friend of those who could recognise the opportunity. "Gather your soldiers again and..."

    "What soldiers?" Arsames roared, blood having begun to flow profusely again from one of the wounds. "Can''t you see that there must not be more than a dozen available men left? And do you want us to start looking for someone without the slightest clue?"

    When had he become the more precipitous of the two? ''Or maybe I was always the foolish one.'' Tiribazus admitted defeat with a shrug.

    "Then let''s go. We can''t afford to stay here much longer, can we?" He raised his arm, noticing that part of the silk on his sleeve had torn. Oddly enough, the only reaction this elicited in him was amusement. "Once we get back home, a nice prize is for all of you."

    His job had many downsides. Very many indeed. But rarely, it could also be rewarding in small ways. He could not bring back those who had given their lives for him -no, not for him- but at least he could not be completely useless in disastrous situations like these. Was that enough? Tiribazus liked to think so.

    "Leaving already? Yet we had only just begun."

    With what proclamation of arrogance could anyone have uttered those words at that very moment? With what irreverence did he reserve no respect even for the dead? When the bariaur turned away, summoned by that voice that did not even attempt to conceal its derision, he found the last person he had expected before him.

    The insolent elf they had met only a day before in Bebard.

    "Five Spartiati weren''t enough. My compliments. Of course, if they had been enough on their own it would have been disappointing by far. But when one''s expectations are dashed, a certain excitement for what is to come is always welcome." She was wearing ordinary Union soldier armor, and had a giant scythe that she twirled listlessly as if it were not an imposing weapon, but a disposable pocket knife. "Really a great sight. And I''m not pulling your leg, seriously. If there was time I would love a second demonstration. But I have noticed that you are in a great hurry and I thought it more appropriate to cut it short."

    A circus tent must have been placed over the camp, and that was the final part that was turning the tragedy into a cheap farce. Arsames was slowly covering the distance between them, wounds ignored, as his soldiers took up positions surrounding the elf by every possible escape route.

    On another occasion, Tiribazus would surely have praised that readiness for action and the unwavering spirit that not even in the face of the most difficult adversity would step aside. And it was his intention to do so, indeed. But his attention was completely captured by the elf who left room for her opponents, not for lack of shrewdness or foolish naivety. It was simply that, just as the satrap could not establish a reason why she should remain motionless, she could not find one why she should move.

    Was she the summoner? But then why attack them in the open? Even if she wanted to take advantage of their momentary weakness, a summoner would not be able to eliminate them all by themselves. Not with Arsames still at large.

    The elf raised her right arm, to bring it to her mouth. Then she yawned, "It''s really getting late. I need a good night''s sleep," she said, as she wrinkled her eyes. It was a... childish gesture. There was no intention to provoke an angry reaction or deconcentrate her foes. "You guys go ahead. I don''t want you to give too much weight to my complaints." Diabolical. There was no other way to describe it.

    Tiribazus was still perfectly capable of making any movement, yet he had the inkling that he could understand the instincts the tiny insects felt when they became trapped in the spider''s web. That continuous wriggling that only made the threads tighter, tighter and tighter, as if their resistance was the crucible and delight of their predator.

    "Follow me. Don''t be caught off guard." Arsames, and for this praise would never be enough, had kept his cool and, after making sure his back was covered and that young girl had been encircled by his troops, headed towards her, ready to launch the first assault. That sword of which he was so proud, a gift from their king if Tiribazus remembered correctly, produced a light that made it impossible to sustain his gaze, but the satrap was steadfast in remaining fixed to observe the scene.

    The archers had gripped their bows, their arrows flashing with energy, while the lancers had positioned themselves behind the elf, ready to skewer her at the slightest sign of uncertainty. The few still able to use magic had harnessed power that even they were not aware they still retained, and provided support with everything their repertoire had made possible.

    It was, in every way, a formation that, if not perfect, still showed the trust that each individual soldier had in the other. Something that was certainly not built in a day, but had been forged after countless battles.

    Arsames raised his sword, a moment that would be followed by others impossible to predict. A great fuss arose. Tiribazus and his men had to take cover to avoid being hit by the storm of dust and dirt that rose with overwhelming force to the sky. The night turned ochre, with scarlet outlines.

    Afterwards, there was something difficult to explain. Tiribazus was not a warrior, in fact far from it. Apart from a smattering of general theory of warfare, his knowledge of the art of war was lacking, and the direct experience that shaped the insight needed to make an expert judgment was almost entirely absent. But, like any being who breathed and could claim to be part of this world, he was aware of the processes of action and reaction that governed the fundamental laws underpinning existence. If not through a fully developed consciousness, it was possible to get there at least through a refined intuition.

    Instead that mechanism that should have been logical had, in a totally inexplicable manner, failed. Arsames had approached the elf, his gallop would have put even the fastest sleipnir to shame, and then crossed her in the same manner as the specters mock organic matter, continuing on his way.

    The satrap was therefore unable to reconcile what reason dictated was impossible with what reality showed him with precise coldness. That feeling of disorientation lasted just long enough for the Immortal to move a few centimeters further away and then split into two mirror-like parts, each of which slumped to the ground with a resounding thud. It was as if someone had crudely attached the two detached pieces of some knight''s toy or other amenity in vogue among children, then slid it over the steep ground and hoped with all his might that the rough work would be enough to keep it intact. Hope, needless to say, forlorn.

    "Ew." The elf, not without holding back verses of disgust, grabbed and then tried to push away some of the pieces of the late Arsames'' organs that had been stuck in a few pieces of her breastplate. Not always with the best of results. "I need to take a bath as soon as possible."

    Her vacant stare then turned towards Tiribazus. The bariaur felt no fury at what had happened, nor did he condemn in his heart the rest of the soldiers who had given up their weapons and, frozen, waited resignedly for what was to come. All their efforts had resulted in absolutely nothing.

    "Daeva." Murmured one of the priests flanking him. "The harmony of the cycle has been broken." Continued another. Disconcerted, they sang ungainly dirges addressed to indifferent listeners.

    ''Perhaps it was never there in the first place.'' But it was a thought that did not sit well with an unphilosophical mind like his.

    "What are you whispering in a low voice? Can I be part of your conversation?" Genuine curiosity came from the girl. So sincere as to be revolting. That lack of malice was probably what had brought those men of faith to an unforeseen conclusion. A demon, in its cruelty, was easy to understand. When, however, characteristics easily attributable to them were lacking, what was unknown could only be defined by familiar thoughts. Naming what was indefinable was common practice, not only among the peoples of the Great Plains.

    "What do you want from us?" So if what they had before them was illogical, they could only use the weapon of reason to try to counter it. Attaching a fifth wheel to a wagon with the expectation that it would move differently would only have been foolish, if not counterproductive. "I wouldn''t have expected to meet again so soon. But evidently I was wrong."

    The elf pulled off a few pieces of muscle embedded in the tip of the scythe. "You are their leader, are you not?" A suffocating pressure emanated on par with the most devastating of typhoons.

    Only once more had Tiribazus'' senses warned him wildly of danger. The satrap swallowed, then lowered his head in assent, aware that there was an unbridgeable abyss between the two of them. And he certainly lacked the courage to peer into it.

    "Good. Take your pick, let''s see... Hum..." She began to count the people present, as if it had been a trivial game. "Four people. Four people will survive and return with me as prisoners. You have one minute, or I will choose for you. You and one of your retinue would be preferable, but don''t feel obliged."

    What madness made him grateful for that ultimatum?

    "And if I should refuse?"

    "You will have no time to repent." A gentle smile.

    Had called him a coward, his peers. Had they called him a traitor, those who would die. It did not matter.

    "I already have in mind who shall be saved."

    Fear was, after all, a form of intelligence.

 Chapter 41: A banquet for everyone

    Chapter 41

    A banquet for everyone

    Sorsilia Empire, at the border of Argland Council Republic

    Keno watched as the small hands moved on the big clock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The snoring, admittedly not too loud, of the others was the only company she had at the moment. Taking great care that the soft light of the candle could not wake her companions, the little vampire slowly turned the pages of an old magic tome, yellowed but almost perfectly preserved.

    ''Complicated mana distribution, but the modeling of the elements should not require too much practice. Of course, it would take a great deal of magical power to activate it. Maybe I could help myself with some special crystals. But the writing of this part is not in the common language, nor any other language that I know of. I should require the help of an interpreter, or the aid of translation magic. But the latter are not always one hundred percent reliable.''

    Keno kept flipping through the pages, turning the double-spent paper between her fingers. It was a pleasant feeling, similar to the one she felt when sliding the sand between her hands. Relaxing, there was no other way to describe it.

    ''It would have taken Mother half the time, and with far better results, to learn a spell of this type from scratch. If I had not received as a gift -or as a curse?- a body that never knows old age, I would never have reached her level.''

    The dawn light penetrated sharply through the window looking out. In a moment of vulnerability the vampire took off the mask she used to wear to rub her eyes. Not that there was any real need to do so, nor any physical impulse to justify that gesture. It was more an unconditional reflex derived from a life spent pretending to be something else.

    Keno watched the rising sun, theoretically her worst enemy, with the weary silence of the room acting as a soundstage. A mundane image, which was repeated no matter what grievances afflicted ordinary mortals. The star shone in the sky as it had done in the past, as it continued in the present and as, in all likelihood, it would do in the future. A comforting certainty that made in perspective every problem that plagued the world as small as she was.

    ''Just like that day. No matter where you look at it from, the sun always shines with the same intensity.''

    The vampire closed the book to prevent the light from ruining the pages.

    ''Then I accepted your hand, Riku. What would have happened if I had refused it? ''

    It was a stupid thought. A mere possibility. Nevertheless, there was no doubt that from a simple decision like that, the path of her life had taken an entirely different direction. Whether it was worth going that way was, unfortunately, an answer Keno could not yet give. An answer she would continue to chase until the end, while that one question would continue to keep her company.

    ''Was it worth it?''

    "Are you awake yet?" Lakyus had placed a small blanket over her shoulders before Keno could even notice, whispering so faintly as to be almost inaudible. "You''ll catch a cold if you leave your body too exposed. There''s a nice breeze around here at this hour."

    "I couldn''t sleep," Keno replied, snuggling even tighter into the cover. The feeling of warmth could have coloured even her cheeks. "And I had this book to study. I killed some time before you lot woke up."

    "What is it? A gift from Lord Suveria?" The girl quickly grabbed the book from the small desk and, once she had opened it, began to read it very carefully, her eyes shining with a familiar curiosity and unapologetic fascination. "There is a part of an alphabet I cannot recognise." Admitted Lakyus in defeat, after a few fruitless minutes. "But, to me, doesn''t seem like such a great spell that justifies all this effort to learn it."

    "And your intuition would be right." Keno took back the book being handed to her, carefully storing it in a magic pouch. "It was my mother''s, hidden in a bookcase of my old home. It took Lord Suveria''s men a long time to find it, but they managed to deliver it to me just before we left on this mission. I know it''s silly," she was thankful of having put her mask back on just in time not to show her expression, "but it was her favorite spell. I''d like to be able to replicate it someday."

    "There''s nothing stupid about it," Lakyus smiled at her with that radiant sweet grin that seemed a natural shape of her face. Sometimes, there were people who seemed to shine no matter what they did. Keno had mixed feelings about the existence of gods, but she couldn''t help but wonder at times if individuals like Lakyus existed only to demonstrate with that apparent perfection the existence of higher entities. "If my parents or uncle were gone, I too would do anything to feel near them, for even a fleeting moment. To desire to once again feel the closeness of those who were dear to us but are now no longer here is not foolish. It is just a... human feeling."

    "Human," Keno focused on that last word with particular attention, shaking her head to banish any foolish thoughts. "Thank you. There''s a reason you''re the leader of the Blue Rose." She wanted to appear sarcastic and scratchy, but sounded particularly sincere. Lying to oneself was not always as easy as people assumed.

    "In this mission you are the leader," Lakyus reminded her, not without causing a weary sigh in the vampire "But, just out of habit, leave it to me to perform the unpleasant tasks that fall to those in charge."

    "Be my guest. Though I don''t think it''s exactly unpleasant. In fact, I''d swear you enjoy it."

    The girl shook out her long blonde hair with a peremptory gesture, sporting a devilish sneer worthy of the cruelest of demons. Then, without mincing words, she raised her voice and shouted: "Time to wake up!"

    And like a flash in the pan, the remaining women of their small team woke up in a daze, amid yawns and not too veiled expletives.

    "This is not the best way to wake up." Tia began, her eyes distorted into a frown. "I''d put it among the ten worst awakenings I''ve ever had," Tina continued, twin to her sister in expression as well. The two sisters began braiding each other''s pigtails with their red and blue bows, as they struggled to keep their mouths shut and not be caught once again in the sacrilegious act, for a first-rate ninja, of being caught half-way between the word of dreams and the one of livings.

    "Devilish boss, next time..."

    "...We won''t leave you a chance!"

    That proclamation of vengeance, never one could have called it playful, was willingly accepted by Lakyus, who reciprocated with a victory gesture and a toothy grin.

    "I said you liked it," Keno couldn''t help but let out a small, barely audible laugh at the scene. If Rigrit could have seen her, what would she have thought? Or perhaps the old heroine had foreseen that moment ever since she had founded the group of adventurers. Frightening. "I''d be careful, though, if I were you. Especially when night falls. The ninjas are in their element in the darkness, and I''d say our two dear twins are already on the warpath."

    "You have nothing to fear for me," a hand covered Lakyus'' right eye, with a theatricality worthy of Re-Estize''s Grand Guignol. "I am the night! I will accept this challenge that will unfold in the darkness of creation. My demonic blood boils with the foretaste of carnage!"

    Keno felt her eyebrows rise to the point of breaking out of her mask.

    "And instead, my stomach churns with hunger," Gagaran got out of bed, snapped all her rows of muscles, a number that was certainly not unimpressive, and then sat back down on the mattress, gazing out towards the horizon with such concentration that someone unskilled in deciphering the mighty warrior''s emotions might have mistaken it for devout contemplation, and not total absence of any thought other than filling her stomach. "Shortie, what have you prepared for us? I feel like I could eat a horse with all its hooves." Her right hand stroked that collection of abs with particular care, creating a rumble that was meant to complete the awakening.

    "Don''t worry, hooves are all you''ll get under your teeth if you expect me to cook for you." There was no vexation on her part. Both Keno and Gagaran would have been disappointed if the vampire had answered otherwise.

    And as proof of this, the woman laughed loudly, finally having found the energy to get up and start preparing. "Unlike you, I am generous enough to put myself at the service of my dear companions. Is there something you desire, shortie?" Gagaran asked her as she made her way to the kitchen.

    The room they had rented was spacious enough to even have a small kitchenette inside. Nothing too luxurious, but enough for the Blue Roses to prepare what little they needed for breakfast. The landlord who had rented it to them had been far too generous in giving them as much space as possible. Of course, he had also been as unfriendly as expected in answering their questions.

    "Some tea will suffice, thank you. And very little sugar, please."

    "Eggs for me." Tia forced her way into the conversation. "And I''d like some bacon!" Tina added, not letting the opportunity pass her by. "Oh, don''t forget to make some grape juice." They said in unison.

    "How can a graceful maiden like me prepare all this by herself?" Gagaran complained, a smile of derision clashing with those words. "Will you at least grant me a little prayer in your heart, when I will be gone due to overwork? I do not ask for much. A few flowers, a small ceremony. A parade, if you really want to go big. But, mind you, nothing too gaudy. No more than half a dozen works that will narrate my exploits."

    "Lucky you settle for little, Gagaran." Replicated Tina. Tia shook her head to confirm what her sister had just said. One statement was little, but two was too many. As a compromise, that was the best they could find.

    "You know me, I am a woman whose appetites are easily filled!"

    "Easily bridged they are. The problem is that even more easily they overflow." Keno teased her. Gagaran fell silent, but not from embarrassment. A cheerful smile expressing what she was thinking was on display on her face.

    "You do know me, shortie. You should try to take my example, and relax a little! A good stretch of nerves would be a real boon for you!" And once again that joyous laugh, brimming with life.

    "You, on the other hand, should try to grow up a little more. In mind, I mean. A little gray matter should go to your head, rather than your chest." Keno would have liked to call her companion annoying, but the truth was that the woman had the power to put her in a good mood too.

    "I will carry your advice in my heart." Gagaran replied, tapping the right hand on her chest with particular ardor.

    "That is, if it can reach it..."

    "...Making its way through all that muscular mass."

    "Ahahahah, you two on the other hand should certainly have no such problems, thin as you are."

    The twins shrugged their shoulders, as if to say: ''this is what it is''.

    "Come on Gagaran, let me help you." Said Lakyus, who was also by that point fully awake and prepared. The vestal armor bestowed on her an absolutely enviable grace. "I really want some coffee."

    "Oh, me too, Devilish Boss." Tia raised her hand, strangely not being followed by Tina.

    "Alright, alright. Evileye, how much time do we have before the meeting with your contact?" Lakyus had put the coffee pot on to boil, while Keno had followed her more to find a way to fight boredom, rather than actually lend a hand.

    "We can take it very easy. The meeting should take place around lunchtime." Though it might have been better to anticipate, just in case. Besides, looking around wouldn''t have been counterproductive. It was for all of them the first time they had gone this far north.

    "Perfect. Then we have plenty of time to enjoy a good meal all together."

    "Definitely the best idea I''ve heard since I''ve been awake." Replied Keno. After all, to fill the stomach of an undead, it didn''t take much.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Tranquility and peace. These two words would fit perfectly if someone wanted to describe the current situation of the small town they were in. People exchanged friendly greetings while working diligently or minding their own business. The streets were kept to perfection, not a trace of dirt or disorder was to be found, and order was such a natural thing that even the presence of armed guards could be said to be superfluous.

    "For a kingdom that has just emerged from civil war, it seems to me that things are going very well here," Lakyus commented, observing her surroundings, looking for anything that might lead her not to call that activity fruitless. "This Empire of Sorsilia in the end is not so bad. Though I must say I''m not used to all this presence of... non-humans."

    A grim-looking orc stopped a few steps away from them, only to abruptly change expression with a friendly expression and exclaim, with a rather bizarre level of joviality for that hour of the day, "Good morning!" as if they had been long-time friends.

    "Um... good morning to you," replied the Blue Rose leader, not without some embarrassment. The orc moved away, still in his jovial manner, although Keno could have sworn that for a second he turned his gaze towards Lakyus'' sword, despite the fact that it was well concealed under her clothes. "I didn''t expect that they could be so friendly to humans. And foreigners to boot."

    "Maybe he just saw you as a particularly pretty toothpick, boss." Tina hypothesized. "With those long, slender legs he must have thought how nice it would be to stick you between his teeth so he could get rid of the extra food." Tia concluded that funny hypothesis, which had nonetheless made Lakyus''s face flush, now defying the sun for warmth.

    "But no, what are you saying..." She stammered, making excuses to disprove those remarks. "My figure is common to countless other women my age."

    "False modesty..."

    "...Not a great quality to have."

    "Idiocies aside, it is true that this image is far different from the one I had made in my mind before coming here," Keno said, not without a certain insecurity. "I have seen my fair share of false peace, but everything here appears so genuine as to be almost repulsive. Her eyes fell on what looked like a young mountain ogre helping a lupine-faced old woman carry large shopping bags. Images like that could be found in droves in that limited space. Even some humans, certainly a minority, but not so few in number as to be considered a rarity, exchanged gestures of friendship and affection with what, in many other parts of the world, would have been their natural predators. "It reminds me of many of Argland''s promotional campaigns on cohesion and integration. But it took the Republic years and hard work to get to such levels. Here it has arrived at the result without suffering the required sacrifice."

    "Or maybe you make too much of it, shortie." Gagaran''s armor glowed with crimson light as the woman looked on in wonder at the spectacle that left Keno doubtful. In her there was the same delight in her as a child brought to a great festival, where there was no lack of delicacies and extravagances. "Besides, you said it yourself. Civil wars, and a further war with an invading nation. Perhaps the inhabitants have merely realized that it is better to live in harmony with their fellow countrymen, rather than waste time fighting each other."

    Certainly a remarkable sentiment, but one that did not convince the vampire in the slightest.

    "It''s all so... cheerful. There''s a willingness to help others that I''ve rarely seen." No sign of beggars, or poor orphans. Everyone was lending a hand, helping others out of pure selflessness. They were all so courteous and carefree as to be cloying. "Those ideals of altruism and chivalry that so fascinate me seem to have come to life." Yet there was a drop of regret and uncertainty in Lakyus'' words. "I wonder if it is the same at the highest levels. It would be nice..." But she did not finish the sentence.

    "Are you thinking of Re-Estize?" Keno asked, not without a feeling of guilt. What for, she wasn''t sure. "I''m sorry for dragging you so far away without much warning. But I wouldn''t have wanted anyone else by my side on a mission like this." There was a time when she would have had a hard time admitting it, but now it came as natural to her as breathing. Not that she really needed to.

    "You don''t have to be sorry," Lakyus comforted her. An honest tone, too much so. "Nothing had happened for weeks that justified our staying there. Princess Renner believed, perhaps rightly, that our presence was too great a bogeyman that made Eight Fingers too cautious. A short absence might make them more careless, giving us a chance to catch them by surprise."

    The criminal organization known as Eight Fingers was the Kingdom''s worry and mischief. A parasite born and lovingly nurtured by all that was rotten in the ruling class of Re-Estize. Some, a few, considered it the source of the Kingdom''s evil. Others, the more cynical ones, like Keno herself, were not so sure that the Eight Fingers'' was a world apart, or simply the more bluntly honest and true part of the values Re-Estize championed. The fact remained that in the last time they had been far too quiet.

    "Are you still in touch with her? With the Princess, I mean." The ray of sunshine that was the third princess of the realm was also the ray that illuminated the doubts of the Blue Roses, or of Lakyus, at least. It could have been nice to have that influence on someone''s life, Keno thought. Or maybe it was such a terrible burden to bear as it sounded.

    "We are trying to keep in touch once a day, so if the need should arise, we could return as soon as possible."

    "The miracles of magic!" Exclaimed the vampire, having finally guessed what their plan was. "But don''t think teleportation is such an easy spell to use."

    "Luckily there''s a little lady who masters it to perfection," Gagaran interjected, giving Keno''s left shoulder a vigorous pat. The fact that she had managed to stay on her feet after that affectionate gesture showed just how great her abilities were. Although a little more tact wouldn''t have hurt next time. "If you didn''t exist, shortie, they''d have to invent you."

    "And who would have to? You? Surely there''s no shortage of raw material in that pile of biceps you call a body." Indeed, if Gagaran had given her a few inches it would not have been something Keno would have been averse to. Unfortunately, there were those who had too much and those who had too little.

    The warrior replied with an even more scowling tilt of her lips. "That''s why I like you, shortie. You are small, but there is so much pride in you that two people of normal stature could not contain it!" The way she attracted attention was certainly magnetic. More than one demi-human had stopped to look at her in amazement. Of course, on that particular occasion a little more discretion wouldn''t have hurt.

    "While in you, Gagaran, it fits like a glove." Said Tina, raising her right index finger and pointing it to the woman, almost as if she were taking her measurements..

    "Is it your body that has adapted to that strength of spirit, or the other way around?" Tia asked no one in particular. The two sisters exchanged small, and almost imperceptible, facial flexes, which for two normal people would have been the equivalent of funny faces of derision. For two skillful ninjas, an excessive display of expressiveness.

    "In any case," Lakyus was fit to be the leader because she had the great and rare ability to return in a heartbeat to the point of the matter when it was lost in the banality of mundanity. "Where should we meet with your informant, Evileye?"

    "There should be an abandoned church a few meters from here." It would have been more than enough of a clue if they could have at least glimpsed the shadow of a structure resembling a church, but the facades of the buildings that came before their eyes did not have a single distinguishing mark that could help them in their search. Indeed, if the place had a flaw, it was the monotony in which patterns of the environment were repeated one after the other, leaving little room for imagination.

    "Country you go, architecture you find, I suppose." Gagaran snorted, wrinkling the nose. "Let''s try asking some locals for information." Following that sensible reasoning, the woman approached what appeared to be an ogre, albeit of slender build and unusually graceful features, intent on tending some plants in a garden that sprouted from what was most likely his home.

    "Good morning, stranger," to break the ice, Gagaran began in the same way she had seen other inhabitants of that small town do, in an awkward manner that some might have found not without charm. The ogre turned calmly, drawn back by that familiar greeting, and reciprocated with unexpected candor.

    "Good morning to you," he replied, still tending his garden. A little paradise that had certainly cost hours of effort and love.

    Keno, with no little surprise, noticed some blue roses growing shyly in the bed of flowers, the softness of which, to the eye, gave the impression of a cloud plucked from the sky for the express purpose of bringing that precious softness to the bare earth.

    "Please excuse me if I''m wasting your time, I can see you''re very busy taking care of this little green paradise, but my friends and I will need a simple direction." With a politeness that seemed almost unnatural, it was certainly by far unexpected, the woman unleashed all the good-manners she possessed. Whether it was a lot or a little, Keno preferred someone else to judge.

    "Oh, for a woman as beautiful as you, I could never be bothered," the ogre had put down with extraordinary speed the shears he had been holding up to that moment and started scrutinizing Gagaran with eyes that ranged from dreamy to enraptured. "How can I help you? If it is within my power, it will be my pleasure to provide assistance."

    "We are looking for an abandoned church," Gagaran replied, not noticing the intensity with which she was being stared at. Which was ironic, since it was the same look she had given, with less subterfuge, to those who had caught her attention. "If you could provide us with directions on where to find it, we would be most grateful."

    "Oh, it''s only a short walk from here, but it''s in an area that''s a bit left to itself, which is why you haven''t seen it." Unexpectedly, the ogre seethed and the friendliness disappeared in the blink of an eye. "Ten minutes in a westerly direction and you will come to a small clearing, where the remains are." He took up the shears again, turning his back on them. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do. Have a nice day." He said to them, though his tone suggested an altogether different wish.

    "That was very strange." Tia commented, looking around. All the inhabitants in the vicinity who had until a few moments before shown the hospitality that could only be seen in fairy tales were now avoiding the Blue Roses coldly, almost as if they were pretending they weren''t there in the first place.

    "Abrupt change. Something stinks here." Like her sister, Tina had sniffed like a dog sniffs a bone at the strangeness of the situation.

    Keno was undecided what to do. As strange as that sudden change had been, she could not tell whether it was due to the object of their search, or to some unwritten convention they had ignored. "Well, we don''t have time to mull it over too much. Perhaps Gagaran has been very rude in ways we ignore. Isn''t it strange that in a place so far away the customs are different from what we are used to." It was not the first time the vampire had had to face that monster called ''cultural differences''. And it certainly wouldn''t be the last.

    ''Don''t talk. They hide in your whispers.''

    "What is it?" Lakyus looked at her as if a ghost had just made its appearance. "You turned around sharply. Did you notice anything?"

    Keno regurgitated an unpleasant feeling. For one fleeting instant the world had turned into a fog, and the sight of her companions had blurred before her eyes. A ghostly voice kept calling her back. No, it was not a voice. More a jumble of sounds that repeated seemingly familiar patterns, acquiring meaning only through the distinctiveness they aroused in the listener. An imitation of language that the more it was repeated in her mind, the more alien it became.

    "No, it''s nothing." She lied. There was no need to worry Lakyus and the others about what had most likely only been a suggestion. "I''m just a little tired." A concept that theoretically couldn''t apply to her, but that didn''t mean she couldn''t prove it. Tiredness of mind did not always correspond to tiredness of body.

    Not giving much thought to what had happened, they resumed their walk. Despite the doubts that had begun to creep into their minds, there was relief in seeing that the ogre had been sincere, even if he had omitted a few details. Indeed, the abandoned church was outside the town, but it was not alone. Other buildings, many still in excellent condition, kept it company.

    Climbing plants unstoppably decorated in their growth what had once been the work of sentient hands. Here too, as in the ogre''s garden, a few blue roses stood out with particular intensity among the foliage and cracks, giving the feeling that nature had taken over the carelessness that had befallen stone and wood, remedying it with its sweet seeds.

    "Creepy." Once upon a time that might well have been a square like so many others, comfortable in its banality. Now, however, calling it a cemetery would not have been an entirely incorrect definition. "Aren''t they afraid of the undead?" There was so much negative energy in the area that it was almost funny. Yet, of the undead not even the glimpse of a shadow.

    If someone had been able to take an unrealisable dream and trap it in the canvas of a painting, only to have it come to life later, when the colors had faded with time, they would have achieved a result not too different from what Blue Rose was now admiring.

    "If there was something that stank before, now we''re looking at a whole dunghill." Gagaran had gripped her war hammer, applying a caution normally unusual in her steps. "Let''s be careful."

    "Kilineraim is going crazy. Keeping it at bay requires tremendous concentration. I don''t know how much longer I can maintain control."

    If even Lakyus''s demon sword had that reaction, perhaps the situation was more serious than anticipated. Keno considered whether they should turn back. The apparent calm inviting them in was all too suspicious. So much so that the real event would have been if nothing had happened.

    "All clear here." Tia and Tina had preceded them and, moving through the shadows as if they were their own home, arriving at the large doorway that served as the entrance to the church. "Sister, let''s check that no one is there."

    The blue bow Tia wore in her hair moved imperceptibly as a kunai was thrown inside the foyer. A moment of silence anticipated their reaction, before it was broken by an unexpected exclamation.

    "Hey, hey, wait a moment! I have no hostile intentions!" The kunai had brushed past a wolf-like demi-human, who had quickly raised his hands in surrender. "You''re my contact, right? You have nothing to fear, the place looks like something out of a horror story, but otherwise it''s as boring as you''d expect from a church."

    He was smoking a cigarette, the fog of which hovered all around. "May I?" His hands slowly lowered. The left one was brought to the cigarette, from which another puff of smoke came out. The right scratched the hair behind his ear with particular insistence. "Fucking fleas, this place is full of them. A real hell. Took you long enough to get here. Punctuality is not the best quality of you humans, is it?"

    "How do we know you''re the one we were supposed to meet up with?" Keno''s attention was caught by the elegant bright blue jacket their interlocutor was wearing, particularly the numerous insignia decorating his chest. Nevertheless, the vampire was careful to assess his every move, already prepared to quickly cast a spell had he made a funny move.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Like her, the rest of Blue Rose was also in battle stance, guard high and weapons quivering in anticipation of combat. The demi-human brought a hand to his jacket, immediately eliciting their reaction. "No need to heat up tempers! I just wanted to give you this," he said, as he pulled out a letter which he promptly threw to Keno.

    "What does it say?" Gagaran asked, her attention always focused on the non-human.

    "It is a letter of introduction, signed by Lord Suveria himself." Keno read it quickly, then activated an identification magic. "It is genuine, no doubt about it."

    "See? You can trust me. But I can''t say that in your shoes I would have done otherwise. I''ll call it a trial of trust, and that''s it." After he had finished smoking he threw the cigarette stub to the ground, stomping it hard with his foot. "Well, I''d say it''s time for introductions." A mocking smile landed on his face. "Sergeant Mairon, of Her August Majesty the Queen''s Corps of Exploration. Chosen member of the Guard Corps of His Eminence Lord Protector Crowley of the Commonwealth. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am sure we will have a lot of fun working together!"

    Great Wythes, Cities States Union

    Antilene strolled into the large hall with no real idea of what she was witnessing. Kista led their small, disordered line, while Agravaine followed slowly behind them.

    The three women were in an old palace that from the outside caught the eye with its grandeur but, seen from the inside, was astonishing in its decadence. The marble, completely white, followed one another in unbroken sequences of total absence of color, except for a few crusts where the signs of time were concealed with unparalleled sloppiness. Once a symbol of the great power of a healthy and prosperous state force, it revealed the decline to which even the great had to submit under the implacable judges that were the epochs.

    "The assembly is about to begin. Come, let us take our seats." Kista made her way through a not inconsiderable crowd of people, slipping through the throng like a snake. Once in a while a dignitary from some town would stop to greet her, exchanging quick pleasantries that never lasted longer than they had to.

    Antilene tried to imitate her, not without some difficulty. For the occasion she had decided to wear one of the earrings that masked her features, not making her stand out any more than necessary. Of course, when imposing hobgoblins or anthropomorphic insects were the order of the day, it was difficult to notice a little half-elf like her.

    "Are you sure about what you''re doing?" Agravaine, unlike her, seemed comfortable in that cosmopolitanism of different races and cultures. Where Antilene proceeded with uncertainty, her sister displayed the confidence of someone so used to that spectacle to perceive it as something mundane. Where Antilene struggled to hold back a certain disgust at the pungent smells and grotesque aspects, Agravaine had no problem expressing her curiosity about the unknown.

    "Of course not." Replied the half-elf, deftly shooing away a tiger-man who had come too close for her liking. "Don''t you find it exciting to proceed without a definite plan? Let the wind and the turn of events transport us to unknown and unfamiliar places." The monotony of everyday life was a comforting certainty for many, but after centuries even it could become stifling. Antilene had therefore decided to provide some freshness, to prevent the gray danger of existence from starting to knock at her door.

    "Starting a war is not exactly what I would call ''letting events take their course''." The elf clutched her right arm, perhaps in the grip of bad memories, or perhaps simply to regain her conviction. "But I said I would follow you even into hell," one of her eyes glittered with uncertainty, "and I will abide by my oath."

    "Sister, that is where you are wrong. I never intended to start a war," after all, being the cause of two conflicts at her age would have been unpleasantly inappropriate. One at the moment was more than enough, for the second would perhaps be talked about in a few centuries. "But my good heart prevented me from leaving the poor inhabitants of the Union at the mercy of a perfidious invader." When a goblin representative was on the verge of tripping, nearly touching her leg, even Antilene did not know where she found the strength to avoid crunching his head like a walnut.

    "Is it your good heart or your hatred of non-humans that motivates you?"

    "Can''t it be both? Besides, hate is a big word. It implies a level of involvement that hardly suits me. I have only felt hatred for one person in my life and, on this point I am sure you will agree, they had to earn it. If I started hating anyone I came across, it would be an insult to their efforts." No, definitely hating was not something that suited her. Too much energy expended, too many sleepless nights spent mulling over the causes of that feeling. Not hating was far easier.

    Antilene did not hate the inhabitants of the Great Plains, or the non-human citizens of the Union. She found them repulsive, that she did. But it was no more than a superficial hunch. Something that had very little influence on her life and the way she saw things.

    "If you are convinced, who am I to say otherwise? Even if you are right about one thing," her lips joined in a tired smile, with a hint of optimism breaking the melancholy, "we have spent far too much time hating. The time has come to turn our gaze to a future that is yet to come, rather than fixate on a past that has nothing more to offer."

    "I don''t know what you''re referring to," Kista had listened to their brief conversation in silence, with a few sporadic head motions to externalize her approval. "But there is much to share in those words. In the course of my work, I have seen far too many times how grudges that never subsided have been detrimental to relationships that might otherwise have benefited the entire community." The mayoress opened the large door leading to the main hall of the palace. "You too will soon realize this." Despite the delicacy used, the doors creaked with such rumbling intensity that they drew the attention of all those who had already arrived to the three women.

    It didn''t take much to get the first greeting.

    "Mayor Cabelia. You enchant everyone with your beauty, as always."

    There was so much falsehood in those short words that it would be hard to believe it was not intentional. A monkey-like demi-human covered in tawny-brown fur, so thick that it made the elegant red dress with golden stripes he wore almost superfluous, whose contrast with the skin stood out on his body like an eyesore.

    "Magistrate Kostas, your compliments are as always a source of great embarrassment." Kista theatrically waved her hand in the air, as if it might help to chase the -false- blush away from her face. "It is a pleasure to meet you after such a long time. Even if not on the best of occasions. How are things progressing in Orcneas?"

    "It''s been a tough few years. Years of hardship and sorrow. If even an eminent personality like your grandfather has decided to retire, it is a sign that times are changing." The ape-man raised his hands to the sky, revealing small winged members, whose membrane hung loosely between arms and legs, from wrists to hips. "But at least we can finally end our tribulations and finally obtain peace. There are so many opportunities just waiting to be grasped." With the fingers of his right hand he adjusted the belt that closed his tunic, casting questioning glances at Kista. "I hope that at least the great mayor of Bebard shares my hopes. Prosperity and peace should be the guiding words for this meeting."

    "My hopes are placed where my heart is placed." Kista replied, adjusting the fold of her beautiful crimson and gold dress. To compare her grace and elegance with that of the demi-human would have been like equating a peacock with a hen. "We will both speak for our beloved cities. How could I even allow myself not to bring back what are the wishes of my people?" The woman flashed the most sincere smile Antilene had seen recently.

    "I understand. You are certainly right, Lady Cabelia." The magistrate''s hard face betrayed what he really thought. Then his attention turned to Antilene and Agravaine. "Who are these women, if I can ask? I don''t recall ever seeing two elves accompany you during our meetings. A rare breed in the Union." And then he looked at them with the same intensity with which one scrutinizes something rare and exotic. Antilene was uncomfortable with the way that animal on two legs imitated humanoid movements with grotesque results. "I''d like Orcneas to start having a higher humanoid influence, I''ve always found your total lack of fur and fangs fascinating. So fragile on the outside, but so tough on the inside. A pity my colleagues don''t feel the same way."

    "Let me make the introductions." Kista pointed to Antilene, who had remained aloof until then. "This is Queen Antilene Heran Fouche, new ruler of the elf kingdom of Evasha, who came to visit me just a few days ago. And the one accompanying her is Lady Agravaine, her attendant."

    As Agravaine bowed slowly in respect, the half-elf remained motionless.

    "Lady Fouche, that name is not new to me. You have been the focus of many discussions lately, if I am not mistaken." Kostas rubbed his temples. If that listless movement could help his memory, it would probably remain a secret. "Excuse my impertinence, but I do not understand why you have decided to take an interest in affairs that will have very little interest whatsoever with your kingdom."

    What he meant was ''why are you meddling in matters that do not concern you?'' Antilene appreciated to a certain extent that kindness shown, however insincere, but she did not think as much of the canines that had begun to sprout intimidatingly from his mouth.

    "I didn''t think a apeman could show so much sympathy for two mere humanoids." Political business was indeed stressful. Normally, the half-elf would have merely squeezed that demi-human''s throat and left his body at the mercy of the vultures, but it was clear that she could not do that on this occasion. Unless she eliminated everyone who wasn''t a non-human in the room. And as feasible as that was, Antilene doubted Kista would take it well. "As for my presence..." ''that''s my business,'' she would have liked to reply. Instead, she simply told the truth, with a few minor alterations and omissions. "I am here as Lady Cabelia''s escort, to offer her my support in such a difficult time. Finding myself in the position of ruler almost by chance, there are still many things I need to learn, and Lady Cabelia has been an unparalleled mentor in this, as well as a valuable friend. Unless this should cause some trouble, in which case it will be my pleasure to leave this room at once."

    The apeman narrowed his eyes, uncertain how to continue. Although Antilene scolded herself for that thought as soon as she had formulated it, she hoped he would give her a reason to demand satisfaction on the spot. However, the demihuman was lucky, as it was a third voice that spoke for him.

    "It certainly won''t be a problem. Indeed, a prominent personality such as yours can only offer advice to this little gathering of tired old voices like mine." The speaker was an old woman with apparently human features, were it not for her entirely greenish skin, as if a terrible disease had plagued her. "Although, with a nickname like yours, Elf Queen, I will have to be very careful not to get too close to you." Long, discolored, oily hair fell over an apparently fragile face, whose number of wrinkles was so high that it could be mistaken for freckles. The ordinariness of the tunic, also a disgusting slime green, made that look even more aberrant.

    At her side stood a knight fully clad in gleaming black armor with a long sword that seemed forged in the darkness itself on his shoulder, shining like a starless night. Two violet eyes could be glimpsed from his helmet, and they pointed almost instantaneously at the half-elf, only to soon be detached and setting on Kista.

    "Queen Kirke!" Kista squeaked in astonishment at the sight of the old woman, bowing with drawn energy. Antilene could not share that sentiment. "The journey must have been long since Ris. Let me help you." She offered her a hand, which the old queen politely declined.

    "Kind as ever, but this pile of bones is still capable of standing on its own." That old queen -Kirke- carried a stick surrounded by various symbols, many of them unknown to Antilene, which she began to grip more tightly. It had to be said that the image of the helpless old woman had been studied in the smallest detail. "But I see that your guest does not seem to be of the same opinion as you. I feel such a murderous air enveloping me that my breathing becomes heavier just from the pressure. Another couple of minutes carrying on like this, and I think the heart attack that many in here hope will seize me will not delay."

    It had been an instinctive reflex, which Antilene had stifled promptly, but evidently not as quickly as she had believed. "A simple strain you can call... professional. Bad habits that have not yet been completely eradicated." Inexperience was a nasty beast to tame. It always arrived at the most inopportune moments. "If I may make excuses, however hasty, meeting a Green Hag in a place like this was not in my plans by far."

    The knight stood between them, though Antilene judged that of the two he was not the more dangerous. Agravaine also approached, partly worried, partly intrigued. "Green Hag? What is it?"

    "Aberrant beings who gave up their humanity in exchange for some stupid benefit granted by some demon. If you were ever to go to hell, not that I''d recommend it, you''d recognise them by their unbreakable laughter." An explanation perhaps not entirely comprehensive, but certainly quaint enough. "A good deal. Eternal damnation in exchange for a few magic tricks and a delay of Surshana''s coming. The beauty cream manufacturers'' worst nightmare, on the other hand." For, indeed, immortality never rhymed with eternal youth. And in every deal, in the end, there was a hefty bill to pay. Had they asked her opinion, the half-elf would have had no qualms about saying that the demon pacts were a scam with only too much good publicity.

    "You seem to have met one before." Commented Agravaine, coming far too close to her. Was she expecting a confrontation? Antilene did not know whether to be moved by the readiness with which she had laid down her life or shocked by the stupidity with which the elf was prepared to throw it away.

    "Not personally. But among my acquaintances can be counted many who have had the pleasure of fighting with such creatures. Though fighting would not be the most appropriate term. Good manners require me, in any case, to remain vague." The half-elf sighed resignedly, with such weariness that she could indicate nothing but lack of interest. Kista and the magistrate of Orcnes had remained aloof. The former, with growing concern. The second, with a smirk of satisfaction. "Do not worry, Queen of Ris, for I have no intention of following their example. For the moment, we are on the same side. And I have no intention of changing that." She said, with the warmest smile she could muster.

    ''Except if you were to give me a good reason.'' But that thought would have been better if it had remained well dormant.

    "I am aware of your intentions, Elf Queen. Just as I am aware of how your countrymen have for years hunted those they could never understand." Anger masquerading as sorrow. When even the soul was for sale, emotions faded in meaning. "The only demons that concern the stories of poor persecuted people like us are those that feed ignorance and fear, passing off darkness as light."

    "Great sentence. You should write it down somewhere. It would be the perfect ending to a tragic play. I can already feel the tears starting to fall from my eyes." Replicated Antilene amused, pretending to wipe off the embarrassing liquid. It was not falsehood, hers. Recognising the cleverness of others was the first step towards achieving success. As was identifying their idiocy.

    The old woman shared that sentiment. "You are an interesting person. I think we will see some good things at this meeting." For a moment, her curtness seemed only an impression. Erecting herself with unexpected magnificence, the Queen of Ris seemed to tower over all the other representatives with no particular difficulty. "Lady Cabelia, it was a pleasure to see you again. Lord Kostas, convey my greetings to the other magistrates of Orcneas."

    The mayoress calmed down, having until that moment feared that a disaster might ensue. The monkey-faced demi-human, on the other hand, grunted something under his breath and turned away after paying his respects.

    "Still as pleasant as I remembered him." The hag said, watching him move. "Before we left, I almost forgot, my bodyguard intended to tell you something."

    The knight, who had remained aloof until then, removed his helmet, revealing, to Antilene''s surprise, a hard but undoubtedly feminine face that looked at Kista with regret. The mayoress allowed herself a moment of surprise, only to regain control immediately. "Kista..." she quickly corrected herself, as if she had dared to say something unforgivable, "no, Lady Cabelia." A pause, as Kista watched the woman with no less emotion. "I am pleased to find you well." An awkward attempt, equal to that of a schoolboy towards his first crush.

    But it undoubtedly appealed to the mayoress of Bebard, who reciprocated with a slender "Thank you". Then, curling her hair with her fingers, she continued. "You look well too, Mirina. I am glad to know that the Queen of Ris has been treating you well."

    The knight touched her hand, only to retract it as soon as the skin made contact, in a mixture of embarrassment and shame. "Sorry, I didn''t mean to." Kista smiled at her, as if to tell her she had nothing to worry about. "Yes, the Queen treats me like a friend... no, what am I saying... like a sister. I am immensely grateful for all the help she has given and is still giving me." The old hag nodded in approval. Antilene wanted to puke at her satisfaction. "Kista, I just wanted to say I am sorry. I..."

    "You have nothing to apologize for." Kista blocked Mirina before she could continue, her face reflecting an emotion not too dissimilar from the regret that furrowed the knight''s face, almost as if a crown of thorns had been placed on their heads and continued to inflict unbearable pain for who knew how long. "How could I bear you a grudge? You left to make Bebard safe... To make me safe."

    This time Mirina took Kista''s hands firmly, clasping them with the disruptive affection of a waterfall, shining with overwhelming fortitude. "I could have sent you a message, but I didn''t know what to write. Words have never been my strong point. In this you have always been the best. But I promise you that one day we''ll be together¡­ again. I will do everything to end this war."

    "I know," Kista reciprocated with equal energy. "And the same goes for me."

    "Do you think they will kiss now?" Agravaine was unexpectedly intrigued and taken aback by that unexpected display of affection. The elf, who was clearly not used to such spectacles, watched the scene with the same transport as a reader who cannot help but turn the page after hours of reading, immersed in an enchanted world far from the mind, but close and familiar to the heart.

    "I have no idea, although they may have attracted far too much attention." In fact, Antilene seemed to be the only one who noticed that all the other representatives were struggling to look the other way and concentrate on something else. "All this cheesiness right now doesn''t seem appropriate for the occasion." She sighed, just in time to see Kista and the knight part. Unexpectedly, the mayoress did not look rattled; in fact, she had more vigor than usual. She moved more decisively, and waved with renewed energy.

    "Even if we convince ourselves that we act for the masses, in the end it is always the singles who push us to take a stand," the half-elf murmured softly. "Love is indeed frightening."

    "Did you say something?" Agravaine asked.

    "No, nothing." Antilene replied.

    "Excuse me for... the awkward moment." Until that moment, Antilene had thought Kista a calm person capable of controlling her emotions, but the traces of redness that still coloured her face like an unquenched sunset beyond the horizon showed how deceptive superficial impressions could be. "I thought I could have been able to control myself, that if I saw her again I would show the necessary coolness. But..."

    "No need to add more." The half-elf did her best to make the woman understand that she had nothing to apologize for. "What kind of person would I be if I burdened you with such an important moment? All you''ve done is give me one more good motive to get on with our resolutions." Awkward attempt, no doubt, which, fortunately, the Bebard mayoress seemed to appreciate.

    "You are right." Kista reassured, casting one last glance at her beloved, this time not with melancholy, but resolve. "Come, it is about to begin."

    "Make way."

    Everyone was starting to take their seats in the chamber. The layout of the room had a large central throne, assigned to no one in particular, on either side of which were the benches assigned to the various cities. Of course, Kista led the two elves to the space specially reserved for Bebard. Antilene noted, without much surprise, that one of those spaces remained empty, which coincided with what Kista had told her about the Union''s current state of affairs.

    Above the throne was a sculpture of a book, inscribed ''Mother Law'', opened in half, with what were the most significant articles on independence and self-government on display. The composition reminded Antilene of the manner in which the effigy of the Six Great Gods were affixed to the center of every major building of the Theocracy, to serve as a guide to the actions of men at all times.

    ''Although the Union has no official Gods, they certainly did not struggle to find a suitable substitute for their veneration.'' Thought the half-elf, somewhere between amused and surprised.

    "Good, we can begin." Taking the floor was a lion-headed demi-human, speaker chosen in a preliminary vote and representative of Great Wythes, the city where the conference was held. "There is no need for me to tell you why we are all gathered here, but a brief summary might be useful, not least to be clear about the reasons why we are voting today."

    At this point he began to recount everything starting from the beginning of the invasion, the fall of Karnasus, the recent visit of the ambassadors from the Great Plains... Antilene found, again without much surprise, that everything Kista had told her corresponded to the truth. Almost disappointed by how closely the script was following the predetermined path, she began fiddling with her hair in boredom, making great efforts to stifle yawns.

    "And that''s all," the speaker closed his speech in a clear and firm voice, a symptom of adequate and painstaking preparation. "Now, are there any questions?" No one dared raise his hand. It was evident that all of them had already made up their minds. "Then we can start with the voting discussion. Each of you takes the floor to voice the decision made by the city of which you are representatives. If anyone would like to make comments, I ask all present to proceed in an orderly and composed manner."

    Antilene was accustomed to the Cardinals'' meetings, where cooperation and the exchange of ideas outweighed any personal bias and opinions. A precise dialectic to synthesize the primary needs and clearly establish the objectives to be pursued. In this regard, the Union had much to learn.

    Although the positions were almost evenly distributed, with a slight advantage for those calling for surrender, the prospect of arriving at a decisive result was slim. Undoubtedly, the representatives proceeded in composed order, with small objections raised here and there, and this only increased the feeling that they could go on forever without achieving anything.

    "General Chazos is as pompous as ever, he was just lucky that Beppo Allo was left without a governor for now after the unexpected death of Lord Deid Mann. No wonder he never managed to win a battle. Warmongering personalities like his are dangerous. The leader of Franklin''s merchant guild is an old fox, I wouldn''t have expected anything else. How many commercial tracts of your colleagues did he sell to the Equestrian King for new monopolies?" Kista continued to rattle off names and surnames, dynastic lines and affiliations with a precision that was extraordinary.

    Unfortunately, to Antilene''s ears, that was a long, unremarkable list of details whose importance, admittedly very high, was not as easily registered in her mind. To make up for that shortcoming, the half-elf began to focus on small details that would make it easier to remember such exhaustive explanations. Thus it was that famous generals and dignitaries were dubbed, with honors certainly great and extraordinary, worthy of immortal princes and kings of legends, ''swine-face'', ''overgrown goblin'', ''far too many eyes on that face'' and so on.

    "Lady Cabelia, you have been particularly quiet. Do you perhaps have something you wish to share with us?" Monkeyface, the apeman with whom they had had the displeasure of entertaining themselves until a few minutes ago, dribbled his teeth with particular satisfaction. As one of the main supporters of the surrender faction, he seemed particularly ready to retort to what he surely considered foolish positions.

    Kista smiled. "I have only listened very carefully to what you have said so far. Many positions I agree with. Why continue a hopeless war, throwing away thousands of lives when we can simply bow our heads and resume with our business as if nothing had happened?" Then, to the amazement of many, she stood up, raising the tone of her voice. "Yes, that would indeed be the most sensible choice! But I ask you, without anger or rancor, is this what we want for the future of our people? For the future of our children and grandchildren? Peace, a beautiful word. So beautiful that it manages to enchant and beguile even the wittiest minds with its many meanings."

    "What do you mean?" A voice rose from the underlying chorus that had been forming. Antilene recognised it as that of swine-face.

    Kista did not flinch, expecting that question. She had rehearsed that speech so many times that she now seemed almost disappointed that it was proceeding as she had planned. "The Equestrian King seduces us with a false peace, and we are displaying the chastity of a lowly prostitute. For his intent is certainly not to stop at our lands. What he aims at is the building of an Empire that stretches from the lands of men in the west to the great nations of elves and dwarves in the east. An Empire upon which the sun will never set. And what part shall we play in all this, you may ask?" She took a deep breath, gauging the reaction of her peers. Widespread and continuous murmurs still did not let what she was saying go unheard. "That of fodder for his conquests. If not us, it will be our descendants and the descendants of our descendants who will be sacrificed. You have listened to the voices of the emissaries, what they ask is that we give up our independence, that which defines us most of all, so that before we can even realize it, we will be totally at their mercy. A life of slavery."

    The murmuring grew even louder. Those who agreed, a few, and those who disagreed, many, exchanged not too veiled insults and raised voices in a maelstrom of opinions that clashed and repelled with indecent chaos.

    Antilene remained silent, partly amused, partly disappointed by that stupid display of discord. Agravaine seemed to be of the same opinion, shaking her head to show her displeasure.

    "I beg you all to be quiet." With a roar so mighty that it gave the impression it had thundered indoors, the speaker managed, not without difficulty, to restore order. "Lady Cabelia, I cannot say that I disagree with what you have stated. Yet, and I believe this is the opinion of many here, there are not many alternatives. You rightly spoke of a life of slavery. But would it not be better to submit with the hope, one day, of being able to raise our heads once again?"

    And avoiding being completely destroyed, was the implication.

    Kista cleared her throat. "No, for at the moment we have the only chance to repel their assault. Please give me the opportunity to prove it to you." With a wave of her hand, she gave the order to the guards presiding over the hall door to open it.

    It was not long before Hatoi and Grape entered the hall, each of them carrying a chest with them. With their arrival, a stunned silence intruded the room, leaving the representatives speechless. But it was not thanks to the two guards that the reaction that no one could have predicted came true. For it was he who, chained and with his head down, followed them that provoked such a strong response.

    "Lady Cabelia, he is..." The speaker tried to say something, but the consternation was too strong. So was everyone else present. Antilene laughed with satisfaction, in a small personal celebration of her work. The Queen of Ris seemed to share her good humor, the only one of those rulers to exchange a few sounds of amusement with her personal guard.

    Both the half-elf and Kista stood up, to approach the prisoner. "As you can see," the mayoress began, pointing to the chained bariaur who continued to remain almost impassive. "He who carried the threats of his lord has received the just reward for his services." If that was his gallows, he seemed to have accepted it, albeit grudgingly. Tiribazus had been completely shorn from head to toe and now, humiliated and begging, did not even dare utter a word. "Let me show you what happens to those who threaten us without any qualms."

    Grape opened one of the chests, showing incredibly valuable wool, which left everyone speechless. "A small gift for you. Being able to use the wool of one of the satraps to weave luxurious clothes, isn''t that extraordinary? Lord Kostas, why don''t you take some? I''m sure the most prestigious customers in your city will be delighted to buy something so exclusive."

    The apeman, who undoubtedly wanted to have Kista in his hands to tear her apart, merely asked the question everyone was wondering. "Are you aware of what you have done?" Words addressed to Kista, but gaze pointed towards Antilene. "Now that this affront has been consummated, there will be no more hope for us. Soon, the hordes of the Immortals will be upon us. General Arsames will be the first to want our heads."

    "Speaking of which," Antilene stepped forward, giving Hatoi a sign to open the second chest. If astonishment had skyrocketed before, now dismay had reached new heights.

    "That''s..." Mirina, who had remained diligently silent until that moment, let out a squeak of bewilderment. "Arsames!"

    Her reaction was followed by those of the others. Antilene had expected to feel a natural satisfaction at that moment in displaying her work, but had to realize, with bitterness, that what she was given in return did not live up to expectations.

    And indeed, what was manifested in those representatives was an arc of emotions that were certainly not difficult to interpret.

    Shock? Predictable. Fear? Not unexpected. Anger? The opposite would have been strange.

    But all of them paled when confronted with that feeling, unaware even to its new bearers, was making its way like the most ardent and irresistible of desires.

    Greed.

    For those who had known only the hunger of defeat, now that what was being brought to the table was the sweet taste of vengeance, the nectar of which brought even the holiest of ascetics to compulsive salivation, a new sensation opened up to their palates.

    Even if given another name, the beasts still remained beasts. What was in their nature could not be changed. That they had continued to trawl for her scraps, then.

    Those who had stood for ideals of peace and prosperity now faltered. The possibility, as yet unconscionable, of coming over to the side of the victors and righting the wrongs they had suffered was far more alluring than silly trifles like these.

    "Are you sure it is the infamous Immortal?" Swine-faced gleamed with gloom and awe. A fascinating and instructive spectacle.

    Antilene shook the captive satrap. "No doubt about it," he replied. The hushed, fearful voice must have caused no small amount of dissonance to those who not many days before had had to bow their heads in deference to the mighty and splendid bariaur. "With these eyes of mine I saw Arsames being torn to pieces." As instructed, Tiribazus avoided mentioning that it was the Elf Queen who had performed that feat. A secret not too well hidden but one that Antilene cared to preserve. "Indeed. These eyes of mine couldn''t see anything at all. I see you all and ask myself: ''Am I perhaps in a dream?'' A few days ago you looked at me as one looks at a savior, just because I had offered you a gold-studded collar. And now... Is this a nightmare?" He tried to scratch his completely shaven face, noticing that the chains prevented him from even that simple gesture. "Then why don''t I wake up? Why do my senses beg me to flee? Why do my legs not move? Fools! All of you are fools! You opened the gates of the Underworld, but what did you find inside? I would laugh at your stupidity, weep at the misery you have unleashed. But what good would that do?"

    And at that moment the hall exploded, the silence that had served as herald of the arrival of chaos finally ceased. Just like the most glorious of battles, like the bloodiest of clashes, the positions broke like tsunamis on the rocks, hurling insults and obscenities, showing the worst that lurked in the depths of everyone.

    Antilene had given them what they desired. The Union could finally begin to free itself from the oppressor''s yoke. She had protected the weak, showing the strong the injustice of Divine Law.

    The half-elf looked at her sister, who stood on the sidelines in the stands, watching, just as she did, with little wonder and great astonishment, wondering if, after all, this was what she wanted. What she had always wanted.

    "Silence!" Antilene did not need to raise her voice, or make any gesture to draw the representatives'' attention. They all turned in amazement towards what was, after all, only a stranger. "You are now at a crossroads!" She yanked on Tiribazus'' chain, causing him to trudge across the floor. "This is the fate that will await you if you decide to surrender."

    "That''s because you brought us to this!" Accused Monkeyface, spitting vulgarly. "The negotiations would have been successful, had you not interfered with this dastardly act. I will have you both condemned," and he also pointed at Kista, "do you hear me, Lady Cabelia? To take military action alone, at such a sensitive time as this? Capital punishment, at the very least. And that idiot grandfather of yours will suffer the same end as you."

    Kista did not flinch, remaining unexpectedly calm. "My grandfather would have replied that until an official treaty is signed, each city in the Union retains its own independence. And that also means the decision of how to conduct warlike operations. Need I remind you that the common army, since only a typical custom, has no binding effect according to the Mother Law?" Then, approaching the satrap, she asked all those who had started railing against her. "Shall I inquire of Lord Tiribazus to confess the names of all those who accepted his ''offers'', Magistrate Kostas? If I am to be hanged for treason, at least I will be comforted in knowing that I will not go to the gallows alone."

    That was enough to silence them. Monkey Face, though still fuming, stopped protesting. And with him all those who had accused Kista of treason.

    Nevertheless, Antilene knew that they had failed to get everyone on their side. Threats worked up to a certain point.

    "Lady Cabelia," Lion Face intervened, visibly concerned. "We will speak later about your initiative. The fact remains that you must accept that this demonstration has done nothing but exacerbate tempers. Reaching a common agreement now will be even more difficult."

    "If Bebard has to fight alone, it will. Don''t think we will share the spoils of victory, though." Kista cast a dubious glance at Antilene, as if that exchange would offer her security and comfort. "Bebard is sure to repel the invaders. It is up to you whether you follow us to glory, or stay and trudge through the mud."

    "Ohoho," the laugh of the Queen of Ris rang out like Sunday morning bells. "You are quite sure of yourself, Lady Cabelia." If only her attention had been turned towards Kista as she demanded. Antilene felt revulsion at being inspected by those small, malevolent eyes. For a moment, the half-elf entertained the idea of decapitating the old woman on the spot, to hell with the ceremonies. "Being able to eliminate an Immortal, and capture one of the satraps. Truly magnificent! But that alone won''t be enough to defeat the Equestrian King, I''m afraid. It would take something more... something to convince all the cities that make up the Union to take up arms once more. Something impossible and insane."

    "I think there''s been a misunderstanding," Antilene interjected, not even dignifying her with a glance. In fact, the half-elf was focused on the one remaining empty post. "This had only been a small appetizer, before the main course. Time was scarce, and we had to work with what we had. I apologize if the ingredients," she kicked Tiribazus as he was starting to rise, "were not first-rate. But what is to come will fill the stomach of even the worst of gluttons."

    "And what do you plan to cook for us?"

    There was only one suitable way to satisfy their appetites. "Karnassus. The city will be liberated and become part of the Union again." Whereas she had their curiosity before, she for sure had their attention now. "At that point, I''m sure even the skeptics will reconsider." Judging by their reaction, some already were in the process of doing so.

    Good, Antilene would show them a New World.

    The Queen of Ris laughed. A tremendously dry, guttural laugh, similar to the sound some people made before they died. "Ris approves of your proposal, and is ready to offer its help. Yes, we will take back all that is ours." With interest, but was there really a need to add that?

    "Then, if there are no objections, this council is adjourned until a later date." No one dared show the slightest remonstrance. Lion Face, more than anyone, showed concern. In indignation, however, the absolute champion was Monkey Face. "Undoubtedly, the event that will carry the message from the next meeting will be the fall of one of our cities. Karnassus... or Bebard."

    "You have nothing to worry about," said Antilene with confidence. "Next time, we can all meet in the hall of the palace of Karnassus. I advise you not to unpack too soon, for there will not be long to wait."

 Chapter 42: Only Gods judge

    Chapter 42

    Only Gods judge

    Ris, Cities State Alliance

    Impressing Antilene was difficult.

    How could one even manage to challenge the look of wonder that had graced her eyes when she had first entered the Sanctuary of the Gods? In a constantly changing world, a mundane life punctuated by a nauseating certainty could, and indeed it did, lose its appeal.

    In her eyes of a mere child, wonder had that extraordinary power to infiltrate a deep, buried, and at the same time unconscious, part of her, which attached itself to and defined the contours of a still growing soul.

    It was only when she had first set foot outside, when she had been able to sample what for mere mortals were the bars of a prison known as daily life, that the half-elf had begun to realize, at first almost by chance, a barely fleeting thought, then with increasing intensity, like an orchestra taking its time before gearing up, how painfully mediocre was the life that even the best had to live with.

    How saddening.

    The same mediocrity that had once been the object of her desires was now revealed in all its cruel ruthlessness.

    Once awakened, after all, the dream was easily forgotten. A feeble string attached to a skein of indistinct memories, which were getting fainter and fainter with each passing day.

    "Lady Fouche, please try not to anger the Queen of Ris. Maintaining good relations is beneficial for our purposes." An imploring voice. Kista bowed before that throne room so bare, so ordinary as to be almost an affront, while Antilene remained still, arms crossed, her stern gaze fixed on the one who had hosted them.

    Bare and full of decorations of fine gold and splendid silver. Was this the best the others could aspire to? In the holy shrine of the Theocracy, precious metals were just another accessory, almost superfluous. There was no need for such trifles to express the immeasurable power and bottomless piety of the Gods.

    Where there was ostentation of wealth and supremacy, Antilene scrutinized an ostentatiously dazzling light, capable of enchanting only an ephemeral whose sealed fate was to be incinerated by that falsehood.

    "I am sure Queen Fouche does not intend to disrespect me." Was not the Queen of Ris disrespecting Antilene by showing her a mouth full of teeth rotten to the root and a skin that was a constant reminder of her blasphemy? "When interests align, the beliefs we had cultivated for so long begin to waver." The hag sat on that throne of empty boasts and finely crafted wood, engraved with magical symbols that were carefully analyzed by the half-elf. "And our interests align, do they not?"

    Antilene could have killed her on the spot. She could have eliminated every single non-human from the Union. Then head for the Great Plains and repeat her actions with equal ease.

    Yes, she could have done that.

    But why?

    Instead, she sighed, remembering the teachings of entire generations of Cardinals. A wisdom that, like the purest and clearest of springs, drew its brilliance from various places and mindsets.

    A display of pure strength in broad daylight was just another way, perhaps the daftest, to attract unwanted attention and enemies.

    "You are absolutely right. Even I alone could not get rid of all our enemies." Learning to exercise control over herself had been one of Rufus''s earliest teachings, but only now could she truly understand what it meant. Practical application always won out over mere theory in the end. The desire to astonish with only seeming arrogance was strong, but that desire yielded when confronted with the new responsibilities that were disruptively advancing, unfortunately far more overwhelming. "I am therefore ready to ask for your help and that of all other non-humans who are ready to offer it. In return, I ask nothing but your... discretion. Entrust the credit for my deeds to someone more suitable."

    And her gaze settled on Mirina, who flanked the Queen of Ris with impeccable pose. But Antilene''s eyes did not miss the almost imperceptible tremor that ran through the knight''s fully armored body. Whether it was caused by a natural spasm or unwarranted terror, the half-elf could not know.

    "On this there should be no problem. Although I must still warn you that information control is never a perfect practice. Unintended errors are always to be taken into account." To expect a level of preparation like that of the Theocracy would have been foolish, but it was always disappointing to see what the level of the outside world was. Even the red of the roses was less red, and the blue of the sky was not quite so intense. "In any case, I''m really glad you decided to accept my help. Three other cities have given us their support and are ready to act immediately for the liberation of Karnasus."

    "Really?" Kista''s face beamed with happiness. Unexpected news always had that kind of effect. "And how many troops are we talking about? Bebard cannot provide more than five hundred soldiers at the moment. And that is already an immeasurable strain on our resources."

    Antilene couldn''t help but wonder how many troops the Kingdom of Evasha could have fielded if she had ordered it. The half-elf had never thought about it until that moment, but regarding armies deployment her knowledge was indeed lacking, to use a generous term. She glanced at Agravaine, always present at her side, though not always standing out, intent on mulling over those numbers.

    "They will be enough. Indeed, putting yourselves on the line is indeed a precious gift," consoled the Queen of Ris, with a disgustingly maternal manner. "I don''t think the other cities can provide a higher number. In fact, I believe that if we combined all our armies, the total amount would not even exceed a thousand." A thousand more than Antilene would have hoped for and a thousand more than she would have expected. "Besides, my dear Lady Fouche," the hag''s eyes narrowed, so small but at the same time with the intensity of tiny black holes, as her tongue licked tiny drops of saliva from her dry, putrid lips. "I have arranged a couple of presents just for you, as a token of friendship. I can''t wait to show them to you."

    A servant, whose work outfit was decently kept in a figure covered in scales, passed by offering coloured sparkling wine. Antilene took a glass, the bubbles slowly bursting in the liquid produced a barely perceptible noise. "I''m really curious to see what you have prepared just for us." The half-elf sipped, slightly grossed out by the taste, but pretending that it had not bothered her at all. Even though almost natural was the reaction of contentment she showed. "And, I really need not say, immensely grateful for the great respect and esteem with which you greet me."

    A smile followed by unnecessary words, if it was true that the face alone could convey what one was thinking, the Queen of Ris went further, articulating the muscles of her face in speech without uncertainty. "I share the same feelings that I feel are being expressed by you, Lady Fouche." Her hands filled with calluses, more than as many drops of water as a mountain spring contained, clutched with delicate strength the staff that could have been called an additional limb of her body. "I''m not in the habit of getting lost in unnecessary ceremonies, so how about we go straight to our plans? It does no good for a group of young maidens like us to be left weaving plots in the shadows."

    "Too generous, Queen Kirke." Kista stood up, casting a sidelong glance at Mirina, who returned it with equal fervor. "Where do you intend to lead us, if I may ask?"

    The old hag moved with extraordinary slowness, almost as if merely moving her muscles caused unspeakable pain in every fiber of her being. An act so perfect that it fooled everyone, except for Antilene, who raised an eyebrow almost as if to say ''really?'' "Let''s take a few steps. These old bones need to stretch once in a while."

    Although a couple of servants tried to help her, the Queen readily turned away from them, as if she found the very idea of leaning on someone else inconceivable. It was difficult to determine whether it was part of the act or a certain dignity that had never been quenched. "This palace may not compare to the splendor of the Theocracy, but I have always found comfort in wandering its corridors. I hope the same applies to you, Lady Fouche."

    "I am sure it will," Antilene replied, already setting off. Through the tinted windows, the first rays of sunset were peeking out, filtering through the colorful panes, reflecting like a rainbow of various reddish hues. "Have you been to the Theocracy? Forgive my curiosity, but I find it hard to imagine. I do not believe... that a possible stay of yours would have been pleasant in my old home."

    "I was not always as I appear now¡­" And, for a moment, but only for a moment, Antilene glimpsed a... something in the old woman''s face. Regret? It was an emotion that the half-elf was struggling to define but which, unexpectedly, seemed vaguely familiar. "Your homeland is a jewel of rare beauty, there is no doubt about that. A finely cut and wrought diamond, shining with so much light that our great palaces, our squares, our riches seem but worthless stones. And yet¡­" Self-loathing. That''s what it was. If the Queen''s mind was a labyrinth, that feeling was the treasure hidden within it. "This only makes your darkness stand out even more. Those who determine to be outside the cycle of the world will have to pay a higher price when the wheel of time ends its turn."

    Antilene clutched her shoulders, not giving those insinuations more weight than they deserved. "I have already accepted the idea of living in darkness forever, it''s no big deal. And as for the Theocracy, that''s no longer my concern. I have already left behind everything I had cherished there." It was the first time the half-elf had said it out loud, and it was harder than she had ever imagined. It was not as... liberating as she would have expected, but not unpleasant either.

    Perhaps it was also because it was the first time Antilene had stopped for a moment to reflect on what she was doing. Never before had been time for that, given the speed with which events had unfolded. "Don''t get me wrong. I have loved and still love the Theocracy. But sometimes we have to get away from what we love too much to be truly happy." Or, more likely, she had preferred to avoid pondering excessively about it.

    Did Antilene believe that by pretending nothing was happening, she would never have to find herself regretting her choices? Was changing oneself just an illusion dictated by vain arrogance?

    A foolish thought.

    The regrets of the past and the expectations of the future lost their meaning in the present.

    "What we call home can sometimes be a prison," Agravaine interjected unexpectedly, clasping a hand on her sister''s shoulders. At the touch, Antilene felt an unwelcome chill. "The important thing is to be able to gain your freedom, no matter how long you have to fight for it. I do not wish to sound conceited, but it seems to me that this is one of the ideals on which your nation was founded. Only by remaining free can you build a future with your own hands that you can be proud of."

    ''Free, eh?'' For Antilene, who had assumed the role of loyal servant all her life, the lack of orders seemed almost suffocating, not liberating. The smell of the open air tasted poisonous. The boundless space of the world felt smaller than her room. ''But what to do with so much freedom, if there is no purpose to guide it?''

    "It is indeed what we are fighting for," Kista added, receiving a nod of head in approval from Mirina. "To be able to forge one''s own destiny. Nothing could be traded for this great gift. Of course, ideals like this give way when confronted with reasons of state. Nevertheless, if I were forced to serve those who wish to oppress us, or die fighting against them, I would not hesitate to choose the latter. One, two, five, ten, infinite times. Even if the result would never change."

    "Right. Absolutely correct." The Queen hinted at a laugh, but did not have time to finish it, that she began to cough, so violently that Mirina had to move closer in order to support her. "It''s all right, dear." A rather awkward attempt at reassurance.

    "Are you sure?" Mirina''s impassive face creaked, showing more than a hint of concern. Antilene noted that there were at least two people who could elicit that reaction from the knight covered entirely in black. And, funnily enough, they were in the same room now. "It would be no trouble to help you walk to the training room. Just a way to repay you for all you have done for me."

    They were crossing a long corridor, and the banners of the city of Ris waved gently around them in harmonic movement. The Queen paused for a moment, feeling the fabric between her fingers, murmuring in a low voice, but with enough pitch that everyone could hear her. "You don''t have to worry about me. I still have many things to accomplish before I leave this world¡­ Yes¡­ There are still many things¡­" On the banners, entirely covered in white, stood images of flowers whose shades of vivid blue wobbled in the air, in a motion of innate sadness.

    "It is very beautiful," commented Kista, looking at the design. Antilene was also surprised to find that, although the overall pattern was far from remarkable, it was definitely pleasing to the eye. The simple style gave it an almost warm and familiar touch, reminiscent of a design first made by a carefree child and then faithfully reproduced by a more experienced hand, in accordance with the original artist''s vision. "What is this all about? It is not a flower known to me."

    "Some call it cornflower, others centaurea cyanus," the old woman explained, with a veiled smile. Her eyes narrowed in the same way that foretold tears, but no liquid came out of them. It was possible that it was not a matter of want, but of can. "It comes from a faraway place, whose exact origin has been lost. A trifle¡­ Nothing important. It represents a promise. A promise that can never be fulfilled." A pause. "Doesn''t a wish cultivated too long become a curse?"

    "You like to speak in riddles," the half-elf replied, struggling to sustain her gaze. Not because of any particular awe it provoked, nor because of any terror it aroused. On the contrary, it would have been more correct to call it timid and tame, like that of a beast that had lost all will to fight. But what Antilene saw in it was an emotion she knew all too well and which, for that very reason, made it difficult for her to confront... "It is also the first time for me to hear of such a flower. I would like to know more about it."

    "I don''t want to waste your time with the ravings of an old fool, Lady Fouche. It is a story like many others, which began with a simple, carefree love, and ended in the least interesting way possible. So many books have been written following this plot, and many more narrations will follow this pattern." The Queen had resumed her impassive tone, and had once more donned that mask filled with feigned emotions. "But I don''t think I need to explain it to you since, as far as I can see, you too are attached to a certain silly sentimentality like me."

    And she pointed to the blue rose proudly placed on the chest of the half-elf, Nazaire''s latest gift, which never left the proximity of her heart.

    "Perhaps we are not as dissimilar as we think," she continued, outlining a sardonic expression. "An impossible dream, isn''t that what that rose represents?"

    "No," Antilene replied with conviction, stroking the fabric of the reproduction, letting a strange, but not entirely unpleasant, melancholy pervade her. "It is a wish already realized. And, unlike you, I have not given up on making it a reality."

    Yes.

    It was not a mere illusion. Even if the past was painful, facing it with conviction was more than a duty. It was a promise. And, as such, it was her obligation to honor it. Antilene considered it more precious than her own life.

    "I understand." A satisfied grin. Queen Kirke was a more understanding woman than it was possible to imagine. "In the end, our past is what defines us. So little control do we have over it, but so great is the impact it exerts on us, that it remains almost impossible to understand ourselves without first confronting it." She resumed walking, the beaten stone floor echoing with soft muffled sounds at the clash of her cane with the ground.

    "Don''t put much stock in what the Queen said, Lady Fouche," Mirina murmured under her breath. More to keep up unnecessary appearances, since it was evident that the old hag could hear just fine. "I''m not very knowledgeable, but I think the story of the Ris''s emblem has something to do with the tale of the Dark Knight."

    "The famous dark hero of the thirteen?" Antilene asked, her curiosity piqued. "I didn''t know his legend had come all the way here." Of all of them, that of the Dark Knight was by far the heroic figure most shrouded in mystery. Numerous were the legends told about him, many of them certainly exaggerated to the far-fetched, but their reliability was, in the half-elf''s opinion, highly questionable.

    As if some half-demon could really be a great hero acclaimed by all. Ridiculous.

    "The Union boasts many connections to the Dark Knight," Kista interjected, unleashing her immense cultural background, honed over years of diplomacy. Nothing made someone satisfied like the knowledge flaunted by foreigners about their homeland. It was almost as if the exploits of the greats of the past were reflected on the descendants of the present, no matter how mediocre the latter were. "Indeed, many cities even proclaim the birthright of the Dark Knight. And Ris is one of them, if I remember correctly. But you Mirina, you should know far more than me. Is it not your family that boasts a direct connection to the famous hero?"

    The female knight squinted her eyes, her long raven hair began to dance in the air, as if that unexpected comment might have disturbed her entire essence. "Nono... these are just silly rumors spread by some members of my family. Although I must admit that my father was firmly convinced it was true," Mirina scratched her cheek, which had turned as red as a tomato from embarrassment. Despite being imposing and exuding self-confidence, there was a certain gentleness and simplicity about her - was that the right way to put it? - that made it easy to arouse a desire for protection. "Ever since I was a child, I was raised as if it was my destiny to follow in the footsteps of our ''illustrious forefather''. Not that I ever minded, to be completely honest."

    "Besides," Kista added, with a certain readiness. This wasn''t the first time the two of them had had such a conversation, was it? "The sword you carry, Crocdabal, is one of the four legendary blades said to have belonged to the Dark Knight. The Blade of Rot, bearer of thousands of curses!"

    "Are there really that many?" Agravaine focused on the great sword Mirina had attached to her side, stored in a dark, colorless scabbard. Although the tip could not be seen, the hilt was decorated with strange symbols, which Antilene traced back to some she had seen in the sacred texts of the Theocracy. "Isn''t it dangerous to carry something so deadly all the time? Oops, forgive my impertinence." The elf withdrew, realizing she had come too close. "I am not a warrior, and I struggle to understand the attachment to weapons that many of you consider almost sacred."

    In fact, if what Kista said was true, that sword should have emitted so much negative energy as to be nauseating. Although she had no special powers of perception regarding negative energy, Antilene''s instincts should have been sufficient to at least get an idea of the danger of that blade. So either Mirina exercised such deft control as to suppress any malign intent, frankly unlikely, or the rumors were far exaggerated.

    As proof of what the half-elf was thinking, the knight wrinkled her nose, perhaps out of embarrassment, hiding her weapon even further between the folds of the cerulean cloak that accompanied her armor. "Kista... Lady Cabelia exaggerates far too much. In truth, the curses with which Crocdabal is endowed are certainly not a vast number. Not even close."

    "Really? A great pity." Exclaimed the elf, unexpectedly disappointed. Curiosity was a good thing, but sometimes it would have been better not to overdo it.

    "Nevertheless, I am sure your skills with the sword are indeed exceptional, it is evident from Lady Cabelia''s confidence in you. And if your family is the custodian of such a valuable heirloom, it is certainly not impossible that there is a kernel of truth in your proclamations!"

    "I wouldn''t put my finger on it," Mirina said, with an unexpected lack of disappointment. "I mean, the chances of the Dark Knight leaving heirs are slim." In fact, one could have said that that notion comforted her. Tracing a fabulous lineage with such historical figures could be both a blessing and a burden.

    "What do you mean?" Antilene did not receive an answer from her, as it was Kista who spoke first.

    "Sterile." At that word, the Queen of Ris, who had been almost devoid of any reaction up until that moment, grew gloomy. "Some say it was caused by his half-demon nature, others by a pact made with the Demon King, and many believe it was just an absurd coincidence, but the fact remains that many traditions agree in attributing this trait to him." Then Kista threw a smirk in the direction of her beloved. "Of course, there are also others who reject these beliefs."

    Sterility. A eunuch''s fate. Curing it was not impossible, as far as Antilene remembered, but it required fifth tier magic at least. Surely, the thirteen heroes could rely on a comparable spell. That was, of course, if it wasn''t a more damaging curse than normal.

    ''Family.'' Antilene thought, patting her belly. What would she have thought if such a fate had befallen her? Would it have been easy to accept it, or would it have brought more despair than she wanted to admit?

    Once again, the half-elf found herself assessing her role before that as a woman, before that as a human being, as a descendant of the Gods. A role that had been rejected by her, indeed almost denied, but which, indifferent to what she wanted, crept into her every action and consideration.

    Her reflections must have overflowed from her face as the Queen of Ris approached her, uttering, "I understand what is troubling you." The rotten teeth broke into a smile for once sincere, devoid of mockery. "Everything has a price. The Dark Knight paid his, for he, of all people, was unable to bear the pain that accompanies us all, sooner or later. That of loss. Whether he regretted his decision, no one knows." But, it was evident that, more than anyone else, it was the old hag who sought the answer to that question.

    By now they had been walking for a few minutes, the light streaming in through the windows blindingly. It was fascinating how the structure of the building reflected the mood of its master. Filtered lighting, not at all genuine, and a vast assortment of corridors that might have given the idea of a complex labyrinth, but only revealed themselves as an overly simplistic jumble put together almost as best they could.

    Eventually, they came to a wooden pavilion connected to the right wing of the structure, inside which was a small elliptical arena, but not without equipment, potions and, above all, soldiers intent on a training session, judging by the stench of sweat.

    "Here we are," Mirina looked out from one of the bleachers on which the whole scene could be seen. "The commander is waiting for you, Lady Fouche."

    Directing those soldiers was an imposing demi-human, whose taurine face and gigantic horns sprouting from the sides of his head left no doubt as to the race to which he belonged. After noticing his new guests, he huffed annoyedly, rattling the large metal ring he wore at his nostrils, and began to approach. His body was completely encased in heavy silver armor, and a sharp ax was struggling to stay hidden behind his back.

    "That''s the former champion!" Kista exclaimed, recognising him. "So this was where he was hiding after all this time? I thought the armies of the Equestrian King had long since disposed of him."

    "Unfortunately for them, it is not so easy to get rid of me," replied the minotaur, lowering his torso ninety degrees in an unexpected sign of respect for the mayoress of Bebard. "Lady Cabelia, it is a great pleasure to meet you again, albeit under circumstances not entirely pleasant."

    To the surprise of Antilene, who would have expected anything but such outspoken reverence for a human, let alone a non-combatant as Kista, the demi-human turned a curve of his lips that, if it could not be called a smile, was far from unfriendly.

    "Sir Niles, it makes me immensely glad to see you looking so well." Not pupils, but small stars now decorated Kista''s face. "I still remember your clash during the Connelier final, at the time you put on an unforgettable show of strength and skill." The woman had already left with her mind to a time long past. At the mere sight of the minotaur her expression had softened. "Knowing that you are on our side only makes me even more confident in our situation."

    "Yours are words filled with confidence." He snorted again through his nose, in an almost mechanical gesture. "I just have to hope that I live up to your expectations. This land has been very generous to a foreigner like me, and the only thing I can do to repay you is to fight to the end in the name of my¡­ our freedom." Then, turning towards the Queen, he continued. "Had it not been for Queen Kirke by now I would have ended up in one of the mass graves where the centaurs throw all those who are deemed inimical to them, conforming to your expectations."

    Feeling called upon, the old woman hastened to speak. "I merely gave hospitality to a talent I deemed worthy of preservation. I did nothing that anyone else in my position would not have done." Old fox. She sure knew how to make herself loved. Antilene had to begrudgingly give her that win.

    "And for that I am immensely grateful," the minotaur''s eyes, so large they could have held small constellations, shone a dull yellow. "As are all my other companions whom you have saved from an inauspicious fate."

    It was then that Antilene realized that of all those present, there was not a single repeating race. It had to be said that the Queen had assembled quite a motley crew. There was even a human among them, though he remained in the background alone, along with a couple of¡­ elves?

    But if for the half-elf those faces did not stand out among all those she had observed in her brief stay in the Union, the same could not be said for the mayoress of Bebard who gradually began to recognise all those present, in the grip of an almost childlike excitement.

    "Fast Foot, champion of the running competition. The Sky Tip, gold medal in the javelin throw. The Hammer Anvil... Incredible! All the great champions of past competitions are gathered here." Antilene was aware that sports competitions in the Union were big things, and she also knew that Kista was passionate about this kind of -from her point of view- silly games. Yet the fervor gushing from the woman couldn''t help but leave both her and her sister stunned.

    Of course, unlike her, Agravaine showed much more curiosity and interest in the, at least as far as the mayoress of Bebard was concerned, extraordinary athletic abilities of that group, which at first glance gave the impression of a jumble of personalities that had little to do with each other, rather than a nest of superlative talents.

    "Are they really that exceptional?" No matter how much she tried to mull it over, the half-elf was not at all amazed. Perhaps she should have lowered her expectations; pride was treacherous and always ready to tread on mistakes. And, after all, if the Queen of Ris trusted those demi-humans so much, there had to be some reason.

    The old hag certainly had not won her trust, but Antilene had to grudgingly admit that she did not lack good discernment qualities.

    Had she not realized how special the half-elf was, after all?

    ''Nothing to do, I feel like throwing up.''

    "Who are you?" If the minotaur was offended by Antilene''s all-too-innocent question, he was a master at not showing it. "I traveled a long way before arriving in these lands, and I can assure you that very few can boast the skills of my team. It is not vainglory of mine," was he puffing out his chest to intimidate her? Delightfully adorable. "Just the plain and simple truth." If he had gone on all fours maybe she would have accepted him as a pet.

    Nevertheless, the half-elf unleashed her friendliest smile - which, strangely enough, almost seemed to have the opposite effect. Perhaps the demi-humans thought it rude? For there was no other explanation for the nauseated expressions with which they had welcomed it - before introducing herself. "Antilene Heran Fouche, Queen of Evasha." That title still sounded strange to her ears, and probably always would. Not much that could be done. "Pleased to make your acquaintance?" She considered whether she should bow. Impolite as it was, she decided to opt for a firm no.

    The minotaur did not seem to take it amiss. Or, at least, that was probably not the cause of his irritation. "An elf for sure... peculiar. You are fortunate that I am a follower of the Sage through and through and, as such, I am always ready to accept differences of... shall we say politeness." And he offered his hand, so incredibly hairy. Perhaps full of other little animals walking on it, invisible to the eyes.

    Antilene reciprocated, the difference in size between the two limbs was such that they could have mistaken that greeting as childish play between an adult and a child. With the half elf playing the part of the child, to her immense displeasure. True enough, if his new furry friend had intended to play, he could have chosen a less embarrassing way to do it. Embarrassing for him, that was obvious.

    "Is everything alright?" Antilene asked, tilting her head slightly to the side, with what was the perfect definition of -pardon the vulgarity- a fuckface. As soon as they had brushed against each other, the minotaura had begun, perhaps to test her strength, perhaps to teach a lesson to the one whom he had considered an arrogant jerk, to squeeze with force, at first lightly, a small taste, then with ever-increasing impetus, a rather lacking main course.

    The half-elf, who in spite of all her good will certainly did not intend to stay and be battered -her generosity did not even remotely reach those levels- hardened the bones of her fingers. Perhaps hardening was not the right term. She merely held her hand steady as demihuman''s grip tightened around it and his muscles invigorated.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    The minotaur''s face went from a determined expression to a frown in a blink, then the effort was such that maintaining an impassive expression was clearly impossible for him.

    Antilene knew there was no need to continue with that charade, but the temptation was irresistible. Like when a small pimple popped up on the face, and Nazaire warned against touching it.

    ''Don''t try to squeeze it was asking too much. I mean, how could you do otherwise?''

    Eventually, however, she detached her hand indifferently, pretending that nothing had happened. Sir Niles, who also must not have found the experience particularly pleasurable, merely muttered defeatedly: "Only once before had I experienced something like that. But no, it was just an impression," he repeated to himself. "The sage''s offspring? But she is only an elf¡­" He gave her a second look, this time with an intensity that could be deciphered all too easily.

    In any case, the introductions had been made, all too well the half-elf would have added.

    "Lady Fouche stands out in an almost unnatural way, don''t you think, Sir Niles?" The Queen of Ris shrugged a lock of hair, white as a specter, with amusement. "Is it not comforting to know that she is on our side?"

    "Definitely." That could not have been called a very truthful answer. "The humanoids of this region are definitely different from what I''m used to. If many of my childhood friends could have a chance to see this place, they would be horrified."

    Antilene had no difficulty believing this. The Minotaur kingdom, as far as she remembered, had a certain way of handling relations between different races. Certain it was that she would not put a pair of chains on her arms just to make a non-human at ease.

    "Is that not the pleasure of great journeys? Seeing our beliefs continually challenged, and gaining knowledge we previously didn''t even imagine could exist. I think the Great Sage professed something akin like this." The Queen said softly, causing the half-elf to feel nauseous. "Speaking of which, did I not promise you a surprise, Lady Fouche? Let me introduce you."

    And with unexpected swiftness, the hag called out to the human whom Antilene had earlier noticed was standing aside. The latter approached, with a confident and determined gait, followed by three female elves who moved in a completely opposite manner, staggering and keeping their heads down. The women''s clothes were tattered, leaving exposed parts of their bodies that left little to the imagination.

    Agravaine watched them, her fury growing with every step. Mirina and Kista hinted disapproval, more than they probably could have expressed. Sir Niles and his demi-humans, on the other hand, were completely indifferent, most of them already about to resume their training.

    Antilene would have normally fallen in the latter group. In reality, her attention was focused for all intents and purposes on the young man, who was advancing with the ostentation that only an outsized arrogance could give, displaying the long silver sword he was carrying, the blade of which had the same sheen as a full moon. Long combed blond hair swayed to the rhythm of his gait. Small, piercing, night-coloured eyes were entirely focused on the half-elf, while a cocky smile appeared with such naturalness that it would not be absurd to venture that it was the natural expression he was born with.

    Yet none of this mattered to Antilene. In fact, it was completely irrelevant. Instead, what had caught her attention were the swordsman''s clothes, whose play of hues and shades, black as bright as night and pure white as snow, was familiar to her.

    How could it have been otherwise? The half-elf needed do no more than look in the mirror to rediscover that same taste in dress, symbol of the Theocracy included.

    Only this time the mirror was not quite normal, but reflected a distorted and exaggerated image, caricatured even. And the perpetrator of this devilish joke was now laughing out loud, greeting the newcomer with the same affection a grandmother might feel on seeing her beloved grandson again.

    "Erya, my dear, how is the training going?"

    The swordsman remained impassive, merely replying with an atonal ''fine''. An awkward silence fell for a handful of seconds, before the conversation resumed, again due to the old hag.

    "How''s that sword I gave you?"

    "Absolutely magnificent." This time there was more emphasis in the response, although the lack of respect was still perceptible. "I am immensely grateful to you, Queen Kirke."

    "I am really glad. Soon you will be able to put it to the test. Are you ready?"

    "That is all I ask. The trust placed in me will be highly rewarded."

    "I expect no less."

    "How many enemies do I have to kill?"

    "As much as you want!"

    "And my reward?"

    "Immeasurable!"

    "... Good."

    One of the elves in his retinue stumbled, causing him to turn around in annoyance. The terror that fell over the girl''s subdued face foretold a terrible answer, which, however, never came. Erya, on the other hand, unconcernedly returned his focus to Antilene.

    "So you are the elf of the Theocracy? To think that my home country held such a... trivial secret." If doubts had been minimal before, they were now supplanted by certainties. "I suppose it is appropriate to introduce oneself on occasions like this. Erya Uzruth, swordmaster and leader of team of workers Tenmu. Currently in the service of Her Majesty Queen Zea Kirke, who was magnanimous enough to offer me support after I had to... leave the area where I used to operate. Pleased to meet you."

    Antilene remained impassive. Judging by Agravaine''s reaction, which certainly did not shine for discretion, fire could have been spat out of her eyes, there was no need for two elves to lose control at the same time.

    "Isn''t something missing?"

    He looked at her with a doubtful expression, as if he wanted to ask her ''what on earth are you talking about?'' In truth, the same reaction was shared by all those who had remained to act as witnesses, not all of them willingly, to be truly honest.

    "Your baptismal name. Slaine''s protocol requires that you present yourself with your first name, your baptismal name and your last name."

    The first was a gift bestowed by the parents. As such, it represented the body, as it was only imparted at the moment of birth.

    The last was the surname of one''s family of origin. Since it was predetermined at the moment one came into the world, it represented the soul.

    The baptismal name, on the other hand, was different.

    "I have long since given up that name," the tone of his voice hardened, while retaining a certain veiled inflection of scorn.. "Such nonsense does not suit a character like mine." The Theocracy emblem he sported on his breastplate appeared even more obscene than before.

    "It is a link. A link between ourselves and our origins, between body and soul, given to us by the priests as a symbol of the will of the Gods."

    How could someone born and bred in the Theocracy abandon it? Everyone, from the humblest of shepherds to the most illustrious of Cardinals, retained and boasted that special and unique connection with higher beings. It was not just a sign of devotion. It was something more. An immeasurable proof of one''s existence and, more importantly, an act of love.

    "I have no need to believe in the gods," he brushed the sword he carried, as if he wanted to unsheathe it at any moment. "Even if such beings existed, I have long since outgrown them. And now that I have the Sword of Law with me, I doubt there is anyone who can even come close to my level."

    "...I see."

    It had always been all too easy for Antilene. Believing in the Gods was not difficult, when you yourself were proof enough of their existence. In a way, she could understand where Erya''s skepticism came from.

    Nevertheless...

    "Who are those elves that are with you?" The three had replicated a scene that was familiar to Antilene, perhaps all too much so. Remaining behind the man accompanying them the entire time, they were breathing hard as copious blood flowed from some of the wounds, avoiding uttering even a moan of pain. "Your teammates? You said you were part of a team, am I right?"

    Erya laughed, or seemed about to do so. His mouth opened, but only a distorted sound came out. "Yes, we can say that. We have to work with what we have, don''t we? Even if things haven''t gone too well lately for enlightened individuals like me." The insinuation slithered with the nefariousness of a venomous snake towards the half-elf. "Or should I say like us? Is the new Queen of Evasha an elf or a human?"

    "They are your slaves, are they not?" Agravaine approached one of the three, starting to bandage one of the wounds with some bandages. It was commendable how calmly she was dealing with this. "I thought the slave trade had been outlawed in all human nations by now."

    That was what Antilene thought too.

    "Not in the Union." Replied Kista, who had begun to look doubtfully at their host. "Or, at least, not in all cities. Like Ris, right?"

    The old Queen merely shrugged her shoulders. "We do not have a slave trade, but it is not our policy to meddle in the personal affairs of our citizens. Especially when they are as incredibly useful as Erya. It''s ever since he arrived here a few months ago that he''s been very useful in accomplishing... certain chores." The hag''s tongue, yellowish in color, moistened her lips. "Of those present, only Sir. Niles can compete with him. Though it would please me to find out who would come out on top, now that our treasure has been entrusted into such capable hands."

    An all too suspicious trust. Erya suspected nothing, or at least he didn''t give it away, but Antilene would eat a hair if there wasn''t something else underneath the Queen''s intentions.

    The minotaur encircled his arms, throwing thunderbolts with his gaze towards the compatriot of Antilene. Even a child could see that there was not even a shadow of camaraderie between the two.

    Professionalism, in any case, was demonstrated by passing over mere personal matters. Sir Niles, however, could not help but let slip a not too veiled comment. "For me, an encounter can be arranged whenever you want. Of course, I wonder if with the opponents Sir Uzruth is usually used to, his legendary sword hasn''t lost sharpness." And he hunted a grin that had little in the way of friendship.

    Erya remained calm, somewhat unusually so. He massaged his temples and then, with a decidedly nimble leg-step, stepped to the side of the Queen, halfway between Antilene and Mirina. "Delfine is a treasure that is only fit to be used in the presence of an appropriate audience," the young man drew his sword, whose honed metal reflected a particularly brilliant indigo. "I promised my benefactress that I would only use it at the moment of reckoning," he drew a couple of slashes through the air, with an exceedingly ostentatious manner that was as arrogant as it was unwarranted, "fortunately for me and for you, that moment will come soon, will it not?" The metal of the sword flexed and undulated serpentine like a gigantic, deadly python.

    The elves, who were now beginning to catch their breath, thanks in part to Agravaine''s prompt assistance, whitened again at the mere sight of the sword. Evidently, the young Theocracy swordsman''s definitions of a suitable audience and worthy opponent differed considerably from those of Antilene.

    "I look forward to fighting together, then." Said Antilene, pretending to be impressed as she continued to observe Erya. Watching him was... odd. His every word, his every action was quickly scrutinized by the half-elf, who, driven by a need that even she could not fully explain, cataloged that estrangement she was feeling in a hidden corner of her mind, of which she was not even aware. "Enemies are many, and every sword will count... I suppose."

    "Undoubtedly. I must be honest, and admit that fighting alongside a countryman again, after all this time, might be more enjoyable than I expected." The friendliness he showed, the kindness he demanded were so feigned as to make the rounds and almost prove blunt. It was not ineptitude his, it was instead such a small lack of consideration as to be shocking. In some sick definition, Erya Uzruth was one of the most honest men Antilene had ever met. "Should you need protection, do not hesitate to avail yourself of me. You or¡­" he paused to admire her sister, who compared to her rags-clad counterparts, stood out even more in her stunning light green dress. "Your lady-in-waiting?" Erya demanded, clearly unconcerned about a possible answer. The only thing he was interested in was too vulgar even to be considered worthy of consideration.

    "Her sister," Agravaine replied, wiping away the tears of one of the slaves, who had failed to stop them from falling profusely. "Do you not think you have gone too far in the way you have treated these women?"

    "Training can be hard. Don''t think I took joy in reducing them to that state, but as they will also confirm, it is essential for their survival. It is a harsh world," the young swordsman paused for a moment, testing the elf''s furious reaction, entertained, "and, frankly, how I use my property is certainly not something that would be of interest to you."

    "Damn you. I¡­"

    "Agravaine, that''s enough."

    If Antilene had not stopped her, her sister would have been capable of an overreaction. And no one wanted that. Or not?

    "Sir Uzruth, forgive my sister," the half-elf lowered her head in apology. "You are perfectly right. How you treat what is yours is none of our business."

    "The strong prevail over the weak," Erya''s expression sprouted smugness from every pore. "It is the fundamental law of all existence. If you don''t have the strength to defend what''s important... well, you don''t even have the right to complain."

    The elves looked at everyone present, begging for mercy, starting with Agravaine, passing by the indifferent looks of the demi-humans, the lowered heads in shame of Kista and Mirina, crossing the smirk of the Queen of Ris, and finally reaching the impassive face of Antilene.

    As Queen of Evasha, what would her duties have been in that situation? As an additional seat of the Black Scriptures, how was she to behave towards a man of the Theocracy who had abjured all but their most unprincipled beliefs?

    It was as if two halves were fighting for control of Antilene. The elven side, which she had always rejected, and the human side, which she had not always understood. The coexistence of the two was, in itself, a contradiction. To suppress one to let the other live, that was what she had always believed was the only way.

    "The strong always prevail over the weak." Would it not have been hypocritical to claim now to care about subjects she had never considered as such, to make up for the suffering she had caused in the first place? "It is not a philosophy I accept." But neither was it something one could fight.

    It was naive to think that through brute force alone a clash of ideals could be won. If Antilene had killed Erya on the spot, would that not have proved that he was on the side of reason?

    "So you intend to do something?" He asked.

    "...No."

    For years Antilene had protected men like Erya Uzruth. For so long, that a whole library would not have been enough to hold all the books of that long time. As bad as it made her feel, Erya was no mere anomaly, but a product of the peace she had defended for so long. Having it in front of her was as if someone had eliminated every trace of love felt for the Theocracy, ripped everything special about it, and had accentuated its flaws to the hilt, making the complexities and facets of her beloved country a dirty lie and reducing it to a buffoonish caricature.

    In a way, absurd as it was, the young swordsman was a product of what she too had helped to create.

    How, then, could she now judge him?

    There was only one suitable reaction to everything she was going through.

    "Regina Kirke, thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet a fellow countryman."

    Establishing what the old hag''s plan was behind that meeting was difficult. Whether it was a not too veiled mockery of her beliefs, or a discretionary assessment of her intentions, Antilene could not know for sure. What was certain, however, was that what the half-elf had accomplished went beyond any of her expectations. Or was that what the hag expected in the first place?

    "I am glad you appreciated it, Lady Fouche." Covered in sugar, a lie still retained its bitter taste. "Now that we have made the proper introductions, why don''t we retire to our rooms?"

    "That sounds like a splendid idea," agreed Kista. Whether her opinion had been motivated by actual fatigue or a simple desire to spend more time with Mirina was by no means too difficult to tell. "We can meet again tomorrow, to prepare a more thorough war council. If everyone agrees, of course."

    "No problem on my part," Antilene confirmed in reply. They hadn''t done much, all things considered. But the journey had begun to take its toll, and a little time for reflection would certainly not be unwelcome.

    "I will see to it that my team is ready whenever you wish, Your Majesty." Sir Niles most of all was ready to return to toil. If it had been possible, he would probably have gone to war at that very moment. "May you all have a welcome rest." He expelled more air from his nostrils, but this time with a friendly expression devoid of defiance, before returning to his duties.

    Erya remained with that calm and serene expression on his face, before taking his leave with a few words, followed by the three elves, who retained the same dejected expression they had sported from the start.

    Agravaine watched them walk away, with such frostiness that it could freeze the room.

    "Is that alright with you?" It was only when she and Antilene found themselves alone that she finally blurted out. "That piece of shit treats some of us like dirt, and you not only let him go, but show gratitude towards him?"

    They had returned to the flats that Ris''s servants had prepared especially for them. Melody and Etienne were busy preparing dinner, leaving them completely alone. Nothing was said to them about what just happened.

    "Would you have preferred I cut off their heads and set those three free on the spot, perhaps even killing the Queen while we were at it?" The half-elf thought back to the reaction of Kista, Merina and everyone else present. A spectrum of emotions that all concluded to the same result. "Their ''relationship'' is perfectly legal in these lands. I will not be the one to change that."

    Agravaine bit her lip. "You are their Queen!"

    "I did not ask to be," Antilene replied coldly. "You should have no illusions. I am sure I had already told you that. I am not a savior. I didn''t save anyone at all. If those elves ended up in that situation, it is precisely because of me. Always remember that. If I saved them, as you ask, I would only be rejecting what I have been up to this moment, including the decisions I have made. The same decisions that freed your people and brought us here today."

    Her sister lowered her head, causing an unexpected reaction in Antilene, almost as if her heart skipped a beat. "I know... but... it''s so unfair."

    When had she started caring so much about other people''s emotions? Of an elf, no less. If Rufus could see her now, what would he have thought?

    If Faine had seen her now, how would she have reacted?

    "Do you trust me?"

    In one simple question, the whole core of a relationship could be encapsulated. There was no need for Agravaine to tell what was passing in her mind, in time even a lie could become if not the truth, at least something very close.

    "I would like to¡­ I would so much¡­ but right now it''s difficult." Eyes of different colors mirrored each other. So luminous were her sister''s, so dark were hers.

    "Then do it! That is an order!" The first legit one Antilene had ever given. Perhaps the last. There had by far been monarchs with a worse record. "Am I or not your Queen? All the way to hell and back."

    "...Do you have a plan?"

    "I think I have one. But, until then, you don''t have to do anything. If everything goes as it should, those three will be free, without us having to shed a drop of blood."

    "...I trust you."

    Silence fell.

    There was nothing more left to say.

    Birisia, Draconic Kingdom

    Gazef Stronoff breathed in the morning air at the top of his lungs, letting the scent of freshness wake him completely from a placid and peaceful night, whose sleep had been lulled by pleasant dreams now already about to be lost in the folds of memory, with no regrets.

    A servant knocked at the door of his room, quickly leaving a tray on which various foodstuffs were arranged. Following Gazef''s instructions, simple aliments had been prepared, toasted bread, a varied assortment of fruits and just a cup of water. Some nobles had praised his choice as an illustrious example to follow, one way of being closer to the soldiers, breaking down differences.

    For Slaine''s captain, there was no need to resort to such subterfuges to reach a result that, in his opinion, was very easy to achieve. Honesty and directness were sufficient to achieve a sense of camaraderie, there was no need to resort to double-dealing methods. He simply preferred that kind of breakfast to the one usually reserved for officers, which abounded with far too much sugar for his taste.

    "It''s almost time. I''d better get ready." He whispered aloud, no one in particular to hear him, with the possible exception of a couple of birds humming a pleasant rhythm outside his window.

    A soft sigh anticipated his preparation. The clothing the court provided was far from being his favorite, with all those lapels and frills he felt more like a jester than a warrior, the only consolation being that court soldiers like himself could carry their swords with them, even in front of the Queen. Without unsheathing it, of course, except on exceptional and extraordinary occasions.

    Had it not been for his constant training, an indispensable part of his routine, he would have almost begun to believe that he had lost his edge.

    Yet it did not displease him as he might have believed in the past, in another life.

    In order to make his way from his flats to the royal palace, there was not a long way to go, at least in theory. Gazef had made a habit, now indispensable, of stretching his route to chat with anyone he met and with whom he had some familiarity.

    "Sir Stronoff, it is a pleasure to meet you!"

    "Captain, we expect you tonight for the card game. This time try not to have everything taken away."

    "Oh, Sir Stronoff, what a blessing it is that you dropped by. Could you give me a hand with these crates?"

    Usually, apart from members of his crew, Gazef used to exchange greetings with what some might have called the last of the last. Scullions, petty tradesmen, shop apprentices, housewives intent on looking after their offspring, and the more the merrier.

    Their problems, which were small and rather insignificant, especially when compared to the issues he usually had to deal with and which had a very different character, gave his life a little of the color he had so much sought. Knowing that a word of comfort or a simple play of muscle was enough to lift what were soon no longer mere strangers was... comforting. In a way he had rarely experienced.

    His morning walk was, ever since they had returned from Baharuth, one of the most pleasant moments of the day. The mission currently entrusted to him by the Cardinals, to keep Queen Draudillon Oriculus safe and perhaps even cast an eye over the affairs of the inner court, was by far the best he had ever received.

    Unfortunately, all good things were destined to come to an end. It was the natural course, however painful it might be.

    "Oh Sir Stronoff, you have already arrived. How nice to see you here." The vast halls of the Dragon''s palace were spacious and welcoming, giving anyone who entered the impression of being embraced by a loving and peaceful creature. Queen Draudillon used to say proudly: ''If this Kingdom is a dragon, its people are the treasure guarded by it''.

    The mid-day light came in with lively warmth, bringing the good cheer typical of spring days. A woman, whom Gazef hardly knew, greeted him as soon as the entrance was crossed, with a sweet smile barely visible behind the calm and elegant waving of a red fan. At her side, a young but stern-looking man scrutinized Gazef with a long, inquisitive look.

    "Baroness Ayin, you are splendid as usual." The captain promptly kissed the pink hand offered to him, with a readiness and decision that amazed even himself. "Had your grace an appointment with the Queen?"

    The woman looked at him with her piercing cerulean eyes, continuing to fan herself. It was hot, of course, but not so hot as to justify that continuous waving. "All the nobility and heads of ministries have been summoned in great haste." She approached him, letting her pungent lilac perfume wash over him with overwhelming force, before whispering in a tone somewhat uncharacteristic for a personality such as hers. "My friend, Sir Ami, was giving me some juicy information before the official meeting. He''s one of the new rabbims, but he''s already proving a fine investment, you know? For our great Queen, of course."

    The young man, feeling called upon, adjusted the buttons of his gray jacket, in truth already worn with such order and composure as to border on perfection, before offering his hand to Gazef, who reciprocated with equal vigor.

    "I have heard much about you, Sir Stronoff." Firm grip, giving off unusual energy. For a civil servant, it was for sure unusual. "I would be pleased to work together for the future of the Draconic Kingdom. Your exploits at Gelone''s Fortress were a great source of inspiration."

    "I am always uncomfortable when what are, in my humble opinion, entirely common deeds are extolled." A bad habit that was difficult to get out of, mused Gazef despite himself. "Nevertheless, it has recently come to my attention that this attitude might not always be taken in the right way. Following my good intentions, let me therefore thank you for such kind words."

    He smiled, letting himself be carried away by the enthusiasm. Being an object of devotion was... difficult. But trying was the least he could do to reciprocate the affection shown. He owed it to all those who had put him on a pedestal, and most of all he owed it to himself.

    "A splendid example of chivalry, Sir Stronoff." The baroness pulled out a delicate handkerchief to wipe away what looked like a tear, but was probably just a drop of sweat that had marred her make-up. "If everyone were as valiant and honest as you, this Kingdom would shine like the brightest of stars in the firmament. Unfortunately..." She lowered her voice again, this time seriously intending not to be heard by anyone. "Sir Ami was just filling me in on one of the topics that will be the focus of debate today. Did you know that there was an attempted coup in Zama? And by the brother of Count Fasil himself! Fortunately, the attempt was foiled before it could materialize into anything concrete."

    The young official scratched his forehead, puzzled. "It''s only conjecture, we don''t know if it really happened that way. As one might expect, Count Fasil was reluctant to open up too much about the matter, attributing his brother''s sudden death to a simple accident during what was a simple exercise. A very curious exercise, in my opinion, since the unfortunate man lost his head in it. Literally. Anyway, the fact is that things are starting to mobilize again at the front, and not everyone can take it optimistically, you understand."

    The problem with peace was that it had to be hard won, and that conquest did not always last forever. No, sometimes it was so transitory that it could almost be considered a mirage in the desert.

    "Life on the frontier is not easy, I am fortunate that my territories are in the easternmost part of the kingdom," the baroness replied, taking on an almost contemplative expression. "Fortunately, there are valiant soldiers like you to protect us, Sir Stronoff."

    Gazef accepted the compliment, smiling at her with some embarrassment. Old habits were hard to die.

    "I can only promise that I will do my best," he replied, flaunting a confidence unusual for him, but not entirely misplaced. "My men and I will put our lives on the line to protect the safety of you and every other citizen of the Draconic Kingdom."

    "A real stand-up guy." The baroness sighed. "If only my son were like you. Unfortunately, the more time passes, the more he resembles that amoeba of a father, peace be upon his soul. He''s just a little boy, but I won''t be there forever to guide him."

    A mother''s concern could shine through even in the harshest moments of criticism. Gazef, who was not accustomed to such interactions, found himself feeling a certain envy towards the precocious baron. On one level, however, losing a parent at such a young age must have been an unimaginable pain. Something an orphan like him could not even imagine¡­ Perhaps his condition had its good sides.

    "With you to be his teacher, I''m sure the young man will become a wonderful servant of the Kingdom," a slope in Ami''s apparent perfection. Rather than from distrust of the baroness, whom he clearly esteemed, it was more from a lack of confidence in her offspring. "Certainly it is that by the time he reaches the age of majority fit to rule, there may be nothing left."

    The woman frowned, her brows closing in a worried frown. "Is the situation so hopeless? I had heard that refugees were increasing, but it is something cyclical. The east prepares soldiers while the population is replenished by peasants seeking refuge from the west. Ruspina itself is ready to receive a large influx of immigrants. Then these soldiers hone their skills and become border safeguards until the situation becomes untenable again." She dropped her fan, showing for the first time a serious face full of doubt. "It is far from being an optimal situation, but so far things have held up, to a certain extent. I should¡­" a characteristically uncertain inflection of voice, no less sincere. "Should we start worrying?"

    "I am only an ambassador, and as such I bear no grievances. The fact of the matter is that Queen Oriculus certainly has her work cut out for her. Old methods need to change, and soon."

    As if she did not already have plenty, Gazef would have liked to interject, but he remained silent.

    Duties and honors were a mechanism based on counterbalance. The more riches and titles of nobility the birthright conferred, the more burdens and responsibilities were placed on the chosen one, at least in theory.

    ...Even if in that case the balance was not fully respected. What was more, the scales clearly had a preferred plate.

    "Dark times lie ahead. Luckily I have learned to walk around with the lantern well lit," said the baroness, not without a certain irony. Some women, at least judging from Gazef''s experience, had the extraordinary gift of being able to take everything in stride. Regarding this, he was several steps behind the Queen and the baroness. "I do not envy our sovereign. In her place I would have pulled my hair out in despair by now. Managing a fief is already a heavy task on my poor, stiff shoulders. Although I wonder if I could hide my intentions through... the convenient methods she uses, would I say the same? Nope, just nonsense. Forgive my foolish ventures."

    "I don''t think you will be out of place. I''m just an outsider, so the rumors I''ve heard might be misplaced, but it''s been since your husband''s death that you''ve been working hard to make your lands prosper, if I''m not mistaken. On this, you and the Queen are cut from the same cloth."

    This was not meant to be a pandering attempt to get into her good graces. Gazef was only expressing what he really thought, and his opinion was high for both of them.

    "How gallant, you will make me blush in this case," but her cheeks retained their natural glow. "Especially when you avoid sharing with me the most despicable hearsay that has been put about me. No, don''t look at me like that Sir Ami. Many tongues here have been tantalized by calling me a poisoner, and were it not for the prosperous future that awaits my son, I am almost certain that unpleasant whispers could have become unfounded accusations all too easily. My late husband was indeed many things, fortunately poor was not one of them."

    "I was thinking nothing of the sort," the official defended himself, maintaining the same indecipherable expression. How he could manage to keep even the smallest of eyelash hairs in perfect place was admirable. "I just wanted to make sure we hadn''t wasted too much of Sir Stronoff''s time."

    "Is that so Sir Stronoff? My deepest apologies in that case."

    "No need to apologize. In truth, I was waiting for my second in command," which was taking longer than expected. Iovino had never been the punctual type, but this time he was really making him wait. "In fact, I think it''s about time now. With your permission, I would take my leave." He lowered the knock at an angle to show proper reverence, but still kept his gaze fixed on the two.

    "Oh, then hurry up. Don''t keep our Queen waiting too long." The baroness reciprocated with a delicate, and rather youthful despite her age, flinching of her skirt.

    Sir Ami instead brought his right hand to his chest. "Should we meet again, please do not hesitate to count on my services. Before our beloved monarch, I live to serve the kingdom." For a second that lasted as long as a heartbeat, barely perceptible in the flow of things, Gazef had the impression of catching a glimpse of a piece of a six-pronged necklace. "We all want the citizens of this kingdom to prosper, don''t we?"

    "...Definitely."

    After taking his leave, the Slaine captain headed towards the main hall of the palace with a feeling of estrangement. Nothing had happened to justify his apprehension, yet a woodworm in his ear kept whispering unpleasant worries.

    When he reached the entrance, he did not even need to introduce himself. The guard manning the door recognised him instantly, inviting him in with a pleasant mixture of politeness and admiration. Fame also had its good sides.

    "So, can I count on you?" Small and graceful, the figure in the center of the room sat at the side of a large desk, on which documents were piled with the same intensity as a sea counts its drops. A serious-looking man with thick glasses kept handing her new papers, occasionally alternating with large glasses of red wine, which clashed with that puny frame.

    "Of course. Don''t worry, Queen Oriculus, I''ll take care of the captain." The interlocutor was a man Gazef knew well, whose surprise at seeing him almost made the warrior regret the doubts he had harbored towards him until moments before. "Oh, Captain. You''ve arrived!"

    When Iovino saw him enter, he greeted him with that typical good mood that Gazef had come to appreciate. Although, at that time it seemed that something more lurked in the tone of his second''s voice, however strange it might sound. A certain... embarrassment? But for what?

    "Sir Stronoff. It gives me immense pleasure to see you." The Queen momentarily lifted her gaze from her work, to turn it towards him. Gazef bowed -by now he had become all too good at it- in anticipation. Draudillon ordered him to get up quickly, with a simple wave of her hand, the one not busy writing. "I was just informing Sir Iovino of the assignments I intended to give your team," she resumed, the seriousness of her face not a common view on such childish features. "And excuse me for receiving you like this. But I have my reasons for doing so. Let''s call it bad habits."

    However much she tried to convince himself otherwise, getting used to Queen Draudillon''s ''youthful'' form was not as easy as one might have thought.

    The contrast between the apparent adorableness that this transformation conferred and the pressure the dragon descendant could exert was all too marked.

    "I understand perfectly." Humans were used to following predefined patterns, the moment one strayed from what the mind perceived as normal, even unconsciously a small short circuit was produced within one''s thought systems. "You don''t need to justify yourself to me. I am a sword, and as such my task is only to direct myself towards the target you point at me."

    The Queen''s face relaxed, only to quickly return to focus on that pile of papers which, by some strange and perverse logic, was increasing instead of decreasing.

    Thinking back to what he had understood from the baroness, Gazef wondered whether returning to that childlike state not only had a propagandistic function, but also a more concrete -and ruthless- purpose. For an adult, considering a child a danger was absolutely difficult; rank did not matter. And if court life was comparable to a nest of vipers, it was not the one who proved to be bigger who would win, but the one who would strike at the most unexpected moments.

    "It makes me happy to know that you understand," the woman, small only in stature, gave him a tired smile. Cyclical, such was the life of Queen Draudillon Oriculus. "Appearing like this is far from being a pleasant experience. However, there are some positives. Like when I am forced to raise the required war contributions and watch the stunned faces of the cream of the nobility being asked such an affront by what could very well be one of their daughters or granddaughters."

    The bitter laugh that came out almost instinctively might have led one to believe otherwise. Was it the wine that gave it that taste?

    Gazef, in any case, preferred not to inquire further.

    "I would like to give you news, I dare not say more optimistic, but at least original. Unfortunately, I think we are both aware of what I am... commanding you? May I command you, Sir Stronoff?"

    A continual holding of breath, until the worst of it passed, savoring those rare moments of calm, and then resuming once more that task which became more onerous each time... more difficult.

    "At the moment me and my unit answer to you so, yes, we will gladly comply with your orders."

    Woe to those who thought that a leader was one who could make every decision without first thinking it through. In this respect, Gazef and the little sovereign were equals.

    "May I ask you to defend the Draconic Kingdom once more? My demand rhymes with impertinence, and my apologies will never be too many for the onerous task I entrust to you but¡­"

    Nothing more needed to be added.

    "I have taken an oath." Gazef said, before she could finish "I thought it was to the Gods, or to you, or the people. Every time I drew my sword, I considered why I was doing it. A reason for fighting is what makes us stronger, isn''t it? I don''t know if it''s true, but I like to think so. My reason is that... I fight for myself. To defend my happiness that I feel I have finally grasped." Selfishness, perhaps. But by far better to be selfish than to allow oneself to become despondent. Being free required making compromises. "So, no. You have nothing to thank me, or praise me for. When I will be at the front, it will be because it was my choice. Because I felt this was the best thing for me. Nothing else."

    The Prime Minister stopped his now steady flow, while the Queen also took a moment to reflect on what she had heard.

    "Then, let me give you one last order." Sometimes, the blood of Draudillon Oriculus was as if awakening from a long slumber, and the ancestral royalty and power of her being were able to dispel the doubts of those who questioned her lineage. "It is not a favor I ask, nor a prayer. It is an obligation, of which we shall both be equal parts. I pledge to offer you the best equipment and means the Draconic Kingdom has to offer. In return, you will undertake to do one thing for me."

    Gazef clenched his fist against his chest, the contact of the bare skin of his knuckles with the fabric producing a strangely rumbling sound.

    "I am listening."

    "Win!"

    "Shall be done!"

    "Good." Draudillon Oriculus returned to her work. "Within a week you will arrive at the Fortress of Biblo, where you will place yourself in the service of General Aderbaal. Your second Iovino will give you all the information required. Do you have any questions?"

    "Only one," dared Gazef.

    "Speak." Her gaze remained fixed on the papers.

    No, she was looking at him.

    "When do we leave?"

    Beta readers: hackslashback, whostolemytea?

 Chapter 43: In waiting of the arrival

    Chapter 43

    In waiting of the arrival

    Border of the Draconic Kingdom

    "We arrived late."

    Captain Nigun had the rare quality of making even the most banal remark sound grandiose. A grave and lapidary tone that left no room for further consideration.

    "Ian, check for survivors. Or unwanted guests."

    The order was given before thought could even process what was in front of them.

    "Will do."

    The second-in-command, Ian, was so eager to lick those shining boots that perhaps the term Windstride could have been used to describe his extraordinary sucking-up skills.

    Clementine relaxed, not sensing even the slightest hint of danger. The burning desire to be alone for even a minute was thwarted by the group of hooded enchanters who clung to her like a shadow never leaving her alone.

    It was a small village. So small that it might not even have been called that. The atmosphere had a certain fascinating lugubriousness to it, with particular attention captured by the muted peace that stilled the air. Clementine wandered around for just a few minutes, before realizing she was already done with exploring. A few lianas and creepers sprouted from the ground shyly, coloring what was otherwise a well gray landscape with a vibrant green.

    Most of all, it was the pollen that was unbearable. Clementine had to hold back a sneeze, more out of pride than necessity. There was a conviction in her that even if she showed the slightest trace of weakness for a second, the devotion and almost mystical worship she exercised towards the other members of the Scripture would vanish.

    "Did you find anything, Lady Quintia?"

    One of the Sunlight Scripture members approached her. She was a woman with long white hair, carrying a voluminous amber-coloured tome with her. Small brown circles watched visibly and curiously for any trace left behind, looking for any clue that might satisfy their thirst for knowledge.

    "No, nothing." Clementine would have liked to add a small smirk, but sometimes keeping silent proved to be the wiser alternative. "If there were any humans here, enough time has passed to remove any sign of their passing."

    It was almost as if no battle had taken place there. Nor any form of resistance. Perhaps the villagers of the Draconic Kingdom had learned to live with a certain spirit of resignation, and had not even tried to fight when the horde had arrived.

    The real cowardice was trying to oppose the inescapable.

    "This is the second village we''ve come across, and we still haven''t managed to get a spider out of the hole. The demi-humans are adept at hiding their tracks, but this time they''ve managed to hone their techniques even more." The woman began to scribble something on the pages of the book, with particular aptitude.

    Clementine couldn''t understand what was so interesting there that justified the ardor with which she was transcribing, but while it was true that it hurt the pen more than the sword, it was even more true that in the Scriptures, the work of assassins, not scribes, was valued.

    "What caught your attention so much that you tried to break all records of fast writing?" Boredom had an incredible power: it brought out curiosity and attention where otherwise there would have been only indifference.

    "Didn''t you notice anything strange, Lady Quintia?" The woman -Clementine couldn''t remember the name no matter how hard she tried- assumed an opinionated expression, somewhere between facetiousness and curiosity. "There is so much magical energy in this place, it is overwhelming. Yet, there are no traces of spells, right? No side effects or concrete results that we can analyze. How to explain it?"

    The question bored Clementine deeply, but she struggled to give an answer, if only to keep up appearances.

    "Maybe it''s just an impression. The practice of detecting magic particles is not perfect, if I remember correctly." Quaiesse would be able to determine precisely which tier would be perfect to use in cases like this, as well as devise a perfect plan of action for the occasion. If he had been there, they would not have had such problems and, as their mother always said, ''her brother would have brought a new ray of sunshine in the morning''. Unfortunately, the dawn was approaching. "In any case, I don''t think he should expect much from me in situations like this Lady... Elysant."

    The cover of the book had engraved in large letters that name which, by direct association and with a bit of luck, would have avoided the embarrassment of a wrong denomination.

    "Yes, that might be true," Clementine sensed no reaction to the name, so cool either she had gotten it right, or Sunlight Scripture members were also masters at avoiding embarrassing situations. One or the other didn''t matter to her. "It''s just so... weird. The first time we set out on the trail of beastmen in these areas, we had so many clues that the hunt was almost an uneven game. And now¡­"

    "... And now we grope in the dark like frightened, inexperienced kids." For the Black Scripture, that was the practice. A common occurrence. Indeed, there was, however paradoxical, a certain familiarity in that unknown situation. "Our enemies could attack us at any moment and all we can do is huddle close and hope that the blood that will flow, for it will surely flow in droves, will not be just our own."

    Clementine caressed the stiletto she wore under her armor, letting the living steel cause a sensation, almost a groan, of coldness upon contact with the skin of her fingers. The phalanges retraced every finish of the workmanship, finding comfort in that perfection.

    Elysant clutched at the black tunic, as if Clementine''s gesture had summoned an icy, hellish wind, capable of pushing back the mugginess that had been felt only moments before.

    "Well, we''re safe this time. More than usual I mean." The woman approached, barely restraining a motion of... admiration? Clementine was not, nor did she want to be, adept at deciphering the pure and genuine emotions humans expressed. So masterful was she at embracing death -the death of others, of course-, so inept at assessing the spurts of life, more from lack of desire, than real ability. "This is the first time I have fought together with one of the legends of the Black Scriptures. Forgive my boldness, but when heroes materialize in the flesh, and legends take on concrete contours, it becomes difficult to hold back the enthusiasm!"

    "...No problem at all."

    Devotion. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Clementine could almost get used to it. It was not difficult to understand why the gods had started to be worshiped and adored. It was more intoxicating than most of the wines the Black Scripture woman had ever tasted.

    Except for the reddest of reds. But that, unfortunately, was not always available. Especially not now. Not yet.

    That mission might have provided the perfect opportunity to taste it once more. An uncontrollable tremor almost drove her to try to peer into Elysant''s.

    Sometimes, stopping oneself was indeed so difficult.

    Was she not worthy of praise, for those efforts?

    "I bet you have a lot of stories to delight me with," a pen, whose provenance was uncertain, was brought close to her index finger, from which a tiny light emanated, dim and wispy, until the tip was coloured with a dull black ink. "Above all, there are many encounters with frightening and mysterious beings that might be worthy of ending up here. As the deputy in charge of compiling our team''s bestiary, each new addition to such essential texts is pride and boast for me."

    Elysant began tracing, with unexpectedly painstaking precision, thin but firm lines that quickly coalesced to form an image whose nuance and perfection reminded Clementine of the same sensation of estrangement she felt when her mirror image looked back at her, with that same shifty gaze that adorned her face from behind the glass.

    "Is that me?" How strange. The features were undeniably hers, but for Clementine there was a... dissonance as she compared the image of that sketchy but not untrue portrait and the image she had cultivated about herself for so long. "It''s so... calm. Serene." There was not a sign of disturbance. That angelic detonation was decidedly uncalled for. If a nun''s cassock had been added to that design, it would not have looked out of place in a convent. "I am... honored."

    That kindness was unlike her, but Clementine had learned, not without some difficulty and a few too many attempts, to fabricate an image quite different from reality, no matter how disgusting it was.

    The key was to ask herself: ''What would Quaiesse have done in this predicament?''

    Obviously, she would rather have died than reveal that uncomfortable weakness to her twin. Or kill him. Whichever would have proved easier, if that moment had come.

    "Do you like it? One day I''d like to fill these sheets with all the members of the Black Scriptures, detailing their exploits and abilities. Both as a memorial... and as a manual for future generations."

    Had they been alone, the temptation to answer with a serene no and savor the disappointment on that almost spotless face would have been unquenchable.

    "You were fascinated by my mere presence, why not hear a story from me? Of course, with the promise to keep it hidden from anyone not in the Theocracy."

    Without even dignifying her with a reply, in that square where even two of them stood tight, with the sun beginning to recede beyond the hills, Clementine remembered something that had happened a long, long time ago.

    "That would be wonderful." Eyes widened with poorly concealed wonder. "A chance to take note of every smallest detail of an account equal to legends." She put her pen aside, strangely not reluctantly.

    Clementine could have sworn that for bookworms like her, parting with that instrument would be like parting with a blade for a warrior.

    "It was a few years ago," she didn''t know why she was beginning to remember either. Perhaps a way to pass the time, perhaps just to see the reaction her ending would elicit. "In a remote village, just like this one. Yes, maybe even smaller. Located on Re-Estize''s border with Argland, just downstream from the mountains that separate the two great nations."

    At the mere telling, Clementine could almost find herself in those places, where nature and civilisation had not yet blended perfectly, and where the wild forests still held secrets that only the bravest would dare to discover.

    In fact, it was not entirely unlike their current situation. Or that of many other countries in that region of the continent. The past could be described in archaic and mysterious terms, but that did not make it necessarily any different from the present.

    "The local lord, an affable and generous-looking fellow, had a strange philosophy, which distinguished him from the nobility of Re-Estize. You see, adventurers were not welcome in his fiefdom, and even those who passed through there were not allowed to practice their profession. All this because of a bizarre policy of his, who professed equality between all races, including beasts and other monstrosities." A very strange personality. These were always the types that proved more interesting. "Attacking was only allowed in absolutely exceptional and dangerous cases, and never for prevention."

    The reaction was predictable and obvious, but amusing in its outrageousness.

    "Unheard of! How did they get rid of monsters, then?" Elysant asked, sitting down on a bench not far away. Her indignation was both a cross and a delight for Clementine.

    "You may be surprised to know this, but they used the army. Of course, Re-Estize soldiers are famous¡­ Well, not for their skill. And this lord''s troops were no exception. In fact, we were ordered to go there because the disappearances of inhabitants had become far too numerous."

    "Could it be that the court of Re-Estize did nothing? Had it not noticed anything?"

    At least as far as curiosity was concerned, Elysant was far superior to her. At the time, Clementine had asked no such question, merely directing her sword where she was ordered.

    "Perhaps. I''m not really sure. The king and the other nobles probably already had a lot to worry about and that remote region was of no interest to them. Or maybe they had sent some troops who had been charmed by the Lord''s words and had returned with nothing to show for it. Hard to say. Incidents happen often in the wildlife, and no one really cares about some peasants in a poor and distant region."

    Clementine pulled out a bottle of water from her bag, to quench her thirst before continuing. Talking so much was not usual for her, but she was feeling generous today.

    "In any case, when we arrived no one was posing as itinerant merchants, seeking profit in uncharted territories." Just thinking about reliving that humiliation caused her to shudder. Far better to be a murderer than a trader. "The investigation resulted in nothing. Nothing at all. For days and days we combed the surrounding forests and the houses of the inhabitants, sometimes with slick excuses, sometimes with ...less elegant methods. I was amused to see the faces of my companions struggling to understand what was going on"

    It was evident that some of the situations recounted did not have the same effect as experiencing them first-hand, otherwise Elysant would have shared her laughter.

    "And so you have returned home? With no results?"

    "Our intention was that. We had prepared everything to leave the next day. But on the very last night, we were attacked. You''ll never guess by whom... or perhaps it would be better to say by what."

    The woman took a moment to think about it, only to pick up her tome again, waiting for the conclusion.

    "Vampires." Clementine explained, allowing a certain amount of enjoyment to shine through. "Many of the fief''s soldiers were low-ranking bloodsuckers, who waited for precisely the moment they said was perfect to attack what in their eyes were clueless merchants. They were filling their ranks little by little, before invading the capital. Do I need to explain how that turned out?"

    "You won''t need to," replied Elysant, intrigued rather than entertained. "A vampire coven right in a human kingdom? How was that even possible? Unless¡­"

    "You guessed it! It was indeed the Lord who was the progenitor. That was why adventurers were frowned upon in those parts. Sick, don''t you think?" And extremely funny. In a way, Clementine had valued that abomination for the initiative. "Once in a while, they would catch a few outsiders to quench their thirst. But more often than not, it was the citizens who offered themselves as tribute. They had been so used to being sacrificial offerings that they considered it the norm. And many just found out the chance of becoming immortal appealing. In remote corners such as this, the population was mostly made up of released prisoners and nobodies looking for their fortune, with more than one reason to resent the nobility who had, they claimed, reduced them to that state of extreme misery."

    "Disgusting. So much for integration! It was all a farce. How did it end?"

    Clementine approached, flashing her friendliest smile.

    "How do you think it ended?"

    "...I see. I thank you, Lady Quintia. It is a story worth passing on. Especially to the fools who speak of coexistence with other races." And she began writing again with even more fervor only she knew what. "Is there anything you would have liked to do differently, if you could go back?"

    "Indeed there is something," Clementine licked her now dry lips after so much talking. "I would have liked to kill the leader of that brood with my own hands." Instead, it had fallen to the Captain to get rid of it. An absolute injustice. "Do you think that by dint of drinking so much blood, vampires'' blood is different from ours?"

    "I''ve never faced one of those beings, so I couldn''t say."

    "It was absolutely the same as that of the humblest of peasants. After all, those who proclaim our equality so much are not entirely wrong."

    At the end of it all, they were all equal. The color changed in some, but the life-giving sap was the same for every creation of the gods.

    "Oh, you are here."

    A friendly voice, all too friendly. A man with silver hair pulled back approached at a leisurely pace, followed by other members of Scripture. When he came within a few paces of Clementine, his body bowed almost automatically, as swiftly as a well-trained page.

    "Lady Quintia, is all the exploring going well?" His voice was calm and controlled. But there was a certain... inflection that betrayed a not entirely subdued agitation.

    Normally, Clementine would have assumed that it was her presence that caused that reaction, not without a certain pride in that, but in that particular one she had to admit that there was something particularly mysterious beyond her control.

    "All''s well, vice-captain," she replied boredly, yawning vigorously to emphasize the point. "I was just telling deputy Elysant some nonsense. Nothing¡­" there was no need for that pause, no need whatsoever. Still, the control it gave was priceless. "Of importance. Isn''t that right, Elysant dear?"

    Elysant, astonished and perhaps even surprised, rose with ease, letting the rays of the sunset kiss her clear, pale skin, the pallid complexion a mystery considering the weather to which it was subjected. "No, not at all. It was very interesting! I think even Captain Nigun would be delighted to hear that story! With your permission, Lady Quintia, I would like to share with him what you told me. I look forward to hearing his opinion. Ian, of course, that goes for you too!"

    Was it... admiration? Could a young woman feel anything like that towards such a fanatic?

    Clementine hoped she had misunderstood the sentiment that leaked out with such force, a not entirely unfounded assumption, before realizing that, all things considered, she could hardly have cared less.

    "Sure, go ahead." Windstride closed the matter without particular interest, focusing what little concentration remained on the vice-captain, who was still left in that inferior position.

    Was he waiting for a command before he stood up?

    Clementine could not help but consider which course of action was most suitable.

    On the one hand, having him remain as a lapdog at her feet was strangely... satisfying. A man wagging his tail just for her was more fun than she had expected. Of course, not as much fun as that. But you couldn''t have everything in life.

    Blessed are those who can be content with little was not a proverb that had ever been in her vocabulary.

    Adjusting was fundamental to one''s existence.

    On the other hand, she was curious as to how many fractions of a second it would take her to get up upon hearing an order from him. Would her expectations, downwards, be refuted by reality?

    ''It is indeed true that the most difficult choices require the strongest wills.''

    "Stand up, vice-Captain Ian." She opted for the latter, more so as not to waste any more time and finish him off quickly. ''Two quarters of a second, impressive.'' "To what do I owe this little embassy of yours?"

    "We found something very interesting," Ian looked up, turned it towards her and then lowered it again, in awe. Why he couldn''t keep it was a secret that made Clementine particularly gleeful. Knowing that the very special touch she possessed had not lost its polish there in the wild was really reassuring. "If it''s not inconvenient for you," he resumed, with an uncanny ability to omit any emphasis from her words, "we''d like you to follow us. Captain Nigun is very interested in hearing the opinion... of an expert like you."

    "What is this about?"

    "It''s not difficult to explain, but if you saw with your own eyes you would certainly understand much more easily."

    Clementine did not reply, although she already had an answer to give.

    Keeping them on their toes was absolutely vital to her staying, or they would start meddling over the smallest trifle.

    Much to her mother''s chagrin, Clementine had not the slightest intention of mothering a bunch of drooling brats. It was to be expected of a woman at the height of maturity to churn out a brood of disgusting little creatures, as if the womb was an oven that never knew rest. Maybe it would have been better telling her mother what she thought about that ''sacred duty'' once she was back in the Theocracy. The old carcass''s face would have been absolutely delicious. For the first time in a long time, the ninth seat of the Black Scripture found herself praying that nothing would happen to her old parent while on the move.

    "Lead me, then." After enough time had passed Clementine, who would have preferred a few more seconds, but even she had to admit that at that point things were starting to get annoying, was able to put an end to that uncomfortable quiet. "Ah, let Elysant come with me. I am glad to have her company."

    The woman, on hearing herself called upon, brightened up.

    "I... really¡­ I wouldn''t want to be in the way."

    "No bother," she smiled sweetly at her. "There won''t be any trouble, will there, vice-captain Ian?"

    "Nobody." Quick. Perhaps resembling more a soldier ant than a dog. Zoology was a complicated subject. "In truth, I had also been called to summon deputy Ilay. Her knowledge in demihumans and heteromorphs matters might come in handy."

    "Splendid! Then there will be no problem. We can go."

    Elysant stepped to her side. Clementine was beginning to take a liking to her, an event more unique than rare.

    Just a little more and she would have been the perfect meat-shield.

    On the battlefield, potential sacrifices were never too many. If for men ideals of chivalry and a not too hidden bias, given by the little things they hid between their legs, made swelling the ranks something all too easy, with women one had to be more subtle and give them something a little more elaborate.

    Friendship. Trust. All that kind of crap. Sisterhood and lies. In contexts where male numerical superiority was as obvious as these, establishing a bond was as easy as sticking a blade down the throat of a helpless infant.

    The knights of the Draconic Kingdom and Theocracy were already preparing the camp for the evening. The former with unexpected diligence, the latter with ordinary care.

    It was admirable, at least to many who were not her, how efficiently and quickly such a well-equipped structure could be assembled and provide simple but effective protection in such a short time.

    One had to wonder why they were wasting time if there were enough dwellings to accommodate, if not all, most of the expedition. Even on the off chance that the owners would return to their homes again, they certainly would not have had anything to complain about if their saviors had taken advantage of their hospitality.

    There were not even traces left of the inhabitants'' remains, by the gods! Wasn''t being so picky counterproductive at such a delicate stage of their mission?

    ''And then they say I''m the nutcase! I didn''t even find a trace of blood when I inspected the dwellings. Nothing at all.''

    Clementine had to restrain herself in order not to let her disappointment show. The lack of action of the last few days was almost unbearable.

    "Is something bothering you?" Elysant, sweet, dear girl. So intelligent... but also so stupid. Had she perhaps made a mistake?

    The woman sighed, feigning weariness. "It''s nothing." Brooding too much was not typical of Clementine''s modus operandi. "I was just thinking about what we might be up against. I''ve seen a lot, in my field operative days, and by now finding myself amazed is extremely unusual. It wouldn''t hurt to change this trend."

    "I can''t even imagine what was the most out of the ordinary thing I''ve witnessed."

    ''A little boy with baby teeth still using adult dragons as cheap toys, and a living fossil that could destroy nations with a flick of her fingers unable to solve a toy for children.''

    "...Nothing. Nothing interesting." A drop of sweat, remorse of a past memory and yet still vivid in her mind, furrowed Clementine''s brow, heralding many more. "If I told you, you wouldn''t even believe me. Or would you?"

    The secret, after all, was now out in the open. It was the first time a member of the Black Scriptures could have avoided keeping their mouth shut on that subject. The first time in who knows how many centuries. Probably, the Sunlight Scripture were aware of it.

    Yet, Clementine said nothing.

    "Are we there?" The only words she managed to utter were those, her attention already having erased Elysant altogether and her questions becoming more annoying one after the other, with an intensity proportional to her curiosity.

    "We''re almost there." Ian replied, without even looking at her.

    They had moved a few meters away from the village, entering the antechamber of one of the many forests that painted the maps of the Draconic Kingdom as almost regular patches.

    While the cawing of birds -and who knows how many other creatures- strove to interrupt the silence that formed the background to an eerie scene, while worms and tiny insects fell prey to legendary battles that replicated, albeit in a small form, the struggles for survival of all other races in glory and victims, while the leaves moved, not cradled by the wind, but by ghostly, melancholic and tremendously inhuman howls, Clementine reached an epiphany.

    The endless scarlet streets were paved with the blood of brave men.

    Captain Nigun, with that cocky grin of his, with that overflowing faith, with that devotion to the cause that would have made the most fanatical zealot vomit, greeted her with lies that tasted of truth and truths that tasted of lies.

    His body would have been even more beautiful, even more resplendent, had it been coloured that red that Clementine so loved. His rosary, unfailing, inseparable, would have looked even more sacred once the ligaments were broken.

    What a man, that Nigun Grid Luin. The perfect example of the Slaine Theocracy beliefs. Years and years of indoctrination, of honed conditioning techniques had reached their zenith in the production of puppets that filled an immeasurable void with unreal falsehoods, placing stillness where there should have been torment.

    If he had not been a Luin, he might as well have been a Quintia. Trained to perfection in the sacred ways, a perfect example of the superman who transcended the limits imposed by a nature so cruel.

    Just like Quaiesse. But he was no Quintia. He was a Luin. Not like Clementine. She was a Quintia. Clementine Hazeia Quintia. Even the middle name was shared with her twin. It was a good omen, they said. It showed their bond, they said.

    Clementine would draw a line, thin and perfect, on that neck so white that even the coloring could have been mistaken as a symbol of purity. She would have seen the blood gushing, in flocks, because that was how she liked it, then she would have drawn a second line, from the height of his chin to the end of his chest. A cross, a portrayal of faith. A masterpiece carved into the skin. Windstride would have made his body a temple, a relic.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Then she would move on to the other Sunlight Scriptures, starting with vice-Captain Ian. How would that man have taken her possible betrayal?

    He would have cursed her, insulted her, and killed her! If only he could have. He would only have died when his men had already been exterminated. Only when he had seen the lifeless, lifeless bodies of those he had sworn to protect. It was his blessing, and her mercy. It came at the end, when it no longer had any meaning to be granted.

    Ironic! Just like life.

    Elysant, when would it be her turn? She knew her so little, but it felt like she had known her all her life. So predictable. Golden child of the Theocracy, just as Clementine had once been. Before the mask gave way, before the only meaning of life was revealed in her eyes.

    She would have felt hurt, she would have felt betrayed. That hair so white would have been dirtied, no, it was more correct to say it would have taken on a sincere, natural hue. There was a reason why it was better never to meet one''s heroes! The risk that they might exceed her expectations was tempting. But more common was the possibility that they might disappoint. In this, Clementine was truly ordinary. Almost banal.

    Then she would move on to the soldiers of the Draconic Kingdom, who had never given up hope, although they had every reason to do so.

    Why are you doing this? They would ask her. Shouting so loud that they could be heard in the silence. An answer would have been fabricated. She was a traitor. A whore. She had sold herself to the demi-humans. Scandalous! Profane! In just imagining their faces contorting, their eyes widening, their mouths screaming profanities and curses, Clementine felt a sense of satisfaction that was hard to describe. That frisson had returned, pleasant and soothing, and at the same time frenzied and suffocating.

    Clementine would have killed them all.

    All of them.

    "Lady Quintia, what do you think?"

    The body was laid out among the leaves, tossed like the filthiest rubbish. Its two forms blended into a distorted symmetry, an equine face patched over what was once a peasant like so many others. His right hand a malformed hoof, his hair a horse''s mane.

    The stomach was open, and dozens of worms of various lengths had thrown themselves into it to feast.

    Giant teeth like eyes had been inserted into a mouth too small to contain them, shaping a delightfully grotesque smile.

    A cockamamie representation of two halves that could never become one.

    It must have been a painful death, because it would not have been madness to still be able to hear the echoes of suffering produced by the creation of that masterpiece. Clementine could imagine the satisfaction the artist who had brought it all to life had felt in making that nightmare real. And she felt envy. Envy that she had not been the first pioneer of that new avant-garde art.

    "What is this horror?"

    "Gods save us."

    Nigun and his men continued to pray. If the gods could hear their invocations, it was not for her to say.

    "I have never seen anything like this." Perhaps only when she had set her eyes on the operating table of Khajiit and his followers, a few days earlier.

    The corpse''s gaze, concealed by a reddish liquid, was pleading. Clementine, heedless of the dirt and boils that celebrated that horror, touched it, recognising that familiar sensation in an instant.

    "I told you, Elysant." But the woman was hardly paying her attention, on the verge of making a lake of puke. "Blood, whatever creature it comes from, always remains the same."

    To know the mechanics of life, it was first necessary to learn those of death.

    Union Cities State Alliance

    Imperial Proclamation of the Glorious Plains Nation.

    To the representatives and citizens of the City-State Union of Karnasus, greetings!

    It should be understood that this missive is not intended to rebuke or threaten. Indeed, should our message be misunderstood, we can reassure you that it was not our intention. As many of you may know, or as many of you may be aware, the great arms of the Empire have extended their embrace towards the Union territories. There have been misunderstandings, of course, understandable when strong and independent personalities clash. Nonetheless, we have always felt that any friction could be resolved and that collaboration, this sacred word too often forgotten, would ultimately prevail over any smallest and most insignificant quarrel!

    As Shah, as leader of a kingdom where multi-ethnicity and difference are key words, we realize that mistakes have been made on both sides. Just as the wiser father acknowledges that blame must be shared with the son, we do not pretend that on our part there could not have been behavior that led to errors and, as hard as it is to admit, to pain that could have been easily avoided, if only a little more diplomacy and a modicum of caution had been used.

    For this, we acknowledge our faults.

    What was our intent, to restore our great nation to its former glory and luster, was a design that was perhaps too optimistic and naive in its simplicity. The eagerness to realize this great project, the benefits of which would be in abundance for all, clouded our judgment, and may have led to some haste in our plans, easily avoidable. Our hearts weep, and our souls squeal as we count how much has been lost by this folly!

    With this in mind, peace talks have been put in place. Both to remedy what was a disturbance in the Harmony of Heaven, and to make the sacrifice that these heroes- that these martyrs- made not in vain. In the future we envisioned, every race and every citizen shook hands in the construction of what was a future whose splendor blinded even our regal eyes, such was its beauty.

    Precisely for this reason, we sent our fraternal friend, Satrap Tiribazus, trusted advisor and excellent administrator, as the first brick of that bridge we intended to build, in the hope that it would be the first step, the most painful but also the necessary one, to embark together on a path that would lead to the betterment of both.

    Optimism, unfortunately, has the makings of a two-faced demon.

    To our great regret, we were deceived by what was in front of us, without taking into account what lurked in the shadows! Convinced that our sentiments were shared by all those who had peace as their primary interest, we sinned in arrogance.

    Do not, however, confuse our benevolence with foolishness! The disappearance of the satrap Tiribazus, again, we reiterate, a brotherly friend and indispensable resource, and of General Arsames, a valiant hero of the Empire, cause an unbridgeable hole in our heart. A hole so big that filling it becomes more difficult every day and could lead, if a remedy is not soon provided, to decisions that could have catastrophic consequences on both sides.

    Once again, this is not an accusation! We do not mean to point the finger at the Union, nor do we mean to imply that this tragic event was caused by a foolish -for to refuse our generous offer would only have been foolish- act of impertinence. If it was indeed an affront to us, forgiveness is the only thing we intend to grant to those who were guilty of such a grave crime.

    It is therefore with such a state of mind that we ask, with as much kindness and respect as possible, for the fulfillment of this insignificant request. That the perpetrators of this misdeed be handed over to us, so that they may be given a fair and just trial under the watchful eye of our jurisdiction.

    We guarantee that no repercussions affecting the relations we have so painstakingly built in recent times between our respective embassies will follow our decision, no matter how harsh it should be. Once the matter is put to rest we can resume negotiations as if nothing had happened. On this, our word is given and established as the most sacred of oaths.

    Should our demands, which, we repeat again, are considered by us to be entirely reasonable, not be met, we would reluctantly be forced to turn our hearts to stone and our word to iron and fire.

    Do not let selfishness and self-interest put the brakes on what could be the greatest opportunity in the region for centuries! The Evil Deities have brought chaos and destruction to our lands, making us divided, weak!

    Do not be seduced by evil and envy! Do not let your baser instincts get the better of you! Let goodness and reason guide your actions! Be wise! Be better!

    Signed Darius the First, first in his line, Shah of the Great Plains and Emperor under Heaven.

    "What do you think?"

    Antilene read a second time, to make sure she had not missed any crucial details. Once it was ascertained that nothing had been missed, the half-elf flattened the paper and threw it into a nearby basket without even taking aim. It was a hit on the first shot.

    "It was an amusing read, though I don''t think I fully understood the joke." She sipped at the glass of milk in front of her, not realizing that a small mustache had formed on her still sleepy face.

    "You have something under your nose," said Agravaine, intent on drinking tea right nearby.

    "Is this also a joke?" Antilene asked, crinkling her eyes in exhaustion.

    "No. It''s milk."

    After cleaning herself, Antilene turned to Kista, who sat opposite her. Only a glass of water approached her lips. Barely accentuated dark circles towered over a still calm and composed face.

    "Are you going to take me to trial?" An interesting prospect. She had never been in a courtroom before. "Should I shout ''Objection!'' right at the salient moment? Maybe pointing my finger dramatically and blathering something about the unfairness of the evidence and the dishonesty of the witnesses."

    A small laugh escaped the half-elf''s mouth.

    "I have discussed this with Queen Kirke, and we both agree that it is baseless nonsense," and yet, it was not entirely impossible to detect traces of concern in the mayoress'' voice. A certain heaviness hovered on that morning when the dawn had lasted longer than usual and the sun''s rays penetrated through the window with more intensity than normal. "However, if our informants are reliable, not all cities in the Union see it the same way. In Beppo Allo, General Chazos has proclaimed that he will bring the heads of the traitors on a silver platter to the Equestrian King."

    "I have always felt that gold was more suited to my neck. I like the contrast of the brightness with the paleness of my skin."

    But that brutes could think of such subtleties was too much to ask, Antilene was aware.

    "Then why are your clothes always dark shades?"

    "... Touch¨¦. I should renew my wardrobe." The Theocracy had always preferred cooler coloration, even in fashion. It was therefore difficult to get carried away and try something new. Killing a habit was sometimes harder than wiping out an entire army. At least for her. "We''ve been so busy that we haven''t even had time to look at some interesting shops. And I should also buy something for you, Agravaine, and for Etienne and Melody."

    The butler''s uniforms and the maid''s dresses were beginning to show a few too many threads leaking out and far too many mending. Considering the resources they had in her father''s kingdom, it wasn''t unreasonable to imagine that the work clothes they had were even older than the human who now sat with them.

    "Too kind, my Queen."

    "Kista, what do you think are the most luxurious boutiques in the Union? Don''t get hung up on the price, what do you do with money if you can''t spend it? Ah, if there''s something you want, don''t mind telling me. I will have to repay your hospitality somehow."

    "...Do you think this situation is funny?"

    Now the concern was evident.

    "Of course not. Otherwise I''d be laughing."

    If there was no reason to worry, why do it? If there was no reason to panic, why act like you were suffocating?

    "Orcneas is having a debate." Kista was not of that opinion. From a certain point of view, that was her job. The people at the top also had to grieve for those whose leaders they were, to alleviate their problems a little. "Do you remember magistrate Kostocles? The apeman you met at the council?"

    An emeritus imbecile.

    "A great personality."

    "An individual who certainly leaves no room for interpretation." Agravaine added. The elf had finished her tea and had begun to help Melody prepare breakfast. Etienne was busy tidying up the large room that had been provided for them during their overnight stays in Ris. Why he continued to do this, Antilene was not sure. By then it was so clean that they might as well have eaten on the floor, no more need for tables.

    "In any case," Kista continued, "he is convincing his colleague and the city council that Ris and Bebard are a danger to their future. He hasn''t received full approval yet, but it shouldn''t be long before Orcneas also comes out against us."

    "Sounds like a good choice to me. In his place I would have done the same."

    A stranger arrives and provokes the great power that until a few weeks before had crushed them as a giant disposes of a dwarf. It didn''t matter where they looked from, that was by far the only rational and sensible decision to make.

    Kista was not of the same opinion.

    "Orcneas controls the largest trading port in the region. The moment he decides to take sides against us, we will lose much of the already scarce supplies we will need to win the war."

    "It is true that I eat a lot, but I do not feel that the entire imports of a large port are necessary to satiate me."

    Finally the hint of a laugh, it had been incredibly hard to wring out. As a comedian Antilene wasn''t as excellent as she thought.

    "I agree. A quarter is more than enough. Maybe."

    Agravaine handed a plate from which she waved a still steaming omelet to both her and their guest. The elf, on the other hand, contented herself with a few beaten eggs.

    "I merely appreciate what is in good taste. It wasn''t a crime last time I checked." Which, admittedly, was a real long time ago. People who lived short lives tended to modify trivial things like this with the same ease of which they breathed, maybe for an absurd feeling of control.

    On the dish, the half-elf noticed a small smile etched with sauce. Melody''s handiwork, no doubt.

    "It''s good," it had just come out of the pan, and so the taste still had that typical heat, but Antilene almost paid no attention to it. "Even if it''s missing something."

    "I think it''s delicious," Kista certainly didn''t let embarrassment get the better of her, but she bit into the omelet with an astonishing spontaneity. "Your maid is an excellent cook."

    "Don''t get me wrong, it''s superfine. But my old nurse could give it a different kind of texture. How can I put it? It was like eating a cloud and a plate of pasta cooked to perfection at the same time."

    "I know what''s missing."

    "I beg you, don''t tell me it''s love."

    "I was going to say salt," and Agravaine handed her a small container. "Of course, your guess is still spot on. Nono, don''t look at me like that. Cheesy, melancholy. No matter what you call it. The taste of childhood is hard to replicate, no matter what utensils and ingredients are used."

    "There is not much in my childhood that is worthy of being savored again."

    Bitter had never been to the taste of the half-elf. And time, strangely enough, managed to make it even more unpleasant.

    "This makes those few moments we remember with sweetness even more etched in our memory. They become our yardstick and the recipe for our prejudices. Not because of any inherent quality, but simply because we are inclined to compare what happens to us now with what made us happy in the past." Agravaine''s eggs were beginning to get cold, but she didn''t seem to care much. "The secret, I think, is to look not for replacements, but for new food."

    "I mean, having a favorite dish is good, but there''s nothing to stop us from tasting something else," Kista had already finished, and was wiping herself decently with a finely folded napkin. "At best, we might be surprised."

    Antilene looked at how much was left on the plate. Its smile was now reduced to a barely sketched line, but it had not lost the good humor.

    "I would propose a toast for this touching moment, but using milk instead of wine would make any master of ceremonies put his hands in his hair." Another sip. No traces left this time. "And, as exhilarating as I find it, it would require finding one first. As we are bereft of one at the moment, I will simply express how much I appreciate this little women''s reunion of ours."

    Was this how it felt to be surrounded by people you appreciated and who appreciated you back? The half-elf was very much reminded of the times spent with Rufus, albeit with less silence and more food eaten. No matter how hard he tried to keep her company, the patron deity of the Theocracy had never been able to be much of an eating companion, for obvious natural impediments.

    ''Grumpy old man. I must pay him a visit as soon as possible, to see how he''s doing. Already I can hear him complaining about aching bones and my lack of discipline. And waste time in endless tirades about the Gods and heroes of the past¡­ I miss him.''

    Having friends and family was... strange. Not that Antilene hadn''t had any in the past. It wasn''t that their memory wasn''t still present in her, but now there was something missing that, at the same time, gave a welcome feeling of lightness.

    Bizarre. No better word to describe it.

    "Back to important matters. Orcneas intends to surrender and get in our way, a mad general wants to scalp me, and the most important city in the land is in enemy hands. Do you know what I call this?"

    "Not the best of Sundays?"

    "A big headache?"

    "Nice. You were almost there¡­" Pause for dramatic effect.

    A little more.

    It was important to raise expectations.

    Was this taking too long?

    What if the conclusion was disappointing?

    "A prelude to a great event."

    "What do you mean?" Kista''s curious expression was welcome.

    "The message from the Equestrian King gave me a lot to think about. So pompous, so false. You have been at war for how long now? Years? He knows Karnasus will be our next destination. It''s mathematical. Until it is liberated, the Union will have an enemy stronghold in the heart of its territory, making any possible offensive doomed from the start. So he''s inviting us to dinner, the table already set, he''s certainly called his best cooks and requested the most succulent meals."

    "And we will then decline this lavish gala?" Agravaine indulged in an apple, which made the formerly rich breakfast now decidedly abundant. "We will not be so foolish as to fall into the lion''s jaws, will we?"

    "On the contrary, my dear sister. It is impolite to decline such a well-planned invitation. We shall show this lion to be careful what you put in your mouth," the last bite of the omelet was taken at that very moment, "or you run the risk of losing all your teeth." Concluded the half-elf, still chewing.

    "I am not entirely convinced. Perhaps it would be better to accept?" Fortunately, Kista had no problem admitting her grievances. More than one Black Scripture member could have learned from her. "However... if the naval blockade really comes... we''ll find our hands tied."

    "Exactly," Antilene was happy to see that they understood each other perfectly. "A blitzkrieg. You won''t have time to say ''duck soup''. Touch and go, before the enemy has time to get organized and squeeze us in a vise. Who knows. The Equestrian King himself might be there."

    "And that could end the war in one fell swoop," a tantalizing prospect. Kista, nevertheless, grew gloomy, letting the muscles of her forehead incipitate. "But... are you sure you can beat him? The stories that go around about the Equestrian King... it seems that before he gathered all the great tribes he single-handedly destroyed entire armies and tamed the greatest warriors in those areas. His bow was forged in the scorching sun and his aim never misses a shot. Against us, he never went into battle, but only because he never needed it."

    Antilene shrugged her shoulders, avoiding bandaging the head before wounding herself. "If I don''t face him, I''ll never know. Having as much information about him as possible would certainly help. But judging on the level of his Immortals, I''d say there''s nothing to worry about."

    "Besides, sister, you also exterminated an entire army. Will the ones this Equestrian King has eliminated be comparable to yours?"

    Antilene felt the tip of her nose blush. "Better to leave men to measure the size of their armies." She rose from the table, stretching her sleepy muscles from immobility. "We will have to ask our prisoner to tell us more. Do you know where he is right now, Kista?"

    The formalities had taken less than expected to be abandoned.

    The mayoress sighed, defeated, but also somewhat satisfied. Her shrewd eyes opened with delicate clearness, quite the opposite of those of the half-elf that still demanded further rest. "We should ask the Queen. Just as we are her guests at the moment, Lord Tiribazus should also be in her care. What remains of him, at least."

    "There will be enough left, I had recommended not to scramble him too much when we handed him over." Let it not be said that the Elf Queen did not have the good taste to treat her guests with consideration. "Let''s head to our hostess, so we can also be updated on the preparations for the assault."

    "I''ll stay here and give Melody and Etienne a hand. I will see you when you return."

    It was understandable why Agravaine preferred to stay in the room. Antilene did not need to inquire further, letting the thumbs-up gesture be answered enough.

    After preparing herself, the half-elf and the mayoress were able to make their way to the throne room. Normally, it would have been good etiquette to announce themselves and wait for the Queen to receive them, but while on their way, they had encountered Mirina heading in the same direction from which they had departed.

    "Have you read the Emperor''s message?" The Dark Knight was leading them with celerity towards their destination, not making a single sound in the heavy armor she was clad in. The temptation to see her wearing something different was strong, but Antilene avoided venturing a comment that might be seen as impolite. "The Queen has not stopped laughing since this morning. I swear on the family crest, I''ve never seen her in such good spirits."

    "Do you have any idea what such hilarity came from?" Seeing Kista and their escort hand in hand the half-elf had the uncomfortable feeling of being in the way. On a romantic evening, she would have been perfect as a candle. "I mean, when I read it I admit that getting a good laugh was not the first of my thoughts."

    "I think Queen Kirke is up for a challenge. The more difficult something proves to be to achieve, the more she is inclined to wrest it by force. That''s why she gathered so many talents and had no problem continuing the war." Arriving at the great gateway that guarded the throne room, Mirina paused for a moment, letting Kista and Antilene mirror themselves in her large black eyes. "I don''t know if I share this way of seeing things. As a knight, I was taught that using the sword should be the last choice, when every other option is precluded."

    "War as an extreme ratio. One of the cardinal principles of the Mother Law." Kista caressed her beloved''s hands, to give her strength. "But, unfortunately, we have come to this point because we are left with no choice but to surrender. The nation''s fathers would not have wanted this, I am sure."

    "...I wonder about that."

    "Lady Mirina, when the time must come, will you be ready to let the sword ring out?" Antilene was not keen on being tough, yet she did it anyway. "You or them. There is no compromise."

    Behind the apparent weakness lurked the fiercest ardor. "I am ready." She stroked Kista''s cheek. The woman did not have to mind the cold touch of the iron-reinforced glove. "Let us enter."

    The doors swung open, heralding their arrival with a metallic sound.

    The same scaly servant that had served Antilene in her previous visit stood at her mistress'' side. From him the salty smell of the sea came, and the fury of the waves could be heard in his voice.

    "My Queen, the Queen of the Elves and Bebard''s spokeswoman begs for an audience," there was in his words an ancient and lost echo, that of times lost long ago. In his youth, which was not marked by the stirrings of naivety and recklessness, there was the will of the devoted servant and the authoritative master. "Are you ready to receive them?"

    The Queen of Ris was there, waiting for¡­ something. Not them, no, for her intentions were inscrutable. "Come, my children. Come, my sisters. You took less time than expected." Dressed in an inconspicuous tunic, with just a few ruby-coloured strands that gave it that minimum of royal dignity, the hag spoke with firmness. "I am glad to see you here with us." So much of her body seemed decrepit and on the verge of leaving this world, so much of her spirit imposed itself as an ethereal, unmovable force.

    "Lady Fouche, or do you prefer Lady Antilene? And Kista, my dear. Please take your seats." And she pointed them to small thrones, used by the nobility and great officials at times of assembly. Now, perennially empty.

    Even Ris counted its losses.

    "Lady Antilene will suffice." The half-elf had by now grown accustomed to that benevolent union of lips. If something had been hidden beyond it, it would have been discovered in due course. "Personally, standing will do just fine. I see you are not alone."

    Erya moved just a few centimeters, enough not to make the distance too impertinent from both Queens.

    "You look well, Lady Antilene," his hand always placed on the sword of law, as if waiting for just the right pretext to be able to unsheathe it. Soon his expectations would not be disappointed. "Magnificent as ever. Beautiful and... ambitious. When might I have the pleasure of fencing with you? Conquering strong adversaries is the utmost aspiration for those that follow our path."

    "One thing at a time, my dear Erya," the old hag laid a hand on his shoulder. The young swordsman did not retreat, but it was clear from the flicker in his pupils that he wished he was anywhere else but there, in any other position than his present one. "We have more to talk about now, don''t we? I think I have guessed the reason that brings you here. I assume you were also delighted with the missive received this morning."

    The Queen must have noticed, for she slid her skeletal fingers down to the bottom of his shoulder blade, with plenitude and... desire? It was indeed more than simple friendship and affection that conditioned that motion. There was a certain intimacy seeping from the touch, whether reciprocated, it was all too easy to determine. Only then did Antilene notice that her countryman''s skin had begun to lose that perfect connotation and become... more blurred, more gray. To a less attentive eye it would have been natural for those details to escape.

    ''Now it all makes sense. An exchange of swords, in every sense.''

    To her gaze, however, the nature of that relationship began to unfold like the most trivial of truths.

    "Kista has been very diligent." Young flesh and old flesh joined in a dance that bore the hallmarks of the mellifluous aberration. The problem with fantasy was that all it took was a little teasing, and it led to places that were better left to themselves. "My breakfast was enlivened by a good dose of goat''s milk and a reading that had heroic and farcical flavors. Truly special. I only regret that there was no jester who could recite it before my eyes."

    "Remind me, I''ll see to it as soon as possible. You humans are so skilled as clowns that it won''t be difficult to find one somewhere" Now that they were so close, by Erya''s good grace, Antilene cast her shadow over the dull face... but still full of a devilish lifeblood. "Moving on to more important matters, by now that leaflet will have been delivered to every embassy in the Union. It is important to act as soon as possible, before our few allies change their minds again."

    With the image produced by her imagination still attached, the half-elf held back an expression of disgust, searching... again and again, until she found it acceptable... to appear as imperturbable as possible. "Ironic. I had shared that exact idea with Kista."

    "It''s amazing how often you two seem to be on the same wavelength."

    Pretending not to have heard her, Antilene resumed with her discourse. "Have the preparations been implemented these days?"

    "Sir Niles and his men are already in place. We have divided the few soldiers we have into small squads that will infiltrate the city. But first we need someone that will pavement the road for them."

    Attempting to take a fortified city alone and with so few troops would have been a daring feat. Ambition was the enemy of success, Rufus always repeated. Therefore, Antilene had been happy to take on a secondary role, however crucial.

    "Do we already know how many enemies there are in the city?"

    "Roughly eight thousand. Not counting the civilians who remained under the protection of the Equestrian King."

    "Can we trust these numbers?" Kista had started jotting everything down on a piece of paper, letting the obvious disadvantage not faze her. "If they are true, there is a disadvantage of eight to one. Against enemies who have proven more than once that they are superior to us. In the best fortified city in the Union. With another enemy army that could arrive at any moment. Not to mention General Chazos on the warpath. If we don''t take the city in a few days, we run the risk of finding ourselves surrounded on every front."

    The important thing was to maintain optimism.

    In this, the Queen of Ris and Antilene could have taught anyone a lesson.

    But even they paled before the confidence displayed by Erya.

    "Let them come." He was not surrounded by his elves, as was his wont. What had happened to them, Antilene preferred not to inquire further, in vain hope that their destiny was not yet sealed. Her plan was, after all, coming to fruition effortlessly. The pieces of the puzzle did not even need to be moved to get into that perfect position. "Quantity yields and trembles before quality. As long as I can deal with them in confined spaces without being overwhelmed, I have - we have!- nothing to fear."

    The firmament could have counted a new star, evidently. For the swordsman of the Theocracy believed he was blinding.

    The half-elf raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "As they say, there is no nectar of ambrosia that compares to the etching that the deeds of the great imprinted in the stream of history. The only thing to dread is having one''s legend reinterpreted in a manner not befitting reality."

    "Ahaha," an echo of a deep sound resounded from the old woman''s throat. "The eye looks, the mind processes, the voice conveys. In this chain, each ring differs from the other, albeit imperceptibly, until it is impossible to recognise the beginning link from the end one."

    "What counts is the future, not the past. When everything is abandoned, what remains is nothing more than what one deserves." The hilt of Erya''s blade gleamed with its own light, this time with genuine brilliance, claiming what was rightfully its. "See? Even Delfina agrees with me! Prophecies are self-fulfilling when those who forge their own destiny break the chains of fate!"

    The will of iron had spoken, and it had chosen. Who, it was not possible to decide.

    The scaly servant lowered himself to join his mistress, whispering something confused. "It was her... glory is near... the knot is untied¡­"

    "The bell has whistled, then."

    "Call the satrap," Ignoring them, Antilene let herself be lulled by that peace, for that little that it would have lingered. "It is time for Tiribazus to speak."

    "As you wish."

    The servant stepped away, the scales beginning to lose their stickiness, before he disappeared into the shadows the half-elf had the sensation that his face had changed, the surface state to split into infinite fragments. The song of the sea had given way to a tidal surge impossible to tame.

    "While we wait, there is something I think is crucial to establish," Kista said, "How will we infiltrate the city? What will be our objectives?"

    Antilene nodded, as curious as her friend. "I could climb over the walls and break into the citadel, but even for me it would be difficult not to attract attention and, at that point, goodbye surprise effect."

    "Attacking from above as well is impractical," Mirina followed up, Crocdabal glowering in its own darkness, as if not wanting to be outdone by Delfina. Was it blood or steel that dictated that rivalry? "Too few of our soldiers can fly, and the centaurs boast scouts and archers capable of spotting and hitting a swallow even in the deepest darkness."

    The Queen of Ris smiled, not finding it difficult to dispel their doubts. "From the beginning, we had determined that it was impossible to hit Karnasus directly. A siege would take too long. An infiltration by ordinary methods would have been discovered. But there is a secret, of which even they are not aware. No one is, except me and the one who whispered it in my ear."

    "Make us partakers, then." Antilene became authoritative. She did not like being so. But she was.

    "I trust everyone among those present. I trust everyone, but I don''t know if everyone can trust me. May I have this confirmation?"

    To whom was that question addressed if not the half-elf?

    "You may have it."

    No need for others to join that brief exchange.

    "There is a path from the valley west of the city to the imperial palace, home of the lord of Karnasus. Its memory has been lost, for too many dangers and monsters lurk within it. Lost, yes. But not entirely. It is from there you will enter."

    "To know this¡­" Kista did not conclude. "I see." The Queen''s gaze was sufficient.

    "How dangerous is it?"

    "Deadly. For those who do not know the precise road, too many beasts await prey for the hunt. And even for them, safety is not assured. But for those blessed by the blood of the gods¡­" The wrinkled hands gripped the wooden staff. "Fortunately for us, a gift arrived just in time."

    That gift had a precise name, Antilene thought. Hers. The Gods were not playing dice. The Gods had already woven that destiny from which it was impossible to escape. The Gods had already foreseen everything.

    Oh, how wise the Gods were!

    "Consider it already done." Put yourself to the test, that was the solution.

    Why do all this?

    If everything had been predetermined, every action was inherently worthless.

    If one was the architect of one''s own fate, why not run from the path that others had planned?

    Antilene looked at Kista, slowly approaching Mirina, the little space between them taking the form of a chasm whose bottom could not be glimpsed.

    Antilene glanced at Erya, the shadows of his -their- sins still covered the blurred soul.

    Antilene stared at the Queen of Ris, whose past was still a rope dragging her down, just as it had once done to her.

    A tangible desire to help was in turn rendered vain by an ancestral quest, older than herself... Of the dragon masters of the heavens... of those who had written the laws of creation.

    The sound of the strings of Rufus'' violin materialized like an ethereal dream, the terse, fast notes colliding and repelling in waves whose harmony described the mysteries of nature.

    When the satrap crossed the threshold, the music ceased. The suddenly interrupted concert was not, however, without its fundamental significance.

    The bariaur was in better condition than could have been expected. The hair was beginning to grow back, with small wads thicker than others decorating the sun-touched skin with little touches of white.

    He wore no handcuffs or other signs of imprisonment. The expression was calm and serene, the same as was usually seen on the dying face of someone who had accepted their end.

    "I understand my presence has been requested," his breath was unwavering, "on seeing such nobility I would usually bow in homage. Your lordships will forgive me if my present condition does not permit it."

    "The gesture is accepted," the half-elf reassured him, noting the many scars not yet cauterized on his legs. "There are many questions we wish to ask."

    "It will be my pleasure to provide answers, as far as I am able."

    "Under whose rule is the city of Karnasus at present?"

    Tiribazus looked at her as if she could not have asked for something more obvious. "Karnasus is owned by the Emperor under the heavens. If that is the trend, I have a feeling my presence will not be needed for long." In his stare, the haughty gleam he once had had been replaced by a miserable pity. Pity for him, of course. "I''d hate to return to my quarters so expeditiously, I haven''t managed to get used to it yet, I''m afraid. The furniture is sloppy, and very little light filters through the only window."

    "We mean who are those who preside over the city''s defenses."

    "Does it really make a difference?" The satrap scratched his chin, on which the stubble had recently begun to grow again. "Even if you could catch Karnasus again, it would all be in vain. On my way here, I had the pleasure of giving a quick reading to that exquisite proclamation of intent by my old ruler."

    The scaly servant -he who had led him there- sneered, continuing to remain safely in the shadows projected by the large door still ajar. Only part of his face was still clearly visible and -for just a moment- Antilene had the feeling that his skin was not a pale blue, but a fleshy pink.

    "If the emperor waits within the walls, it is over for you." The head of the bariaur dared to rise slightly, almost as if he wanted to look at the sun that had been foreclosed to him. The same sunshine that forcefully entered through the stained glass windows of the throne room. Unannounced, but not unwanted. "And even if not, it won''t take him long to regain control of that city. My only regret is that I will not live long enough to enjoy the spectacle... Probably."

    Antilene approached Tiribazus, just close enough for him to get a good, clear look at her. "You''ve seen me at work, haven''t you?"

    His confidence, so painstakingly gained, began to give way with ease.

    "Yes... but don''t think that you alone can¡­"

    "Who would win?"

    It was a question that had been asked before, in a distant time. In another life. Antilene was seized by that unpleasant feeling of once again repeating events that had already unfolded. Her path was a circle in which, no matter which direction she chose, the point of arrival inexorably coincided with that of the beginning.

    "... He would win." Hesitation. Just like then. "You are strong¡­" She could have recited those words from memory. "Very strong. But the Equestrian King -as you call him- is beyond logic. If only half of what is told about him is true... no one can compete with him."

    Erya snickered, certain there was no challenge.

    Antilene ignored him, her attention completely focused on the bariaur.

    "It is decided." Was the coveted challenge so close at hand that time? In defeat the true being of the half-elf would unfold. "Do not worry, satrap. You will not be harmed, for from today you will be in my custody until you see the day your liege will drop at my feet pleading."

    No one voiced any objections. Not even Tiribazus.

    "I am curious about this centaur. Will his legends be passed on? Or will my stories take over? He who shall fall, will be condemned to stare into the abyss for eternity. I hope your king is ready, satrap. I have already peered into the darkest depths, and these have drawn back before my eyes!"

 Chapter 44: The sword saint ballad (part 1)

    Chapter 44

    The sword saint ballad (part. 1)

    Like many stories, it started with a sword.

    It was a sword not like those that appear in legends. The blade had not been sharpened in the heart of magic and wisdom; arcane secrets were not enshrined in its iron; the materials that made it up had not been forged in the sacred forges of a long-forgotten god.

    Its history could not be traced back to great dynasties nor heroes whose grandiose achievements still echoed in the distant winds; it had not taken part in exploits that had entered myth; it would not be remembered as a treasure of inestimable value.

    It was a sword whose tip had been dulled, and the sharpness was barely noticeable. The handle had been partially destroyed, making it almost impossible to grip, and there was so much rust on it that not even the most skilled blacksmith would have been able to restore it to its former glory, if it ever had any.

    Yet when he saw it for the first time, the boy could not help but be attracted to it. The sunset, that day, silhouetted on the horizon as it had done countless times before; the central star heading across the mountains; the cold autumn evening approaching with the coming of the moon.

    "Leave it where you have found it. You''ll get nothing from that stuff."

    His father''s face appeared faded in his memories, only the muscles from a hard life in the fields still retained the semblance of a distinct image. The wheat fields... the farms... the hoe and worn tools...

    It had been a hard day. It was a hard life. It had been a hard existence, devoid of joys, full of sorrows. Of that time, almost nothing he could remember.

    Only that rusted steel, that worn handle, that point that could not even cut paper.

    And that silver line, which bordered on perfection. A beauty too difficult for his mind to comprehend.

    "Soldiers... Bah... They throw away everything they have, heedless of who might find it," his father had said. The voice of the time was certainly different from the sorrowful one now echoing in his mind, like a warning. "Leave it alone, Brain. Leave that life alone. It''s just stupid dreams, which will only bring you regret! Stupid dreams¡­ Only pain and suffering, and in the end what can you say you will have left?"

    "Yes, father." That had been his answer, which was followed by the abandonment of the now ruined relic.

    "It''s for the best. Trust me."

    But the temptation was too great - a fire had been lit. While his brothers and sisters slept... while his parents mourned their misery... while only the stars had decided to keep him company... Brain had returned to that spot, where he had found it... still left to itself.

    And once again, it was there, waiting for him. Destiny. That was what he had called it at the time. It was his destiny that was calling him.

    It was just rubbish, which could not have been worth more than half a copper coin. Even if someone else had glimpsed it, the inconvenience of incurring the original owner''s wrath would have been too great. Too great to take that risk.

    ''Only pain and suffering.''

    Had his father been right when he had uttered those words?

    Brain did not know it then, nor did he know it later.

    In hindsight, it had only been a fluke, a coincidence. That wreck had been thrown away because getting rid of it any other way would have been far too time-consuming and expensive.

    Although, perhaps, it had once had any value at all, it was now gone. When a weapon lost the purpose for which it was built - to kill - what was left of it?

    Only dust destined to be blown away by the wind, buried by the passing seasons, until it became a trail whose shape would soon be gone.

    With the moon as his only witness, Brain pulled his first lunge. His body, already toned by life on the farm, sculpted by hardship and toil, was opened to a whole new world. No more easy. It was no easier.

    The resistance of the air became an insurmountable wall where his certainties clashed; his lungs, already at exhaustion, were on the verge of exploding from the effort they were subjected to; his breath died in the throat, sweat became an unstoppable cascade, the blade stopped halfway, unable to end its course.

    ''You won''t get anything from that.''

    So why did he try a second time?

    The result was even worse than the first attempt. The handle was so chipped that it drilled into the skin of his fingers, making it impossible for him to maintain his grip. The second blow went even less far than the first, before he was forced to throw the sword to the ground. The blisters on his hands throbbed tremendously, and blood began to flow from them.

    ''Leave it alone. It''s just stupid dreams.''

    Before that, Brain never had a dream. He didn''t even know how to have one. To continue that life of tending the fields... growing the plants... the fruits of would have fallen in the hands of someone else... while everything he cultivated was ripped away from him.

    Like his father. And like his father''s father before him. Until then, another path was not even contemplated. Nor would it be now.

    How many brothers had he lost in the wars? How many children had his father buried after they had been sent on a mission to protect the borders from monsters, or had starved from exhaustion?

    Of those who left the village in search of fortune, few survived. Of those, even fewer could find their own place in the world.

    Growing up with nothing to call his own. Getting married to a woman he did not love. Bringing new lives into the world so that they could continue that endless cycle.

    Was this the purpose of his existence?

    His muscles ached. It seemed that every point of his body knew no sensation other than soreness.

    Quit? He had never quit before. Because there was nothing worth quitting.

    He picked up his sword from the ground, heedless of any wound it might cause him, heedless of any possible consequence.

    Only he and the rusted iron remained.

    Once, that iron had known splendor. At one time, that iron had carved out its own little space among nobles and knights. Abandoned; ruined, but not broken. It was not broken.

    The ligaments that held his being together tensed once more; the blood coursing through his veins churned in a mad rush; his feet in contact with the bare earth, in those shoes so broken that they offered little protection, welded tightly together.

    The world split apart, two mirror symmetries were produced by the cut. It was as if the trees themselves had been split apart, as if the air had lost its texture, as if nature had shown itself for what it really was for the first time.

    Frightening, but also so surprisingly delicate. An unchanged perfection displayed by his persistence.

    Brain collapsed to the ground, exhausted, but satisfied.

    His breathing became labored, but his senses continued to be alert. From his supine position, the glowing moonlight was the only sign of approval he had received. As his lungs expanded at regular intervals, an oath was proclaimed, in a low tone, whose pitch not even a giant could reach.

    "My life shall be the sword!"

    To reach that dark sky one day would not have been impossible¡­

    Dedication took over as the new mantra of that feeble existence.

    From the very beginning, it was a secret. Reconciling training and life was a new type of hardship.

    Countless were the times, when he thought of giving up; too tired to get out of bed, too exhausted to sneak out of the house.

    Yet... not a single training session was missed... not a single night passed without that ritual being performed again.

    It was hard at first.

    Brain tilled the soil, and thought about the sword that awaited him. The hoe that struck the ground became the point that stabbed imaginary enemies. The harvest that was gathered turned into desperate campaigns against insurmountable odds.

    Time for rest -already scarce in itself- became even rarer. Nothing remained but the sword.

    Even more ruined, even more pathetic in its now distorted form. For Brain it did not matter.

    It became easier, easier and easier. It took a long time before he realized it, but his blows became more precise, his cuts more elegant. The fatigue seemed to fade, and his breathing harmonized with his movements. The body also became stronger, more resistant. The farmer''s life was abandoned altogether; he had become too superior to others to be able to remain in that same pathetic routine.

    Eventually, he was discovered.

    Or perhaps, his father had known from the beginning, and had let him indulge in those childish games until the moment he realized that that was not the way for him.

    Brain was ready, ready to fight if he had to. Against his father, against his brothers, against the whole village.

    He would not allow himself to be returned to what he was before... to what he never wanted to be again.

    "If you keep this up, you will die."

    In his old man''s gaze, there was no anger. Nor any other feeling of rage. There was resignation, that was there. And an almost extinguished flame of a long-lost ardor.

    "I am aware of that."

    Dying. Dying did not seem so bad, compared to what would have otherwise awaited him.

    Why be afraid of what was not there when the alternative was far scarier?

    That they had killed him! That they had torn him to pieces! But they would not have been able to break him!

    "I cannot syndicate which path you wish to take." The father had sat by the son''s side, in that house too small even for just the two of them. "The life of a warrior... is not an easy life. For every legend that is passed on... for every story that finds its happy ending... a hundred, a thousand more, end up forgotten. As if they never existed."

    Perhaps that was the first and only time they spoke not as two strangers, but like a parent and child.

    "I don''t want to be remembered, father. I don''t want to become more than what I am."

    He would leave the legends to others; tales would not be written about him, being a hero was not what he desired. Taking his skill to the limit, even if it would then only be a tiny, almost insignificant point in history would be enough.

    "What is it that you desire, then?"

    "I want to reach the summit. I want to show that the path I chose had meaning, however small. Touching the stars¡­ is impossible. However, I will not stop to tend my hands to the sky."

    He remembered how much his father had snorted at that exclamation, how small his eyes had grown.

    "You are my son. How can I, as your father, condemn you to an existence that leaves you only emptiness?"

    "Better to become empty than to remain what I am now."

    In the iron he could find the only truth that mattered to him.

    "...So be it." His father had said. His hand had stroked his head, his dirty black hair, in an awkward, clumsy gesture. "You will have regrets. Many."

    "I''ll be ready for them."

    Nothing more was told, for there was no need to speak anything else.

    Over the next few days, Brain''s life began to change. In a small village like his, knowing how to wield a weapon was a rare talent and one to be preserved.

    Too many were the victims of wild monsters, and too much time was taken by the local lord to arrange troops or adventurers to put an end to the various dangers.

    With great effort, and under the advice of the village chief, a sum large enough was raised to enable Brain to wield a sword worthy of the name. His tasks were greatly diminished, to enable him to embark on the path of a warrior.

    In reality, given the meager resources, what he obtained was not altogether different from the now unusable blade he had been training with until now. The signs of wear and tear were also evident on this new weapon, the constant passing of hands having marked its history.

    "It will do."

    When he saw that unsharp point, it was not disappointment that seized him. Like that day, so many months before, he felt that that little piece was trying to communicate something to him.

    "Use me," it pleaded.

    And Brain listened to it.

    No longer having to worry about the tasks entrusted to him by his family, thanks to the help of most of the villagers, he was able to resume his training, with greater intensity and commitment than before.

    Not even the most devout of the faithful could compare to him in devotion.

    He stayed in the same spot, sometimes for days and nights, without changing his position, practicing and practicing again, to the point of exhaustion. The results, the improvements he could glimpse, would have seemed like a useless waste of time to outside eyes.

    "Why do we let that kid waste time if he doesn''t show the slightest talent?" They had insulted some malicious tongues. Brilliance, all too often, was not always understood.

    And envy gave breath to the mouth regardless of gender, age or social position.

    Brain ignored those voices. Every day, unfailingly before heading to the fields, his father asked him the same question.

    "Are you satisfied now?"

    "Not yet." The reply never changed.

    Eating was a luxury, drinking a necessary nuisance. The body of a boy just entering puberty, battered by entire lifetimes of renunciation and sacrifice, shone pure as a diamond in the rough, its luster shining brighter every day.

    The experience was molded by the monsters that tried to attack those poor little lands.

    Homeless goblins, with no purpose and nothing to lose, infiltrated the villages, trying to kidnap chickens and other animals in order to satiate their hunger.

    That time, all they found was a little boy not much taller than them, with milk teeth still on his arrogant mouth.

    "Unbelievable!" This was the exclamation of his fellow villagers when they found the bodies lying on the ground, traces of blood barely visible.

    "No, it is not." Brain had merely retorted, already back at his training station. "It''s not." He kept repeating.

    It didn''t matter what threatened the village. Whether it was goblins, orcs or bandits. Every single time, they found their end at the hands of a boy not yet made a man. And each time, the little boy would return to his place, sword in hand, muttering in a low voice: "It is not enough."

    It was never enough.

    Soon, the others realized this too. Just as the gratitude they felt towards him grew, so did a certain distrust towards the one they could not understand. They ignored him, pretending his existence was no more than an afterthought, justifying themselves with not very convincing excuses.

    "We must leave him alone so he can train and defend us."

    "That''s what he wants. If you try to talk to him, he will kick you out in a bad way."

    His peers isolated him, his brothers and sisters ignored him, his mother merely brought him food once in a while, always in religious silence.

    Ingratitude, perhaps. But it didn''t matter to him.

    His father was now the only one he spoke to. They were not great conversations, of course. They were more rare moments spent together. Of rest for both of them.

    "How''s practice going?" He would ask sometimes, not without some embarrassment.

    "Good." Try as he might, Brain couldn''t bring himself to say more, letting the unspoken communicate what he was feeling.

    Thus the years passed. The child became a young boy, and even the sword he wielded was replaced in time with a weapon worthy of the name. New, this time, the work of a blacksmith from a nearby town who had spent whole nights forging it.

    Even the lord of those lands began to take an interest in him.

    When the fateful day arrived, it seemed to be only a foretaste of what was to come.

    "Come work for me."

    When the offer was made, no one was surprised. Not even Brain himself.

    "Your talents will be put to good use, under my service." The count of the fief was an insignificant personality. Nothing about him stood out except his heavy breath. Too heavy, for a man accustomed to all possible and imaginable comforts. But in him, there was also a charisma that was perhaps not sparkling, but which was discovered little by little, with a certain amount of awkwardness.

    He was rarely seen by his subjects, and it was even rarer to see him address one of them. For many, that would have been something to boast about for years, to tell their children and grandchildren, in the prime of old age.

    For Brain, it was just another day.

    "Leave these commoners behind. The opportunity given to you is unique. For their and your sake, join me."

    The nobleman''s fat, stubby fingers had perhaps once wielded a weapon, as a fundamental part of that chivalric pedigree of which Re-Estize was so proud, but it was a past so distant that few signs could be revealed in the present. Now, they merely covered their master''s snub nose.

    His garish and fanciful clothes compared to the filthy rags Brain wore, threadbare and worn, so gray as to make one doubt if they had ever been fitted with any other hue, emphasized a difference in class that could never be bridged.

    What could a young boy possibly gain from joining such a man?

    Brain would have refused. If the nobleman had been alone, he would not have thought twice before answering with a flat no.

    But the count had not come alone that time.

    "Are you doubtful? There are many methods I have at my disposal to persuade you. Much less... pleasant methods." Brain''s silence had been followed by not too veiled threats. Towards those he had protected up to that moment, undoubtedly. "If you fear for the safety of your people, in the event of your absence, you have nothing to fear. The defense of these lands is a duty imposed upon me by the sacred oath my family has sworn to the crown. Their peace will continue to be guaranteed, even after you are gone."

    But that could not have been further from what the boy was thinking at that moment. His attention was focused on one of the guards, an old man with long black hair, with just a few strands of white, who wore, unlike his fellow soldiers, an iron shirt, whose rings sparkled like silver gems in the warm spring evening.

    "Fight me." Brain addressed him, trying to appear as humble as possible. "You are... different from the others."

    The man, who had kept his eyes half-closed until that moment, slowly opened them again, showing two small blue bottoms. "Boy, don''t push your luck." That warning was whispered, but not without ferocity. There was in the way the old man posed a cautious indifference, combined with dangerous bloodlust.

    "Ahahahah," over the years, the count''s laugh was one of the most indelible sounds Brain would ever hear. A guttural sound, not totally unpleasant, actually. Almost a resonance of the very soul. "You''ve got some guts, kid. I like it, I like it. Sir Nicholas is an old wolf, but his fangs are still sharp. He served for years as an adventurer, attaining platinum rank. And he served for as much time as a mercenary, in some of the most dangerous parts of the Kingdom. The fact that he is here with us now, with his whole body nonetheless, only attests to his skills. If he is now in my service, it is only because he was tired of the hectic life he led. Am I right?"

    Nicholas snorted, giving little weight to that praise. He held tightly onto the reins of the horse he was riding, ready to leave at any moment.

    "All the more reason to face him." Some would have called it mere arrogance, but for Brain it was something else. It was about opportunity. An opportunity to taste, if only in passing, a new world hitherto precluded to him. "I mean, wouldn''t it be appropriate for you to sample my abilities before hiring me as a guard? You don''t want to waste your time with what should later turn out to be a mere bluff?"

    The count plucked the mane of the horse carrying him, getting a loud neigh in response. "That is reasonable. Let us brighten this day with a pleasant duel. It will also be the perfect opportunity to bring amusement to my beloved subjects." Then, turning to the old man, he demanded, almost if he was the peasant and him the lord, "Sir Nicholas, that''s not a problem for you, is it?"

    Nicholas started to dismount from his horse. "It shouldn''t take long. But are you sure this is the right decision?" One of the other guards followed him, handing him a liner.

    "We''ll need every bit of help we can get when the time comes. Raeven accepted the deal, and soon... It will be fine. Just try not to scramble him too much."

    "As you wish, Lord Harold." Nicholas drew the blade from its case. To compare that splendor with the weapon wielded by Brain would have been completely unfair. Not only must the material from which it was made have been far superior to ordinary iron, but an overwhelming, breathtaking energy was released from it.

    The old man said something to the soldier next to him, who moved swiftly away from the two challengers as soon as he had finished listening.

    "Tell me when you''re ready, boy."

    Brain swallowed.

    "I''m always ready."

    Nicholas chuckled. "You get right to it, don''t you? Admirable."

    It was not only the swords that emphasized the differences between them. A necklace worn around Sir Nicholas'' neck enveloped his entire body in a warm glow, while most of his fingers bore small rings that sparkled like rubies.

    Brain assumed a fighting stance, calculating the proper distance that separated him from his opponent.

    "Two of three. A single touch with the sword is enough to guarantee a point. No need to make things too dangerous, don''t you think?"

    A deadly duel would have been desirable, but Brain accepted those conditions.

    The atmosphere that followed found silence for only a second. Brain''s right leg took the first step, covering the space that separated him from Nicholas, his sword traced a half-arc in the air, heading for the old adventurer''s chest. The latter, predictably, parried the blow with his own weapon without too much effort; the metal that shattered on the other produced a handful of sparks that spread to the four winds.

    Unperturbed, the younger of the two retreated, moving back just enough to unleash a new blow. Again, the result was no different from the previous one; the power Brain imparted on the sweep was far less, leading to far less recoil. With enough room to maneuver, and trusting in an haughtiness that would dictate his next moves, he made a quick turn on himself and threw a second slash, aiming for Nichola''s right leg. Certain that the old man would not have expected a blow towards such an unusual spot, Brain already anticipated the first point, before a sharp pain struck him in the side.

    "Not bad. But we didn''t say only our weapons were allowed, did we?"

    The knuckles of his opponent''s fist had made their way through his defenses, and, finding an opening recklessly left uncovered, made their way towards his skin, impacting with their pressure even Brain''s internal organs, who had to give all his strength not to roll to the ground in spasms.

    The old adventurer gently leaned his sword towards his head, giving it a gentle pat with the unsharpened part of the blade, in the same way Brain''s father used to show affection towards his younger brothers.

    "One-nil."

    In that brief exchange, Nicholas hadn''t even needed to move from his position.

    "Take all the time you need to rest and regain your strength. One of the boys can bring you some water if you wish."

    "I''m fine," Brain replied, once again picking up his distance. He settled back into his guard position, ready to go on the assault once more.

    This time, he had no chance.

    Nicholas was already on him, aiming a deadly lunge from above. Brain had the time and readiness to defend himself, but the difference in strength was such that he not only found himself forced back from his position, but he was completely thrown off balance by the shockwave produced by the impact.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    He regained his balance just in time to notice that Nicholas was at his side, ready to strike a second blow. The difference in size was the only advantage he had, and Brain took the opportunity to throw himself to the ground and aim for Nicholas'' toe. The tip of his sword was inches away from the adventurer''s shoe, ready to penetrate the fabric.

    Once again, he was certain he had won the first point, and this time too he had to see his hopes dashed.

    Nicholas, who until a moment before had been within his grasp, had disappeared, as if he had never been there in the first place.

    "Oops, you were almost there."

    The old man sneered, provoking laughter from all his companions.

    Brain could not understand. Nicholas had not just moved quickly, but had broken all logic to find himself at the starting point.

    Almost as if he had used magic. But a warrior capable of such a miracle would not have been possible, right?

    "Martial Arts. It shouldn''t be impossible for you to use any. But without proper guidance... it''s no wonder you were left to molder in this place."

    It wasn''t the first time that term was heard by Brain, but it was the first time he grasped its meaning.

    The warrior''s magic. The ability to bend the laws of the world using one''s body as a formula, one''s sword as a wand.

    A smile was painted on the young man''s face.

    "Show me again, old man. Show me how far I can go!"

    Nicholas approached again, this time aiming sideways. The first blow was parried, but in the meantime the second had already gone off. The intensity of the impact was replaced by a lightness of touch. Brain adjusted himself to that rhythm without letting the overpowering get the better of him. Indeed, never before had he felt such enjoyment.

    After a few more exchanges, he decided to go on the counterattack. Taking an example from his opponent, he pulled a hook towards Nicholas''s stomach, just at the moment when the latter was about to sweep him with a side slash. The damage done was not much, but it caused the opening and hesitation necessary to allow Brain to aim straight for the elderly man''s heart.

    Adrenalin soared, and the sweat-smeared face contracted into a grin. Nicholas'' sword, summoned by its master, moved in an unnatural gesture, first crossing the threshold of space to parry the blow, momentarily causing Brain to lose his last hope of victory, and then returning to its original position and resuming its assault, stopping just short of the cheek of the youngest of the combatants. A small trickle of blood wet the blade, mixing with the drops of sweat that continued to trickle down from his forehead.

    "Too bad, you were almost there boy."

    "It seems a new element has joined us." Proclaimed the count, amused and pleased by the result.

    Brain remained motionless. But there was no despondency in his gaze.

    "Old man. Have you reached the summit?"

    "Not even close, boy." Was his reply. "No. Even in my glory days, there were many who outclassed me. And outside this realm, even more were the monsters I could not even dare to imagine. Even you will understand, one day. What you decide to do at that moment will be the decision that will influence the rest of your life. And then... there it is, it''s coming."

    The soldier who had left just before the duel had returned, bringing a spade with him, probably taken from the village. Brain''s father was with him, looking at his son with regret.

    The tool was handed to Nicholas, who in turn handed it to Brain.

    "What am I to do with this?" The boy asked. His father continued to look at him.

    "Your first lesson," the old man pointed to the ground. "Dig. In the road you have chosen, there will be no time to think about your grave. Better to anticipate; someone else will tend to it for you. Unless you have second thoughts, of course."

    Brain looked at his father, evidently called as a witness. He picked up the spade, without any hesitation.

    And he began to dig.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Masakan Desert

    The beast emerged from the sand, leaving an imperceptible trail behind it. The grains slowly slid over its scales, at the same time as one of its three mouths, the right one, slowly opened its jaws, showing a string of sharp, white teeth. The mouth moved, slowly, while the other two remained motionless, captive in the deepest of dreams, until it stopped in such a position that it could make a single bite out of the closed hand of the man who had approached it.

    "Isn''t that dangerous?" A woman, her face entirely covered in long, precious silks, slowly approached Aeneas, taking care not to deviate from the tiny amount of shade the oasis afforded. "Desert crocodiles are dangerous creatures. Very few remain unharmed by an encounter with them. And even fewer are those who manage to make friends with them. "

    "Let Quaiesse do his own," Aeneas reassured, sipping slowly from the jug of water. Never before had that liquid seemed so precious to him. "He has not reached his position by carelessness. And he would not have my trust without concrete skills. I can assure you, Princess, he has nothing to worry about."

    "Hum... it''s nice that you give so much credit to your partner." Shaimaaa shrugged her shoulders, letting one of her maids hand her an enchanted cloak capable of filtering the sun''s rays. "It is a bond that would make many envious." She muttered thoughtlessly.

    Aeneas wiped away a drop of sweat -the young captain had lost count that day of how many times that gesture was repeated- as he sheltered under the only palm tree growing in that small corner of paradise.

    A wizard of the theocracy cast¡º Clean¡» upon him -another thing he had given up keeping track of- while internally he wondered why the Six Great Gods could not have descended in an armor more suited to the unbearable heat on the mortal plane.

    "Bond, eh. I don''t know if it can be called that." Respect, for sure. Trust, too, was an element that was certainly not lacking. But beyond that? It was difficult for their relationship to go deeper than that. As with the rest of his companions, after all. "Simply, in our line of work, it is essential to know inside out what each of us is capable of doing. As a leader, this responsibility is far more pronounced."

    Quaiesse remained focused, opening his hand slightly, not letting the gesture provoke an unexpected reaction. The fingers unfolded, as something unidentifiable fell onto the reptile''s tongue.

    In doing so, the Quintia heir remained cool-headed, as if he had created a space reserved only for himself and the animal. That stillness, however, was disturbed when another girl, with a graceful bow on her head, hurriedly shrieked with the utmost concern.

    "Quaiesse! Quaiesse! Your hand. The future does not lie! That beast will slice your hand clean off! Ohh, what a disgrace! How will we prevent your sister from finding out? How will our ears be spared from her sniggers?"

    The tone, deliberately exaggerated, provoked more than one laugh from the members of the company. Had the beast not been intent on savoring what was on offer, it would not have been impossible to see him join in that moment of fun.

    "Well, perhaps you are closer than I and you thought," commented Shaimaaa, straining not to be caught out, in what was evidently for her an unseemly act in such a situation. She brought a hand to her mouth, and her lips stretched in an unmistakable way. "Every day you amaze me, in ways I could never imagine."

    Aeneas was on the verge of teasing her about that oddity, only to ask himself ''what''s the point?'' and leave it at that.

    "I suppose it is."

    In the meantime, the crocodile had taken on a festive expression and was wagging its tail in a top-down manner, raising small clouds of dust, in a markedly different manner from the image it had been giving just moments before.

    "You like my preparation, eh little one?" Quaiesse had taken on a triumphant expression as his attention was divided between his new friend and Cassandra, who was fanning herself with her handbag in a futile attempt to create the slightest gust of wind. "I wasn''t sure if it would have the same beneficial effect that I have found in many other reptile species. Fascinating. Despite what some untrusting women may think, I still manage to have a way with magical beasts."

    "I just wanted to warn you of a possible future you might have fallen victim to!" She replied scandalized, without concealing the playfulness. "I could never make fun of you! Impossible. Absolutely impossible."

    Quaiesse ignored her, throwing a second ball into his new pet''s mouth. "In any case, I thought there were more dangerous creatures around. Leaving the nonsense aside, I didn''t expect only a small three-headed crocodile to be lured by my trap."

    Not far away, Rinaldo kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, although there was little to be glimpsed in the midst of that sand which, monotonous and without deigning to show a hint of originality, continued an endless repetition of dunes in that depression called desert.

    "I see no one on the horizon, neither possible dangers nor potential friends."

    Cassandra wiped her glasses, with a cloth pulled from her ever-present handbag. "Of course. When I proclaimed that no danger was present in the area, no one should have had the slightest doubt."

    Quaiesse gently stroked the animal''s scaly forehead, as he turned to Aeneas. "What do you think?"

    The Black Scripture captain continued to keep his eyes half-closed, enjoying what little coolness his position afforded him. "We have someone who could tell us every little secret about these areas. Why not ask her?"

    Feeling called upon, Shaimaaa let out an emotionless sigh. "There is a reason I asked to accompany you. Besides wanting to be present during the... let''s call them negotiations with the prince of Musaaid, my entourage is experienced in exploring the Masakan desert."

    And with no time to conclude, a feline soldier approached her, in the company of Silmi, her handmaiden.

    Evidently, General Bulgari had heeded his request, Aeneas found herself thinking. The newcomer, whose presence he only now noticed, had a hardened face and a lean physique, with obvious signs of captivity well hidden by the cloak he wore. He squeezed Selmi''s hand with particular intensity, as if he were afraid of losing it forever, should he ever have to leave it.

    "Yes, here," resumed the princess, glad to see the two. "Can you see, Captain Sourpuss?"

    She had a map with her, illustrating the Masakan desert with particular care. With the finger of her right hand, the princess pointed to a small dot, a short distance away from their destination. To be honest, even on the map one could hardly make out the differences in what appeared to be an immense ochre expanse.

    "Is this the place where we are now?" Aeneas inquired. Even while sitting, he did not appear much shorter than the girl. Their faces met almost halfway.

    "Exactly. Another couple of hours and we will have arrived. It has taken our people years to plot a suitable and almost danger-free route. Since there are very few oases, there are also very few beasts that dwell in the wild. For a long journey, indeed, the road would have been far different and less... peaceful." Beneath the veil, it was possible to catch a glimpse of a satisfied and... happy expression. A far cry from what Aeneas had been used to the last few days. No less pleasant, nonetheless. "Of course, the few dangers we encounter are to be taken into account. But luckily the escort at your disposal is excellent this time!"

    "You could almost say you like it," he commented, starting to share her good humor. "I remind you that the fate of your people rests on this mission. It almost seems as if the roles have been reversed."

    Shaimaaa lifted her veil, crinkling her eyes. "The mold that was growing on my body finally disappeared after I left that palace. My brother used to take me around these dunes when I was little. Just me and him. And¡­ well¡­ the royal guard. I know that for you foreigners they are places devoid of charm and beauty. I understand that. I do not expect others to share my feelings." There was a sweet nostalgia in her words. However, there was not that typical melancholy that remembrance brings. Only love. That was there. "And then... I''ll see your pompous ass get kicked in the backside in a few hours. There''s a lot to be happy about today!"

    "Oi, Captain, I bet a lot of silver coins on your victory. See that you don''t lose." From where Cassandra had gotten that notebook inscribed with the various bets, Aeneas preferred not to know. "It''s not as if just because a pretty face is hoping for your defeat you''re going to get all silly, is it?"

    "The Captain would never be capable of such a thing. I fear for the challenger who will have to submit to the judgment of his lance."

    Luckily there was Rinaldo, always a guy you could count on. A true friend would never have been able to... he had bet on his victory too, right?

    "Do you really think I could lose?"

    He struggled to get up. The temptation not to leave that spot was starting to get strangely bewitching.

    "No. But it''s better to be sure, isn''t it?"

    "I thank you for the consideration. It is good to know that you have such confidence in me." His attempt to appear sarcastic seemed more clumsy than confident. Aeneas had to take special pains not to snort like a misunderstood child. "I hope the sum won is at least high enough to justify such an attitude. And then... may one know with whom you have staked my victory?"

    The soldiers of the Theocracy were out of the question. General Bulgari''s elite troops were far too devoted and pious to sell their souls for such an unappetising return. And the lower ranks were not even aware of their existence, save for a few rumors blown out of proportion.

    "It''s not about money, it''s about fun! Do you realize how hard it is to feel any excitement when your magic allows you to predict events with particular accuracy?" That didn''t sound so bad, now that Aeneas thought about it. Far preferable to throwing oneself into the unknown. "Besides... our princess was the first to accept the terms."

    Shaimaaa had lowered her head, guiltily.

    "Don''t look at me like that!" She exclaimed, with more force than was to be expected. "We are talking about a saint of the sword. A sword saint! That''s not a title you hear every day. In fact, I have never met anyone with such a reputation. Is it not fair to expect something exceptional?"

    "Indeed, it is no small thing," agreed Aeneas. "Too bad we already know who it is."

    "Huh? What?" An expression of doubt was painted on the princess'' face. Curiosity also spread to her attendants, though not comparable to concern. "What do you mean? Unless... You don''t mean to tell me it''s one of your own? You''ve maneuvered everything from the beginning, to make us look like fools?"

    She certainly didn''t lack imagination.

    "That really would have been a considerable waste of resources," Quaiesse had let go of the crocodile and taken part in the conversation, yawing without a care in the world. "Wasting time on such nonsense? That would not have been the most efficient method to conquer you." He smiled. "There was no need for such elaborate plans, after all."

    The princess pretended these last words were not pronounced.

    "Then how did you do it?"

    Was instead her question.

    Cassandra avoided talking too much. "It doesn''t matter how, the important thing is that we know. It took longer than expected, but the identity was discovered a couple of days ago. He was the former captain of the Re-Estize guard. A certain Brain Unglaus."

    Shaimaaa confided in her cat-headed handmaiden for a moment, before asking doubtfully. "What is Re-Estize?"

    It was natural that she did not know, Aeneas reflected. Whether this was good or bad was not for him to determine, though his idea leaned distinctly towards one of the two.

    "A human kingdom, located north of here. The population is composed exclusively of our kind," Rinaldo explained. The paladin, more than anyone else, did not seem to suffer from the sultriness, probably also thanks to his magical abilities. "According to our informants, he left his position a few years ago, at the height of his fame. Why, it has not been possible to know for sure. We lost track of him a long time ago, according to our reports. Now, at least, we have an idea of what happened to him."

    "Your Grace, I believe it is the nation bordering the republic founded by the sacred protector," Salmi, the demihuman attendant, spoke with reverence; her catlike face curved in an atonal smile. "Your father always spoke of it, calling it a paradise on earth."

    "Ohh, I think I remember. The Republic of Arkland. Arfland? Something like that. The son of all that is holy founded it over two centuries ago, right?"

    "If we''re talking about the Platinum Dragon Lord, yes that is correct."

    "Is that what you call him? I suppose it makes sense, since his scales are said to be more precious than any jewel, and his luster dazzles even the most precious of diamonds. We would never dare address the one who saved these lands, reclaiming the city in the sky from the hands of usurpers."

    "Interesting," Quaiesse had taken on a more friendly and relaxed look, more than usual at least. Although it was hard to say for sure, Aeneas could almost call it genuine. "I thought the Eight Greed Kings were worshiped as deities in these parts. Do you not find that strange too, Captain?"

    "I had believed the same myself," Aeneas replied listlessly.

    "Some cities profess that cult, but the Diarchy has always had cold relations with them. After all, it was the sacred protector who founded the nation. Or so it is narrated. In any case, we don''t have a state religion, so we are quite friendly to everyone." There was a pause of barely a few seconds. "Unless they give us a reason to profess otherwise." She added at the end.

    A nation founded just south of the Theocracy, with few points of contact with them. It was all too evident what the intention behind that design had been.

    "In any case," Shaimaaa further persisted, "if this Re-Estize is placed near such a nation, its champion must surely be an exceptional warrior!"

    "He is a remarkable talent, no doubt about that."

    If half the stories Aeneas had heard about him were true, Brain Unglaus would have been a worthy opponent indeed.

    "Yet you do not seem convinced. Do you think you will win?"

    Aeneas felt his body grow strangely heavy. Every limb was in the grip of a strange and unusual sensation, which electrocuted his being with particular intensity.

    "... I suppose we will find out before long."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Life under Earl Harold took on a new meaning. With Nicholas as his teacher, Brain could devote himself to the sword as he had never done before.

    He was already in the prime of his youth when he realized that very few memories remained of his homeland. Sounds and smells that used to be an inseparable part of everyday life became increasingly blurred, becoming, along with faces and voices, an indistinct and meaningless amalgam.

    What was there, and what would always be there, was just him and his trusty companion. A companion that sometimes changed shape, size and sharpness, but remained, inexorably, always the same.

    Life at a nobleman''s court was not so different from what he had imagined. Unbridled luxury, beautiful women accompanying the finest food, the most sumptuous robes and the strongest ceilings were not what his heart desired, what his soul yearned for.

    Everything a man could desire had been placed at his disposal. Everything that could be conquered, had already been conquered; everything that could be triumphed over, had already been won. What was the purpose of such an existence? The nobles were born with everything, but for those who wanted nothing, their possessions were only tinsel before foundation.

    It would not have been correct, in any case, to say that the world for Brain had not changed. That change, however, had been heralded by the clash with Nicholas, and only then did it begin to unfold in its magnificence.

    Martial arts, the magic of the warrior. What was an established gray reality, for the young swordsman''s mind was a world taking on colors for the first time.

    "How to learn them? You just have to put in the effort and follow my teachings. Imagine your body is a board, and the sword the tool to refine it. Figure out how and when to cut, and imagine the result you want to achieve. At the beginning, don''t think big. Be modest. Simple. A small advantage, that is what you need, what you must learn to use."

    As a teacher, the old adventurer was shoddier than he ever could''ve imagined. Rather than passing on even the smallest trace of his passage on that world, Nicholas found it more fulfilling to get drunk and enjoy the company of the prostitutes who wandered around the guardhouse.

    The few times he was not intoxicated by the most expensive wines or playing dice with the other soldiers, there were meetings with the count. Always an endless source of worry, those reunions.

    "That damned king! Incompetent, there are no other words to describe him." Earl Harold used to maintain a certain aristocratic self-control, except when the subject of conversation shifted to their beloved ruler. Only in those moments did anger become the tutor of his temperament. "Boulloppe has once again trespassed on our lands. Chasing a band of bandits, he proclaimed. Such generosity! If all these bandits were really here, not even an ounce of gold would be left in the whole territory of Re-Estize by now!"

    Disputes between nobles were... complicated. For the most part, Brain was clueless about the intricate relationships that bound vassals with their lords. And it wasn''t his intention to change that.

    "Instead, the crown washes its hands of it, as always! If only that living corpse had the strength to make a decision. What''s the point of trying to maintain balance if each faction is tearing each other apart as soon as you look away for a moment? And that damned old man Pespea. He got the hand of the royal scion for his brat, and it didn''t take him a second to push us aside, forgetting the plans we had devised. If not for Raven, we will be without allies now."

    Brain listened to those conversations, mostly in silence, memorizing names and situations more to kill time than for his own amusement.

    "Will it be war then?"

    The prospect wasn''t so bad. He yearned to test himself, once more. Once more with an opponent who could make his blood boil. Nicholas was getting older and older by each day, and their sparring less exciting each new occasion.

    Brain, on the other hand, was climbing, little by little, up the mountain, catching a glimpse of that peak there, among the clouds, more and more every day.

    "War? You''re joking I hope. It''s going to be a massacre. A legitimate massacre, a punitive expedition to feed the bodies of traitors to the vultures. Our own, gentlemen."

    There would have been no band of men whose appellation gentleman would have sounded more out of place. Beer flowed freely in that room, more than a villager could have consumed in an entire cold winter.

    After hard days spent worrying, it was legitimate to drown those sorrows in alcohol. If one had to die, one might as well do it with a worn and ruined liver.

    "I''m telling you kid. In a few months we''ll all be dead. You should run, while you still can."

    If Nicholas was not the greatest example when it came to the way of the sword, he certainly was in the sacred one of drinking. For the first time, Brain learned to relax, if rarely, and take his mind off his fixed thoughts.

    With all that was going on in that castle, the opposite would have been almost impossible.

    "And what will you do, old man? Will you die with your master? Or will you run away as soon as you smell danger?"

    Every time, the adventurer managed to surprise him. Behind the incessant vomiting and reddened eyes, inevitably came the delirious cry of a man who felt the end approaching.

    But when it all passed, when only the stench remained to be unbearable, Nicholas'' words became short and heavy, weighted by considerations that it was seldom possible to see a personality like his even touch.

    "Someone like me has nowhere to run. I''ll stay here, and let the gods, or whatever way you decide to call those assholes who watch us from up there, decide. But you... you''re still young. It would be a waste if you were to end up like me. But, well, your head''s as hard as steel. I wouldn''t be surprised if you had to kick the bucket before me. In that case, I''ll have a drink in your honor too."

    "I am touched by that. I didn''t think you had to find a reason to drink. Is it the end of the world?"

    And Nicholas laughed at that. A laugh that came straight from the soul, or the guts, as he used to put it.

    In retrospect, both he and his rabble of no good had accepted Brain as no one else had before then. They shared his eccentricities and approved of his journey to the top. Men without a fixed abode, with nothing left to lose and with the tombstone already raised somewhere.

    That was the kind of person with whom the young swordsman found himself to be part of a group, part of something bigger, however small it was.

    And this made, perhaps unconsciously, the detachment he felt all the more painful.

    That night, his oath had changed the course of his destiny.

    Being out of place, even in a place that had decided to make you part of its foundations, was not easy to accept.

    But Brain was fine with it.

    No one could enter his space, that little corner he had carved out just for himself, without his will. And his will dictated that he would remain alone, forever.

    "You want to create your own martial art? You''re out of your mind! But if it''s you, maybe¡­"

    All of Nicholas'' knowledge was consumed in little, and in little was the time it took his body to adapt to that new fighting style. What Brain was looking for was something of his own, something personal. An art of his own, one that would push him to the very limits of that wall he so stubbornly hoped to one day overcome.

    "I have never seen anyone who has succeeded. By the gods, even those who passed on what I taught you learned it in turn from others. If you went to the Theocracy, you might have a chance. But foreigners are not well liked over there. Why did you put such a snappy idea in your head?"

    There was no specific reason. Why was everyone looking for a clear and concrete explanation for what was driving him on?

    "I have no reason except the usual one. To get stronger."

    Stronger, stronger, stronger. That fire had never stopped burning. If anything, it had become more scorching.

    In the last times of their life together, Nicholas also began to look at him with that look. The same one his father used to look at him with. The same with which every person he had ever known would one day look at him.

    Respect and admiration, combined with a fear of the unknown. What could not be understood was not necessarily a source of dread, but being wary of it was an almost natural instinct.

    "Boy, I haven''t the faintest idea. I''ve never needed to, and I have no more energy to think about it. Creating a new martial art out of nothing... Listen to him. The last one to succeed became rank adamantium, and one of the most famous swordsmen in the history of the kingdom. Do you perhaps want to become a legendary hero? The thirteen and their fights with the Evil Deities weren''t crafted in a day, you know?"

    "It''s not what I desire. The thirteen, their stories are of no importance to me. The heroes of the past are, indeed, old history. Mine is not a tale that will be handed down, not by my will at least. To be flattered by adoring crowds is not what I set out on my path for. Let the panderers be happy with that. I want more¡­"

    The sword could speak, at times like that. What did it say? For Brain was unique in the motif that was repeated each time.

    The dance could not end the moment the music had just begun.

    "I suppose it can give you some input. Find something you want to accomplish. I am not an expert in magic... but sorcerers jealously guard their secrets and arcane knowledge. If you wish to imitate them, and bend the mysteries of creation to your will, you must first understand the truths that lie beneath your essence. In short, what I am trying to say is ''imagine what you want to do, and then do it.''"

    "As simple as that?"

    "As simple as that."

    The question asked was the subject of Brain''s future queries and lack of answers.

    ''What do I want to do?''

    He stabbed the blade into the bare earth, and pondered.

    The first day, he achieved nothing. The sword remained in place.

    On the second day, he drew the sword. He held it, for so many hours, motionless, until he could no longer even feel his legs. This time, too, no result.

    On the third day, he could hear an echo calling him back. Faint and fleeting, it was made of the same substance as the howling wind. Brain remained in meditation, waiting for the sword to speak to him once more, for that whisper to become a thunderclap that would light up the sky and make the earth tremble.

    Again, no result.

    Days became weeks, and weeks became months. Brain felt his body reaching full maturity, the last traces of an unconsummated youth making way for an adult reaching the peak of physical and mental strength.

    The worn swords were replaced. Each time, iron and steel swapped places, being replaced by more and more precious materials, but the voice, that voice, remained the same. Engraved in the orichalc, imprinted in the muscles, flexible and unstoppable. If the gods existed, that was their way of communicating. If the gods spoke, that was the sound their message had.

    It was the same voice that Brain heard in the morning, when he woke up, and that accompanied him in the evening, when it was time to rest.

    That voice, which was not synonymous with madness, illuminated his every step. It was the fury of his ambition, which knew not the sacrifices of thirst; the courage of his ardor, the flame that burned at the beginning and would only be extinguished at the moment of the end; the loneliness of that life that would never be regretted, never be extinguished, for not even cruel and sweet death would be able to tame it.

    The world was divided between those who had nothing to lose and those who had already lost everything.

    Brain had found his art, honed after a thousand attempts and as many sacrifices; the loneliness that accompanied him was not a weakness, but a new hope that took on an entirely new and innovative form.

    His legacy was written in his blood; the pen was his trusty blade, what he left imprinted in the collective memory was his will.

    ¡º Field ¡»was born in that moment of infinite passion. For those who walked alone, it was nothing less than the longed-for answer.

    "Only I decide who may enter!"

    He had become both guardian and challenger. His technique was inscribed with the ambitions and desires of those who had defied fate, and yearned for a truth that was meaningless, but no less precious.

    Just as a baby just out of the womb needs all possible care in order to be able to walk on its own legs, a new skill also needs to be nurtured in order to fulfill its potential.

    The human soul, even in peace, knew the putrid cravings for power and control. Brain found himself thanking those malevolent excrescences, which once again gave him the opportunity to prove himself.

    Thus, the count''s fears proved to be correct, and war broke out in the lands of Re-Estize.

    It was not called that, of course. Men repudiated war, peace was the only moral imperative that dictated their actions. It was not a confrontation, it was not an execution, it was a bringing back of order where, no one would ever believe otherwise, there was none.

    A necessary sacrifice. An inevitable immolation. It would cause innocent victims and create new rivers where tears would flow. It was the right price to pay for serenity and prosperity. Foolish were those who closed their eyes and ignored how that calm they had enjoyed so much had been built.

    In order to climb to the top of the mountain, to reach the summit first, the competition had to be eliminated. A cruel and bitter truth, but no less inaccurate. Brain had accepted it, had made it his philosophy and his guide.

    "The royal edict has arrived. Accused of treason. And for what? For trying to open his eyes to the situation in the kingdom. Raevan, that snake. He sold me out. How could he?" The count''s laugh was hollow and spiritless, a far cry from his usual one. A last, almost mechanical reaction before his fate was realized. "Everything I built... destroyed. Unbelievable. I should have accepted Boulloupe''s offer. Even exile would have been better than this. But I have sinned. Sinned in daring to hold out hope. In the end, he was in the right and I was in the wrong. But it is too late. The kingdom I imagined is over. Indeed, it was never possible in the first place."

    "How many troops are we talking about?" As the last remaining general, Nicholas had asked the only question that was worthy of being asked at that moment. "And what are your orders?"

    There was no need to clarify who would be left. Those who were planning to escape had already done so long ago. Those who intended to betray, were already in the enemy ranks. Those who had remained, were only bound by foolish affections or bonds, too sentimental to be easily severed.

    "About five thousand men loyal to Boullope. Then there are other soldiers of small feudal lords hoping to get rich or carve out a little space for themselves. Idiots. From the moment Boullope and Raevan set their eyes on these lands, they should have known that nothing would be left for them but scraps. The main city is already in their hands¡­ and this manor will capitulate soon."

    "The royal guard? Are they coming too?"

    "Difficult. I think the king hopes this little battle will cause a general weakening among his proudest opponents."

    All that political talk was useless. Only one thing Brain wanted to know.

    "When will we start?"

    "Draw your sword, for it has already started."

    The siege began at the end of that summer, before preparations could be completed. It was not as it was to be expected. Mainly, it was a matter of waiting. Supplies began to run low early on, and the colder the weather began to get, the lower the morale dropped. Skirmishes on the walls were fought from time to time, but without a clear winner.

    Obviously, since this had already been decreed long before.

    "Coff... coff¡­" Nicholas'' coughing soon began to become noisily annoying. Of the valiant adventurer the image faded little by little, leaving in its place a decrepit old man. "It''s over, boy. They will come for us soon. You... you must run."

    "That is what I intended to do from the beginning." That was not where his end would come, of this they were both aware. The god of death would only be able to claim Brain the moment he decided, and certainly not surrounded by countless enemies. Intimacy was what he was asking for, for when it would come time to take his last breath. "I''m just waiting for one more assault so I can perfect my martial art even more."

    "How far along are you? Have you made it?"

    "I''m almost there. Just one last try, and I''ll have succeeded."

    "Unbelievable. Unbelievable. I knew you would make it. Maybe these old bones will see one more miracle, before they get buried in dung and end up absorbed into the earth."

    Miracle. Was that what it was supposed to be called? For Brain, there was nothing extraordinary about it. An ode to mediocrity, he would have named it.

    "What will you do if you manage to survive?"

    "I have a daughter out there. A young lady... no, she must have grown into a really wonderful woman by now. I wonder if I even have a grandchild in that village. It''s been so long¡­"

    "Do you want to meet her again?"

    "I doubt she would recognise me. And maybe it will be better that way. Nono, just knowing that she''s fine is enough. You, Brain, have a place to return to, don''t you?"

    "...Yes."

    "...But you will not return there."

    "I doubt it."

    The last sip. Where Nicholas had gotten that flask from, Brain could never figure it out.

    "I lost count of how many times I called you an idiot. Even if I gave you advice, you wouldn''t listen to it. I just pray you can be happy."

    It was not like him to pray. To turn to someone superior, to watch over your safety... it was not akin to the life they had chosen.

    "I will do the same for you, old man. I bet it will be your liver that will give you the coup de grace. Should I lose the money, I will visit you all the way to hell. This is a warning."

    "Bwahahaha. Bring something light. It''s going to be deadly hot, and I plan to stay there for a long time."

    That was the last laugh -the last speech- they shared.

    Eventually, the siege ended with an intrusion. A great pitched battle, a hard and costly assault on the walls, were just fairy tales, reserved for events that etched history with their importance.

    In most cases, men surrendered and sold their ideals and loyalty in exchange for salvation.

    At night, the moon shone.

    When the fighting began, the stars came forward, to illuminate the battlefield with their quiet light.

    With the first cut, Brain severed the head of an enemy. The soldier was young, as young as he had once been. So young, that his dreams could still be cherished and his hopes not yet dashed. What was one supposed to feel when killing a man?

    Self-loathing? That was an emotion for the weak. Blood was to be shed, for there was an offering to be immolated. But it was not euphoria that Brain felt at that moment. Killing was part of him - whether man, beast or other creature - and as such he accepted it.

    Each blow was one more piece added to the mosaic; once each piece was put in its place, the picture would become clear at last.

    "¡ºField¡»."

    It was not in the emphasis of a clash between two legendary valiants, nor in a desperate situation requiring divine help, that his art was honed.

    Brain''s senses did not awaken in a moment of pure ecstasy; rather, they completed a journey that had begun in the past, in the moonlight.

    Whoever entered his zone was inevitably cut off from this world. As the new reaper, Brain reached that longed-for peak. Reality was divided between those who could be saved, and those who were cut off. Discretion was in his sword, and as judge Brain found himself to be inclement, but impartial.

    They tried to overwhelm him with numbers, but there was no strength in quantity.

    They tried using arrows, but even those were too slow for his world.

    They tried, finally, to escape, but escape was a luxury they had renounced when their decision was pointed to the last attack.

    The castle fell, the count''s troops gave way, the latter was hanged, but Brain remained in place, unmoved.

    It was only when the moon made way for his companion the sun that he began to head for the exit. None of the survivors, whether assailants or old comrades who had found salvation in surrender, tried to stop him.

    "Old man."

    In his path, the lifeless body of Nicholas looked at him with unusual intensity. The still-open eyes seemed to mock him.

    Brain moved closer, to slowly close his old friend''s eyelids.

    Then he walked away, leaving Nicholas there.

    For him a grave was already out there, somewhere.

 Chapter 45: The sword saint ballad (part 2)

    Chapter 45

    The sword saint ballad (part 2)

    The streets of the capital were awakened by a fanfare whose sheer uproar soared through the sky as far as the empyrean; trumpets blared solemnly and drums drummed with titanic force among the houses and dwellings.

    The royal coats of arms of the Vaiself house decorated the very structure of a skeleton made of stones and wood with their scarlet red; the walls, tall and imposing, echoed the joy and clamor of the event from their height. In the safety of Re-Estize, men and women alike left behind them the cares of their everyday life; formerly gigantic in their drama, now meaningless in their insignificance.

    King Ramposa the third had proclaimed the beginning of a new golden age, now that the heir to his lineage, Prince Barbro Andrean Ield Ryle Vaiself, had come of age. With the splendor that would follow this new era, a tournament had been convened. A tournament, the likes of which had never been seen before. A tournament, to determine who would be the first to boast the title of strongest warrior.

    The entry lists drew the Kingdom''s brightest swords from all over the world. Masters and pupils, adventurers and mercenaries, knights of fortune and honored guards ran to prove that virtue belonged to one and the same: their own.

    In this festive air, in that air that smelled of sweet roses and gentle lilies, abundance took the place of decadence, proud and untamed; the grain flowed innumerable as the drops in the sea were too many to count.

    Was it really the new coming forward and letting the misery, the rot that had clung to the bowels of those lands be swept away, once and for all, to make way for a prosperity that only legends had known? The past concealed in its wisdom a warning: a warning not to repeat the mistakes that had already been made.

    Brain had no answer to those questions that crept like unwelcome guests into his mind, nor did his sword require those same answers.

    The way of the warrior was a way of renunciation, just as it was a way of excess. The body was honed, just as the point of one''s weapon, at once companion and only friend, was sharpened; and the mind knew the despair of others as well as its own. Death was the only companion with whom he laid in bed. His being, having become one with what was the goal, had become devoid of history and experience, except for the essential ones. A tree without roots, destined to wither before the others, but no less sacred for that.

    "Name?" The official had a heedless, almost annoyed expression as he mechanically proceeded to compile a list that seemed endless. A cog in a rudimentary machine, whose individuality was being sacrificed for a now-lost ideal of efficiency and rigor.

    "Brain Unglaus," a simple reply, for a simple inquiry. The swordsman could not even remember the last time he had had to provide such information. Later, it would become a much more frequent occasion.

    "Coat of Arms?"

    "I''m afraid I have none." No exotic flowers on his shield, no scary creatures on his chain mail. There was only him, and his sword. For many, too little. For him, enough.

    "An amateur, then. First time participating in a knightly joust like this? Are you an adventurer, by any chance?"

    "I have accomplished monster extermination assignments a few times. But I''m not affiliated with any sub-branch of the guild. As for knightly jousts, this is the first one."

    The official raised his eyes from the paper for the first time, looking at it with the same astonishment with which one would look at a clueless fool.

    "I can''t tell if you are more reckless or stupid. Are you aware that in this competition some... accidents might happen, right? Take it from someone who has seen his fair share of unpleasant situations. It''s not worth it."

    Brain pulled out a bag from the quiver he was carrying, which he gently, but not without decision, placed on the table. The clinking of coins inside was enough to attract the attention of all the participants who waited, disheveled and impatient, for their turn.

    "Are these enough for the inscription?"

    In his estimation, that amount of gold was enough to open any door, no matter how well barred. Greed was a universal key, suitable for every lock.

    "How did you get them?" In the eyes of the official, avarice was already dawning. Indeed, the calculation to establish the difference he could have cashed in had been extraordinarily quick.

    "Does it matter?"

    The bag was already tucked neatly under the table. Common sense did not always rhyme with honesty, a flaw that was easy to exploit.

    "Don''t say I didn''t warn you. Red group. You''ll be one of the first to show his skills. Put on an exciting show. Or die with all your regrets."

    "I will."

    First precept: ground.

    "Participants, state your name!"

    The referee''s voice was a mere echo covered by the intensity of the crowd''s clamor. Screams and cheers mingled with extraordinary order and precision, each waiting for its moment to intervene, with more force than the one that had preceded it, as if, in the middle of the beaten ground of the arena, there were they, ready to give battle, ready to entertain with their madness and exaltation.

    Calm and detachment were forbidden by the rigor of a perfect and pure law that towered over all other rules of men, foolish and incomplete in their imperfection.

    In the strength of the masses, resentment found fertile ground on which to germinate, devouring mercy and pity to the fullest, demanding the price to be paid for their enjoyment. A price that would be paid in blood. Blood that was not their own.

    "Sir. Pierre Angel Morel, captain-knight of the guard of his highness Lord Boulloupe, bearer of the coat of arms of the blue lily." Voice that made the earth tremble, an imposing body like that of a giant, encased in earthy yellow armor. From the helmet he wore, only a face carved in iron could be distinguished. The shield, tall and large as Brain himself, was decorated with three golden lilies. The sword he carried was undoubtedly the masterpiece of a skilful craftsman.

    "Brain Unglaus, warrior."

    He bowed slightly, not being reciprocated. The shouts of the crowd grew louder.

    "Kill him!"

    "Show us blood!"

    The sun shone high in the sky, heedless of what was happening below its light. Sir Pierre began to approach, his every step causing a rumble on the ground.

    The long swords of both contenders rose, offering an ode to those watching them, waiting for the first of them to make a move.

    There was a time and a place for the use of each weapon. The way of the warrior was to be able to spot that infinitesimal fraction of a second.

    Pierre was unable to do so. He advanced with his shield, impatient to put an end to what in his heart would have been an unimportant contest. The mountain approached, heedless of the fact that it was already on Brain''s field.

    From one thing, ten thousand could be discerned.

    Brain felt the blow coming, and shifted slightly, letting it barely touch him, almost a caress. The quivering of the crowd stopped, fading away. Pierre, whose expression could not be deciphered covered by his helmet, stiffened. The fruit of the lily knight''s training blossomed into a second attack, which knew no rest.

    ''To have mastery of the long sword is to have mastery of the whole world, so the principle behind strategy is forged by the sword.''

    By obtaining this virtue, it was possible for one man to defeat ten men.

    By obtaining this virtue, it was possible for one man to defeat one hundred men.

    By obtaining this virtue, it was possible for one man to defeat a thousand men.

    By obtaining this virtue, it was possible for a man to deflect the blow that was aimed at him.

    The flare of metal sang a song that reminded all that everything had an end and a beginning. The space of the arena swallowed Brain in a world that could only be observed from above, in the sky. The same sky that always seemed to be closed to him. The same sky that allowed him to look at things in their entirety.

    From his position, Brain''s opponent looked small. As small as an infant whose first steps had been cut short at birth. The swords clashed again, this time giving purpose to why they had been conceived and transmuted into this world. To be held by hands too small for them, but too big for anything else.

    A sword''s task was only one, to cut. And Brain''s sword did just that: it cut. It severed the difference of class, the difference of wealth, the difference that only those who did not follow the path could take into consideration.

    It was not Brain who moved, but his surroundings. A negligent breath started from his side and went up to his mouth. His opponent''s weapon was sliced into two asymmetrical parts; the force of the recoil knocked him to the ground, while Brain''s sword returned to its sheath.

    "What?"

    Brain stood there, motionless, waiting. His challenger, Pierre, unaware of his behavior, rationalized what he did not understand with arrogance, what he could not retort with haughtiness. The shield rose from the soil, covering with its shadow the figure of Brain, who slowly placed his hands in the scabbard. A soft clink could be heard in the silence of the now tense atmosphere. The audience, captivated by the spectacle, dared not interfere with that moment they could never forget in the years to come.

    And the great shield came down, with the force of a hurricane! It traced an undulating motion from above, finding in Brain''s body the perfect spot to arrest its downfall.

    The swordsman''s fingers began to move, not looking for speed. The rapidity of the movements was nothing but illusion. The quest for perfection was established in the accuracy and precision of the strokes. For those who succeeded in overcoming this ordeal, time was an infinite space where each move was accurately established; haste was a non-existent idea where calmness allowed each feat to be accomplished at the moment most suited to it.

    "¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»."

    In the way of the warrior, there was a timing for everything. In its prosperity and in its decline, in its harmony and in its discord. Similarly, there was a timing for in the rise of great civilisations and in the decay of mythos, in the new coming of a life and the journey to which death began to accompany it.

    Pierre''s time came, fateful, when Brain''s sword traced its path from his stomach; a perfectly painted line of red gushed from his armor, without smearing. The stroke of the shield came to a halt, leaving Brain time to take just enough steps to escape the trajectory. Then, as if by magic, the shield slumped to the ground along with its master.

    The swordsman approached his opponent, who was powerless at that point, and lightly pulled the helmet from his head. His face, in spasms and pain, was shown as a warning to all present.

    Brain bowed, and left the arena, as coolly as he could, repeating aloud: "Brain Unglaus, warrior, has won."

    Second precept: water.

    "Contenders, proclaim your names!"

    A couple of days passed, before the time to draw the sword came again. A couple of days passed, but the warrior''s body knew no rest in that pause.

    "Brain Unglaus, warrior."

    Like the first, the second challenge began with a simple gesture.

    This turn, however, the respect of the audience was evident. The murmurs of curiosity and anticipation were not a sign of disrespect. There was an honor that only a show of strength could confer.

    "Sir Louis de Castelmore, bearer of the purple cross and executor of the royal family. Prepare to meet your end, scoundrel!"

    An agile and slender body, armed with a luminescent pike. The royal coat of arms waved over his marquise, while a mocking smile completed that stereotypical gascon image.

    The gong had not finished recoiling, which he was already upon him. Brain nimbly dodged the first offensive, leaving himself little room to maneuver, just enough to return to the initial distance. The pike whirled, aiming at his chest, in an out of the ordinary, almost unnatural movement.

    ''Martial arts.''

    This time, the blood began to boil, as his neck barely lowered to keep from being touched. The four directions became a death trap. From the north, deadly crashes were launched; from the east and west, lunges and sweeps straight up to break his bones and tear at his flesh; from the south, blows aimed at his heart.

    The experience of fighting, according to some, was akin to a dance. When both contenders mastered that art, a rhythm was created whose notes were only audible to those taking part in it. For Brain, there was no music in those movements, nor grace or other beauty.

    It was an obsessive pursuit of speed and power; a honed technique with only one purpose: to kill. Because killing was Louis'' purpose, and Brain showed himself to be a suitable target to fulfill that rising ambition.

    Maintaining distance, taking advantage of the length of the pike, was key to that assault. In these conditions, remaining in a place foolishly considered safe was synonymous with defeat.

    Brain let his sword glide over the enemy weapon, a drop in the ocean, insignificant. Then, he approached, holding fast to his principles. As imperturbable as the sea in the morning, he could sense the presence of his foe only a few meters away. His eyes closed, as his vision was weak.

    What he relied on were his other senses. The sound of the pike moving through the air became a warning impossible to ignore, the smell of iron a guide for his sword. The touch that caressed the pommel of his sword, pervaded by a peculiar coolness.

    The iron of the blade slid over the steel of the pike and gently made its way towards Louis'' chest. The latter saw the blow coming, but did not have the wisdom to dodge it in time. It was a touch, a light touch, that wrenched part of the performer''s overhang, but put a halt to his run just inches from his heart.

    The beats from Louis'' chest were clearly audible to Brain, who returned to his original position, not even giving him a glance.

    "You yield?" He asked. His was not arrogance, just boredom. A far greater sin, according to him.

    Louis touched the uncovered part of his chest, covering with the shadow of his hand the rays of the sun that vainly tried to infiltrate that weakness. "Don''t you dare mock me," was his reply. Predictability did not make it any less vexed. "The art of war is a domain of those who have offered their lives to a higher ideal! Who have studied and accumulated knowledge in nobility and the spirit of sacrifice! You... what has a poor peasant like you offered, to dare stand here today before the king and those who lead us?"

    "Nothing of value. Nothing that can compare to what you have offered."

    He drew his sword again, for the time for words, as short as the most intense of fires, had come to an end.

    Once more, Brain closed his eyes. ¡ºField¡» was activated in the midst of that total absence of noises. The world lost its luster, becoming brighter than it had ever been before.

    Louis'' actions, this time, became immensely clear. Each of his blows was heralded by a small, almost imperceptible movement. From the grip that tightened before a lunge, to the breath that ended a stifled scream before a sweep. Brain''s sword was there, before his pike could even reach its destination, in anticipation of something yet to come.

    The swordsman''s fingers ran over the hilt, playing the notes of a piano that was different in form; everything remained the same in purpose, moving from controlled and adjusted intensity to simple and harmonious melody to that thunder that rumbled existence, pumping veins, severing arteries.

    The spirit of the counterattack was not the parry, or hitting harder, but breaking the enemy''s offensive in accord with its intent. And if Louis''s intent was to break through the guard, Brain''s guard was ready to be broken through; if Louis''s intent was to throw off balance, Brain''s balance was ready to be thrown out of kilter; if Louis''s intent was to kill, Brain showed equally vicious killing bloodlust.

    His blows were no stronger. His blows were no more precise. His blows were no faster.

    Simply, Brain had reached the future first, had won the fleeting instant in which he proclaimed himself the victor. The exchange that followed was a mere formality, a spectacle for the audience, which once again lacked the enthusiasm that would have been appropriate for such an occasion.

    Let it not be thought that there was any ambiguity, let it not be thought that when Louis was exhausted and his neck was severed, there was any ruthless justification for that gesture.

    "Brain Unglaus, warrior, has won."

    It was just the act that honored that encounter, the only way Brain knew how to give a just end to his opponent''s efforts.

    He marched back to his seat, with the sunset his only companion. No one would walk with him.

    Third precept: fire.

    The encounters that followed were devoid of emotion and excitement. Most of his opponents withdrew before they could even begin, too afraid of what might happen to them. Those who remained on the battlefield found themselves having to choose between a life as cowards or a life as losers. The latter, although preferable, proved no less painful.

    It was therefore to no one''s surprise that Brain found himself in the semifinals.

    "Brain Unglaus, warrior."

    The crowd, that same crowd that had previously mocked him, now exalted his glory. Individuality disappeared, when the group could encompass the number, hiding for the joy of many the embarrassments and betrayals; revealing shadows that were more honest than any light.

    The king himself, followed by his family, stood on a platform at the top of the arena. In Brain''s eyes that was just a spot that stood out little among the others. The gold of the crown, just meaningless junk; the scepter, a now empty symbol.

    Instead, his attention was turned towards his opponent, who this time presented peculiar characteristics compared to her predecessors.

    "Gagaran, pleased to make your acquaintance, handsome." With a physique that would have put even the most up-and-coming energetic man to shame, she returned his bow politely, the first shown to him since the tournament began. "Let''s make this show fun, don''t you agree? When you''ll be down, you could at least say it was worth it."

    Gorgeous crimson armor protected her, and a giant hammer her hands wielded. There was a certain frankness in the way she posed. Not marked by humility, for indeed she acted as a future champion, but a general respect for him.

    Brain smiled in return, with the same cockiness. "Don''t think I''ll go easy on you just because you''re a woman."

    "If you did, I would have been incredibly disappointed. That''s not what these spectators want, right? Let''s make it a fiery confrontation for them, one that will set their spirits on fire! And then, if there''s any time left, we can enjoy the two of us alone."

    "Humpf, an offer that will go unfulfilled, I''m afraid."

    "You don''t know what you''re missing. But perhaps my hammer will manage to put some salt in your noggin!"

    The conversation ended there, as the two began to observe each other in silence.

    Gagaran was the first to break that stalemate, launching into a seemingly unstoppable charge. ¡ºField¡» was already active, but the speed with which the war hammer came down upon him left Brain astonished. Nevertheless, his reaction came just as quickly. The sword swung through the air, parrying the blow.

    "Not bad." They said in unison. But the woman was already in the process of starting a second offensive. The hammer changed direction and rushed in a follow-up attack, straight at Brain''s defenses.

    He let the point come close enough to feel it, then deflected his weapon just enough to parry the blow aimed at him once more.

    They returned to their starting point, both without having sustained any damage.

    Gagaran pointed the hammer upwards again, and began a second descent. But, this time, the target was not her challenger. In fact, even Brain was taken aback when he realized where the woman was aiming.

    "Shit."

    A shockwave propagated with overwhelming intensity as the giant war hammer hit the ground, momentarily knocking Brain off balance. His feet staggered for a few moments before regaining steadiness, but by then Gagaran was already upon him, ready to smash through his defenses with a battering ram of power.

    Brain''s sword moved instinctively, but the shape and precision were discordant, and the impact caught him in the side, sending him flying a few meters. Darkness materialized, and a disturbed echo was all his ears heard.

    In order to triumph, it was necessary to be aware of one''s surroundings. Deceived by the flatness of the arena and its lack of any obstacles, Brain had forgotten that fundamental lesson.

    Regret, in any case, was not a luxury he could afford. Blackness was all he could see at that moment, but in his blindness it became extremely clear what his opponent''s next move would be. And his.

    He rolled, barely dodging the second blow directed at him. A sweep was on the verge of catching him at fault, avoided only by a timely series of somersaults.

    When the light manifested again, Gagaran had lost that jovial air, replaced by an ardor that overflowed with the same fiery intensity as that of her armor.

    The more they continued, the more the woman stood like an insurmountable wall. The cloak and sword swirled, charting north to south, east to west, in a tenderly lethal exchange. Brain''s flanks were the object of increasingly powerful offensives, as the swordsman''s sword tried, in vain, to penetrate Gagaran''s thick protection.

    After a few minutes, the result of which was unsatisfactory on both sides, the reaction that followed was almost natural.

    "Ahahahah."

    They shared that laugh, without saying anything else to each other. Only the two of them remained in the arena, and those endless dots without substance were only faded images in that moment that was exceptional.

    Brain resumed his position, resting his sword in its scabbard. It was an invitation, an invitation that would soon be well accepted. Gagaran turned all her strength towards him, as good manners dictated, this time leaving him even less room to breathe.

    In that situation devoid of freedom, Brain''s cuts could find a new path. He was placed close to the precipice, so that his spirit could flourish. To blossom, just when it was placed at the end, that was to live.

    And so, he let their weapons meet! Let them accompany each other in a gentle flow of violence!

    First, forestalling resulted in a fierce embrace. An embrace made of metal and sweat, where the difference in the thickness of the weapons shrank, became small, until it almost disappeared altogether. The war hammer, a weapon of destruction, met Brain''s sword, a sword that many predecessors had had, and many successors would see; making its own the firmness of earth, the shape of water and the spirit of fire. That encounter, which was the first and then the second and then the third, became great, became mighty, became disruptive!

    Second, came the fleeting moment, when Brain''s body became seer, and his cuts oracles of a future that had ceased to conceal its mysteries. Gagaran''s hammer was a book, the contents of which had already been written down and revealed to his priest, Brain, who had become inebriated with that prediction; and not satisfied with what he could see, as clearly as he had ever done before, he broke into the woman''s defenses with an impetuosity aimed at only one end: breaking. To break the spirit and the effigy by which it was portrayed. Each tilt in the hammer was a new fragment in the soul of his adversary, whose crystal form was increasingly fragile. The sharp glass of the fighting spirit shrank, after every drop of sweat, after every missed breath, into a piece increasingly unrecognizable from the previous one.

    It was an animal instinct, ruthless in its ferocity, thirsting for cruelty. But it was so liberating, so penetrating. The clash provided a new universe, entirely for him. The extreme and delirious gesture of an inverted religion, the search for an absurd afterlife, another world, through the god of the sword.

    Third and final was the last act, in which this intoxication reached its climax. How much blood remained in his body after that bedlam, Brain could not determine. What he could state with certainty, even shout aloud, not with words, never with words, was one and only one truth: that at that instant, and for that one instant alone, he was alive.

    Before fatigue came, before death knocked, it was that unstoppable force known as pleasure that loomed over all that had been created, encompassing in a mad laughter all that the Gods had crafted and loved. That their will had been done, then!

    Not even the blow he received on his skull was enough to bring him out of that state of euphoria. His blade, the only guide and the only half of his being, pierced through Gagaran''s armor in one great gash, turning to that now so familiar color.

    "Crimson was thy armor, and crimson shall now be the virgin soil that shall be bathed in thy blood," he said, slowly drawing his friend from within her who had pushed him to the limit. As a sign of thanks, with a hope of replaying that duel in the not too distant future, he whispered with what little energy remained: "Brain Unglaus, warrior, has won. He pays homage to Gagaran, his opponent!"

    The mighty warrior, exhausted but still in her right mind, accepted defeat willingly. Before she lost consciousness, there was an opportunity to make only one promise, which Brain would keep in the years to come.

    "Win."

    And Brain made good on that promise. He kept it, until only the desert would be witness to that oath.

    The crowd erupted in applause as the final began in the swordsman''s heart.

    Fourth precept: wind.

    The humble farmer boy had grown up. Having proved his worth and abilities, Brain had achieved a position that few would envy him. Contempt had become admiration and where there was hissing now there was applause.

    The reign of Re-Estize was preparing for the birth of a new champion, a new hero who would fit perfectly into that era of change.

    "Challengers, proclaim your names."

    "Brain Unglaus, warrior."

    Many had been the proposals from the nobles and enriched to have their blazons triumph over what was the new rising star. For them, Brain''s sword was endowed with a power absurdly beyond all logic: that of turning everything it touched into gold. Gold were also, evidently, their dreams that would be fulfilled, if only Brain would accept their proposals.

    But the path of the sword was one of renunciation and privation. Their empty compliments were promptly ignored and discarded. Everything Brain desired, they could not offer him. Their riches were obstacles for the wandering warrior.

    "Erya Uzruth, future champion and divine sword of the Slaine Theocracy."

    There was another reason for the growing popularity. His opponent, unlike him, boasted no Re-Estize blood. A foreigner, no matter his lineage, would always be more despised than the poorest of countrymen, at least by the ordinary population.

    But for Brain, those were irrelevant, groundless matters. On the battlefield, only one''s own hard-cultivated talents acquired value. And, most of all, that was the opportunity to unveil what the darkness of the kingdom''s ignorance had kept hidden.

    What was the Slaine Theocracy? A country whose past was widely known, but whose present was only shown through a few scattered scraps of information.

    It was a caretaker, first and foremost. The custodian of that origin about which philosophers and scholars used to wonder, searching for useless answers to equally useless questions. The cradle of the human race, present when it had uttered its first wailings and who would watch over it until the waning of its splendor. A labyrinth of secrets and mysteries, jealously guarded.

    They saw themselves as guides to all that was right and just, the executors of wills that exceeded the interests of the individual.

    And, most of all, they were the ones who had shown everyone what men were capable of. In a world of monsters and nightmares, they had prevailed on their own strength, paving the way for their fellow humans to a peaceful future.

    And now, there was a chance to see that knowledge accumulated over years of war and triumph at work.

    "See that you do not disappoint me."

    "I could say the same."

    Erya''s weapon was long and sharp, curving slightly to the right, in typical southern fashion. Brain recognised it instantly, though he had only heard vague and conflicting rumors of it.

    More than anything else, it was the way it was wielded that made him ecstatic. It was a balance between strength and dexterity, acquiring the fury of an earthquake and the readiness of a gust of wind.

    The first blow, foretold by¡ºField¡», was a surprise. Erya''s movements were different from those typical of the Re-Estize warrior class. The knights of the realm relied on their physical readiness and overwhelming strength. They aimed for the heart and the head, in a display of superiority.

    The style of the man of the Theocracy, on the other hand, was insidious. Like a snake, he aimed not where there was vulnerability, but where it was possible to create it. Brain found himself parrying in unusual places, like ears or shoulders, taking full advantage of the advantage his martial art gave him.

    It was argued that, in war as in all things, an inch gave an advantage. And Erya used the length of his blade to give himself that inch. It was a waterfall, its water flowing continuously; Brain''s body the lake into which it poured. After only a minute, the greeting had been made and it was not difficult to see who had the upper hand.

    "Is that all?" Erya strolled around the arena, certain of his coronation. No crown was placed on his long blond hair, but one could have said that his kingship surpassed even that of King Ramposa. If not in wisdom, at least in brilliance. "Where is the demon of the sword that has worked its way through bone and flesh?"

    Brain resumed the firmness of his stance, breathing slowly. "Once more."

    The way of the sword was one of renunciation. No renunciation had ever weighed on him.

    ''You will die.''

    As if to taunt him, his father''s warning came back to him.

    It was not death that he feared. It was inevitable. Why attempt to change that? What could be avoided was, the moment the reaper came, to ask himself: ''Between life and death... what have I done?''

    Winning didn''t matter. Neither did losing. Those were concepts foreign to him. Brain, more than anything, wanted to touch that peak once more; he wanted to touch that starry sky that had been foreclosed.

    The overlapping fingers on the hilt became companions of pain, while the firm grip struggled to maintain its position.

    Erya''s sword was no longer made of metal. It was lightning that ripped through the black clouds and crashed down upon him. Electricity flowed as the synapses awakened. What Brain was fighting against was not a man, but a fury, a fury of the elements made of muscles and nerves only to mock him.

    Was Brain the demon? No, he was not. If he had been, his blood would have stopped boiling, his mind would have put a stop to those demands for cessation.

    He was a man, just that. The tragedy that drove him to misery was that he could never be more than what he was. But, if those limitations led to regret, at the same time what was before him was made of the same limitations and passions.

    The inner side of his sword began to wear. Erya''s blade had become flame, the kind of fire that would not stop burning until there was nothing left to consume. Brain pulled it away with a cry of pain, letting the burns feast on his body. His arm, never so sore, struggled to stay in place.

    There was no rest in that clash. Nor could any have been expected. A second flare-up, a second clash between what had been forged in untamed fire and the star-burning flames.

    "It is over. Give my regards to those who wait for you in hell." Erya''s face was ecstatic, the same ecstasy that only slaying could bring. Brain wondered if it was the same expression he too assumed, before ending dreams and hopes.

    The bitter reality was that, in the same way he had broken aspirations, he now found himself on the other side of the fence. From the beginning, his had been a broken sword, which he had ruefully and pathetically tried to restore to an ancient -maybe never existed- glow.

    His voice pleading for a reason for all this resounded in vain within a sealed garden of piles of tender sins and hoards of sweet lies.

    ''If this is a dream, please don''t wake me up.''

    The temperature continued to rise as it was evident that the form was about to give way. Brain''s hands gave way, letting the fire burn not the only thing he had ever considered a friend. The fall of the sword was followed by a metallic sound, heralding liberation.

    The flames were on the verge of engulfing him, and yet, his hands moved in a frenzy, the frenzy of a new beginning. The skin on his palms began to melt as they grasped that primal force. When you chose to burn yourself, it was easy to stand the heat. And the second of astonishment it granted the now swordless swordsman was enough.

    A headbutt crashed down upon Erya, who, flabbergasted, drew back in pain. The auspicious occasion had arrived, or rather, had been created.

    With a swift game of hands, his companion had returned to its place, the only one that suited it, as if it had never left. The slash that followed caught the essence of the wind, and extinguished the flames that covered Erya''s sword.

    What they revealed was the same substance the swords were made of. The primordial source from which everything had begun had poured into creation, taking various forms. These had been mastered by the ones who, like Brain, had come to terms with their mortality.

    Strangely, gripping the hilt caused no pain. It was, instead, a feeling of relief. It was natural for the sword to take its place in his hands, and this was just the umpteenth proof of that.

    "If you think this is enough, you are sorely mistaken."

    Enya had wiped his forehead, from which blood was now gushing profusely. He had taken up his sword again, from which lightning and thunderbolts flashed like the worst of storms.

    "Come."

    Brain thrust his weapon into the ground, assuming the position. In front of him, he saw his opponent about to unleash his fury once more. Behind, all his companions he had renounced in search of an unattainable ideal appeared like a graveyard without gravestones. Each of them, indirectly, was trying to tell him that everything he had done had led him to that moment.

    "¡ºGod''s....¡»."

    Erya''s figure faded, the trajectory predictable.¡ºField¡» ran madly over every smallest space, trying to trace the blow that would follow.

    ''¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»''. Brain''s hands once more, it would not be the last, tightened on the hilt. ''¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»''. The stress of his martial arts made the swordsman''s heart pump a thousand times. '' ¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»''. The clangor of lightning shone in the darkness. '' ¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»''. In front of that power, the destiny of men was to yield. ''¡ºInstantaneous Flash¡»''. And yet... and yet... in Brain''s eyes that speed appeared as slowness.

    What he saw was beyond the veil of common sense. He was a man who had practiced the same stroke, the same toil, every day.

    Again.

    And again.

    Until it preceded breathing.

    And again.

    Until he forgot hunger.

    And again.

    And again.

    Until only nothing else remained.

    And again.

    Until nothing else was left behind.

    "¡º...Flash]¡»."

    Erya''s body revealed itself in all its weaknesses, in all the places where it would be possible to cut. There were so many of them. So many, that they made it difficult to choose.

    In the end, the Theocracy''s sword clashed with Brain''s. The former, still intact, shattered against the one that was broken, and the true swordsman sliced through part of his challenger''s chest. The triumphant fanfare grew louder as Erya collapsed to the ground, defeated.

    When Brain proclaimed victory, the only feeling he felt was one of exhaustion.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Masakan Desert

    Dusk was falling, and with it night was descending. The gates of the city of Musaaid Al-Lodi continued to remain locked, while the icy desert wind began to blow, heedless of everything and everyone.

    Aeneas clutched himself in his goatskin cloak, reflecting how unthinkable this would have been only moments before.

    "It is cold."

    It wasn''t aimed at anyone in particular, it was just a reminder, amidst that lull, that they were still there, waiting.

    "Will it take much longer?" Puffed Cassandra, also covered from head to toe. "I understand making us wait, but they could at least get us into a more comfortable place. One of their princesses is with us, after all."

    Feeling called out, Shaimaaa felt the need to counter-argue. "This climate is not a problem for me. In fact, it is welcomed. Besides, I doubt the citizens of Musaaid feel the same way about my position as you do. I do not blame them for that." Her brown eyes remained fixed on the walls. "No, Prince Hamza wants to show that we are the ones who should pay homage to him. Be patient, and the time will come."

    "Besides, it would be idiotic to let the enemy sneak into the heart of their defenses, don''t you think, Astrologer?" Quaiesse, as always, had a bluntly pragmatic worldview. "Prince Hamza, in this, proved wise. Or should I say it was his preceptor who showed such foresight?"

    The princess turned her gaze towards him, her face numb with a familiar weariness, the same that adorned awakening after an enchanting dream. "You knew, then?" There was a certain... innocence in the tone. Barely perceptible. "How much did the Slaine''s Theocracy manage to find out? How far can you infiltrate our weaknesses? Are we perhaps dogs, whose leash waits to be placed on our necks?"

    "Melodrama does not suit you. It is not befitting a rare beauty," Quaiesse''s smile was of the most insidious kind of poison, the kind you would notice when it had already entered your bloodstream. "We are at war, remember? And you are our prisoner. Honored prisoner, no doubt. But¡­"

    "A cage, however gilded, is still a cage. I understand completely." Shaimaaa retorted. If the eyes had been endowed with the gift of speech, they would have told different tales. "I bear no grudge for that, I can assure you. It''s just that my helplessness disgusts me. I keep walking, and I realize that the distance traveled was from the beginning only a paltry part of the palm of your hand."

    Aeneas felt compelled to intervene, not for any particular reason. Just... It felt like the right thing to do. And trying to do the right thing was what they were here for, wasn''t it?

    "Tell me about the prince," they had far too much time on their hands. "I didn''t get a chance to inquire, caught up as I was with preparations." Fulgur, the spear at his side, if it could have added anything, would certainly have unraveled those lies. "I only know his name, and that he is too young to rule. What else can you tell me about him?"

    So little did the Black Scripture captain know of his enemies, that the thought of delving into what distinguished them had hitherto seemed superfluous. So meticulous had been his study of war tactics, skills and strategies to be employed in conflict; so lacking had been his curiosity about culture and customs.

    Aeneas'' spear was the spear of the Gods. As such, it had no will of its own, except that which the emissaries of the divine will had bestowed upon him. An instrument had no need to ask itself questions. So it was and so it would always be.

    "The last time I saw him he was just a brat whose nose was dripping profusely, and whose hands were too small to grasp anything. His nannies had to keep a constant eye on him, for there were too many times when he used to venture into the most disparate places, driven by the curiosity that only a child can have." Along that avenue of memories, Shaimaaa''s face turned a peculiar blush, which made her barely visible cheeks even more vivid. "He lost his parents at an early age. The mother died in childbirth, and his father followed shortly afterwards. Since then the throne has been administered in his name by his tutor, a scholar of renown called Khaldun."

    No one yet crossed those doors, which continued to remain closed. The moon would soon make its entrance. Was that what they were waiting for? The asters in the sky held secrets as yet unexplained, secrets that could be deciphered and turned to one''s advantage.

    "That he was the one who killed the prince''s parents?" Aeneas did not know why he asked that very question, which came out of his mouth almost spontaneously. "He would not be the first, nor would he be the last, to have been driven by the lust for power."

    "I suppose it is possible," yet, the inflection of the princess''s words gave one believe that what Aeneas had said was on a par with a cheap jest. "But I doubt a djinn would be so interested in such ephemeral power."

    "A djinn? In such a place?"

    It was here that Shaimaaa could not hold back her laughter. For once, she was the one with more knowledge than them. "What are you surprised about? Much of that race was exterminated by the Eight Greed Kings, but the few who survived continued to serve the royal families of these lands. What binds them to their masters are not empty pieces of paper like our contracts made of ink, but sacred oaths whose terms are defined by more arcane eerie secrets."

    Roland approached him, murmuring worriedly. "Captain, this could be a problem. The last we heard of such a creature, not even the additional seat had yet been born. The little knowledge we have might prove insufficient."

    "Cassandra hadn''t been able to sense his presence?"

    "No. The royal palace was under extensive surveillance, yet nothing was recorded that could be a danger. Of course, there is no perfection in our means, nevertheless¡­" The girl gritted her teeth, clucking her tongue in annoyance. If Aeneas had gotten to know her well, she would have ventured that she was now cursing herself for a believed incompetence. Words of comfort were not his strong suit, but finding something reassuring would not have been unwelcome. "The way I see it, there are two hypotheses."

    The Black Scripture captain tried to maintain some control, partly to instill confidence in his subordinates. Being a leader meant that too, although many times it was difficult to remember.

    "Let''s hear them."

    "The first is that he used some spells that made it impossible for us to detect him. I would guess... at minimum seventh tier is a necessary requirement. That is the most dangerous hypothesis, but also the most likely."

    "What if he used copper?" Quaiesse interjected. The self-control he exercised was extraordinary, and the shadow of certainty he cast could have covered an entire valley. If anyone had thought he was the leader, Aeneas could not have blamed them. "It interferes with spells of divination and espionage, if I''m not mistaken."

    Cassandra looked at him doubtfully. "Hum, it could be. But only if our surveillance was limited to just a few glances here and there. Copper has to be present in large quantities to be really effective, and it has a frankly limited range of protection. Unless he had prepared a suitable room and was aware of our every intention, I think we can rule that out."

    "What if the entire building was made of copper?"

    Cassandra looked at Aeneas as one would look at an idiot. The girl''s eye sockets were on the verge of splashing out of the lenses of her glasses.

    "Eheh, I can assure you that this is not the case," Shaimaaa added, amused. "That would be most unusual, wouldn''t it, captain?"

    Aeneas shrugged his shoulders. "It''s always good not to rule anything out. What was the second hypothesis? I''m curious now."

    Cassandra regained composure, sighing faintly from exhaustion. "We picked it up, but we didn''t give him much thought. What I mean is, nothing about him stood out more than an ordinary inhabitant of that city. Considering the strong presence of non-humans there, that wouldn''t be out of the realm of possibility. It would be all too convenient, though."

    "In short, hope for the best but expect the worst." Aeneas couldn''t help but smirk. The troubles were multiplying, so what else to do but accept it? "Princess, do you happen to have anything else you wish to share with us?"

    "I''m afraid I can''t help you any further." Which meant ''even if I could, why would I do it?'' Shaimaaa''s good humor, in any case, did not make him particularly frustrated, far from it. "Seeing you finally panic over something was one of the most entertaining spectacles I''ve witnessed in the past few months. If I still had my wealth at disposal, you would have been richly rewarded."

    "Seeing you smile is reward enough."

    "Lame. Hitting on women is certainly not the reason that secured your position, captain."

    An heedless sigh came out almost instinctively, after that comment that was equal to a stab in the chest. "You always manage to hit the nail on the head, princess. I would be curious to see you try your hand at the art of the bow. Surely there is no target that would be too far away for your aim."

    "Or perhaps it is you who are far too predictable and close to my eye, captain." Was he really? It was to be admitted that taking others by surprise was not his best quality. "But such talk is for tawdry and idle parlors. Would it not be better to concentrate on what lies ahead?"

    Aeneas took another look at the city before them. The walls continued to be tightly sealed, in a quietness that nothing would be said to disturb. From his position, the captain could only catch a glimpse and an idea of what might lie within. Carpets of damask, of a thousand and one colors and shapes; palaces and mansions that concealed exotic and unknown riches; streets where only peace and harmony were known.

    Soon that peace would be disturbed. Ruin awaited it; the outcome of the duel that was about to begin did not matter.

    The righteousness of the Six was insatiable, though not driven by gluttonous greed. It was fair, and it was just. It was what was written and what would be professed. As their direct descendant, as the successor to that will, it was his sacred duty to enforce it.

    "It is not what you see." Shaimaaa, as if she could have read his mind, approached him. The princess, in Aeneas''s eyes, was the only one now living in the same plane of existence that he inhabited.

    The other members of the Black Scripture were intent on new plans, tireless. The others in the group were carrying out their tasks to combat an unrelenting boredom.

    The loneliness he felt at that moment was not unpleasant. Being able to remain locked in one''s own universe was sometimes regenerating. Like the white wing of the albatross on the monotonous breath of the ocean so, wandering to wander, went his soul in the middle of those dunes.

    "Here, you will be thirsty." The princess handed him a glass where reddish-coloured wine floated amiably. "Don''t make me beg, and accept it. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done so long ago."

    Aeneas hesitated, not because he really could believe such nonsense. "The idea didn''t even cross my mind." He let the wine graze his lips, the dryness of which only became apparent at that moment. "It''s actually very good."

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    "I''m glad you appreciate it. Take it as a token of appreciation for the work you have done for me." There was no sarcasm, which made him now certain that he had ended up in a world that worked backwards. He checked that his spear was still clutched in his hands, and not landed on the top of his head. Or somewhere worse. "Your comrades got carried away. They''re creating so many fictional situations they could rival a novelist. Seriously, are you guys really a team of assassins or a circus of traveling actors?"

    "We are not assassins." The second sip ended up being more bitter than the first. "We''re just... soldiers. With a few out of the ordinary assignments, but that''s still the gist. And, yeah, they tend to do it. As their leader, it makes me incredibly proud."

    Shaimaaa chuckled. It was a particularly acrid sound that matched the taste of the wine perfectly. "Call yourself whatever you like, but that won''t change your substance. Is it not for killing a man that you came here today?"

    "At this rate, I won''t kill anyone." The moon was now shining high and tired in the sky. Patience was the virtue of the strong, but it would not be long before Aeneas would begin to feel weak. "In any case, I do not intend to kill him, if it is possible. Only in case there is no other choice, I will do what must be done."

    The princess lay down on the sand, heedless of the grains that might soil her dress. "You are funny. You show no weakness, no wavering. But if others engage in this behavior to conceal their insecurities, you do so in an almost didactic manner."

    "Learning to master one''s weaknesses and fears is the basis of my duties," Aeneas said. There was no particular reason to give her that answer, yet he did it anyway. "I had to master it... in ways that were not entirely pleasant. Therefore, I will take your insinuations as compliments."

    He didn''t even dare to give the liquid that was in the glass another try, well aware of the aftertaste it would now acquire.

    "Are you afraid right now?" Shaimaaa asked. The way she stared at him almost put him in awe. "Afraid to fight. Afraid to die."

    "...I''m always afraid. How could anyone not be in dread of the marvels -and nightmares- this world offers? The opposite would be reckless. But there is always something that drives you on, to endure what would otherwise be unbearable."

    "And what do you go on for?"

    Aeneas thought about it, but could not find an answer that was satisfactory.

    If Shaimaaa had noticed, she did not give it away. "The stars are beautiful, aren''t they?" The princess''s face was turned towards the sky, towards the stars that shone with untiring devotion. "Wouldn''t it be better to stay and watch the stars instead of killing?"

    "...Per aspera ad aspera."

    "What does that mean? This language is unknown to me."

    "The Gods communicated in many ways when they came among us. Not in language, but in writing. Much of what they left us has its meaning lost, but this was one of the few phrases which translations remained. According to our sacred scriptures, this was one of the favorite lines of the God of Light. If I am not mistaken, it is an ancient proverb. One reaches the stars by walking rough paths."

    The princess'' lips curved into a smile. "Per aspera ad aspera," she repeated slowly, unable to reproduce the correct pronunciation precisely. It was no wonder. It had been difficult for Aeneas, too, when his teachers tried to get him to memorize it. "I like it. It has an almost poetic sound. Your gods were not just exalted ones, it seems."

    Aeneas didn''t even get angry at the little joke. "The Gods were wise. They knew things that only they could grasp. They made only one mistake, if we want to call it that. They showed us how great they were so we would never forget how small we are."

    Shaimaaa wrinkled her eyes, barely holding back a yawn. "I guess so." And nothing else was added further.

    A silence fell, filled with embarrassment.

    "You said something earlier," Aeneas recalled, just to put an end to the awkwardness. "''It is not what you see.'' What did you mean by that?"

    Puzzlement could be read on the princess''s expression, before the skin of her face was illuminated by the night light, in a timing that was almost divine. "Oh, sure. I meant the way you looked at the city. It was obvious you were imagining who knows what reverie lurked in those streets. It was a mirage, that''s all."

    "A mirage?"

    "But yes, a mirage. Something that was never there but you saw anyway."

    "I know what a mirage is." Illusory hope, alluring and deceptive promise, unrealisable dream. Who did not understand the meaning of that word? "But isn''t it a phenomenon that occurs with exhaustion of body and spirit? The journey was no cakewalk, but my lucidity was preserved."

    Shaimaaa stood up, shaking off the dirt from her dress with a few instinctive gestures. "Yes, all this is absolutely correct. But this is only a rational explanation. Ask ten different people what they imagined, and you''ll get just as many answers. This does not mean that there is falsehood or deception in what they proclaim. The Musaaid you saw was what your heart desired to see. The city I see is a deserted ruin, a far cry from the great metropolis that lives in my memories. Is it the same for you?"

    Aeneas hesitated, biting his lip. "I cannot claim the same. It looks like an enchanted jewel to me. An oasis where one can find rest from the hard life of these arid lands."

    The princess did not flinch, proud of something only she could understand. "That is because the desert wind has conditioned your mind. What you have observed has bent to your fallacious ideas. The exotic has captivated you, leading you to ignore the flaws that are so obvious. This is not a fault," she approached him, and for a moment the captain could hear her breath catching in his. "The world we live in is fortunately limited. A few steps are enough to get out of our room, a few years to get out of our lives... But suppose that in this small space, suddenly dark, we were lost, suddenly becoming blind... Everything would seem enormous to us and our world big, incredibly big, to the point of becoming impossible!...Impossible!...and yet one answer can explain everything. And then you will ask a hundred other questions, there will be a hundred other answers... you will see that the absolute does not exist one way or the other. A mirage is just a way this feeling can take shape."

    "Nonsense," why she was rambling, he truly couldn''t understand. Nor did he want to. If these were attempts to make him lose his concentration, then they were in vain. "It is you who have been caught in a mirage, princess. Caught in the curse of your rank. But fairy tales are just that - stories. Stories to lose yourself in when reality gets too harsh."

    She pulled away, letting him breathe. "And wouldn''t it be nice, living in these stories? I would not be a princess, on whom the burden of people rests. And you would not be a warrior... destined to fight until the end of your days."

    "I prefer to remain anchored to what is, not what I would like it to be." Were they perhaps drunk? There was no sign of intoxication, no wine so strong as to cause those effects in him. "I will fight to the end, for that is my mission. To have a purpose is already something many cannot claim, and I am proud of what I have been given."

    "Isn''t a dream perhaps enough?"

    "No, it is not. I -the Theocracy- yearn to disguise reality as a dream. I too like to believe in fairy tales, and if there were no such things I would do anything to make them up, but as long as there are answers given with reason I cannot help but accept them."

    Shaimaaa stared at him, causing him no small amount of discomfort. Then she turned her head away, as if ashamed. Which, according to Aeneas'' experience, would have been highly unlikely. "Once you are done with this mission, what will you do? When you have killed the sword saint, conquered the diarchy, eliminated the Golden King. What are the plans of the Theocracy?"

    Finally, there was no need to think. A relief more welcomed than expected.

    "I will go and perform my next task."

    "And would that be enough for you?"

    "It will be enough for me."

    "And when will you have eliminated every non-human in this world? Will you then be able to rest?"

    "At that time -if it ever comes- I will finally be able to say that my duty has been accomplished."

    "And when will it come to slay me? Even then will you be satisfied?"

    Aeneas tried to reason with her, but when he tried to touch her, the only thing he felt was too shameful to express. "I do not know what you are talking about. My job is to protect you."

    He was prepared to face furious anger, slanderous but true accusations. Instead the captain of the Black Scripture found only inexplicable resolve. And compassion, directed towards him.

    "I will do anything to prevent that. I will not let mine be just a stain on your biography. Just promise me one thing, protect what you believe in. Not what has been imposed on you."

    With the moon as witness, that pact was sealed. In Aeneas'' heart, at least.

    "Look. The doors are opening!"

    And almost as if they had been waiting for that promise, finally the predestined moment became ripe.

    Accompanied by stars that could not restrain their light, and the hopes of countless souls, the saint made his entrance. Without glory, nor honor.

    Only two swords were with him.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    After winning the tournament, Brain''s life took an unexpected turn.

    Warrior-captain, this was the new position created and granted specifically for him. For he who rose above all, for he who had only a sword with him, what better position?

    The solemnity of Ramposa the third was to induce a conviction beyond all reach.

    "Turn men into heroes," had been his command. "Create a team that had never before placed its sword in defense of the kingdom. The sacred treasures of Re-Estize are your new effigy, let the red of our banner become the red that paints the sky and bathes the earth."

    Razor Edge, the queen of all swords, was placed at his disposal. The handle was covered in gold; the blade in pure, crystalline teal. Was that perhaps the pinnacle he sought? When he held that blade for the first time, for the very first time, he felt an emotion comparable to the one he had felt years and years before. But there was more.

    Emptiness.

    Of that there was too much¡­

    The court of Re-Estize opened up for him, as it had never done before for a man of such humble origins. Unbridled praise and claims of belonging were his new daily routine. Nobles competed to claim his origin, fabricating stories wrapped in apparent mysticism; planting new roots in genealogies that before would have been called complete; giving his sword a dignity it had never known before.

    It was a world made of gold. Golden were the words spoken to him and shining were the favors offered. The life of the camps was so far removed from that opulence that one could have said they belonged to two distant universes that would never meet.

    Divine grace had shown itself to him. To him only, by any chance?

    "Master, how can I become stronger?"

    Climb, the bodyguard of the golden princess. A boy who cultivated an amount of hope for the future equal only to his lack of talent.

    Every day, the young man repeated that useless rite, seeking knowledge in Brain that even he could not admit to possessing. He was pathetic in his weakness. Insignificant, in that painful ordinariness.

    "Let the sword guide you. Balance your body, strike a proper poise. Make use of what you are, not what you would like to be." Brain''s advice was dictated by experience, but lacked pregnancy effectiveness. They could water a plant that had already bloomed, but not make something grow in barren soil. "First, learn as many martial arts as you can. Study as many fighting styles as you can. Your weapon will be your companion in the morning; your pen and reading will accompany you in the evening."

    "Will do!" His enthusiasm, however, was overwhelming. It didn''t matter how many times he failed, Climb got back up more than any other. Many abandoned Brain''s training -considered too ruthless and lacking in insight into his art- but not him.

    If it was possible to feel pride for another person, the new warrior-captain felt it for the one who was destined to fail the most.

    "How did you become so strong?"

    "Training first and foremost. And practice, to the point of exhaustion. Sweat shall become your blood, and calluses your new skin. The shield, your left arm, and your blade the right one. Renounce the life of a man, to embrace that of a warrior. Understand that you will gain nothing but broken blades. To find comfort in the path you have chosen, no matter how hard it is."

    And Climb - priceless in his naivety - always asked. "Can I, one day, become as strong as you?"

    It was a debt that motivated the young man. Of all curses, the worst. For it condemned him to a misery that was passed off as gratitude.

    "There is a legend, from a distant land. A brave and persevering carp managed to ascend the waterfall at the Dragon Gate, along the River of Interregnum, overcoming obstacles and evil spirits. The gods, impressed by such courage, transformed it into a great dragon. A dragon so beautiful and powerful that the others of his race immediately accepted him as a companion. His former self as a fish was erased, and only his might remained."

    "What does that mean?"

    "That with enough perseverance, even the most humble like us can be acknowledged."

    "And you... you succeeded?"

    And here, Brain remained quiet¡­

    But his new life was not all about constant training. It was a life at a king''s side, as his guard and confidant. In his childhood, the rare times he found himself thinking about the ruler of the Kingdom, Brain imagined an austere and distant personality cloaked in respect and dignity. A sonorous voice, who knew how to impose himself on everything and everyone.

    And Ramposa the third was as far removed from that fantasy as one could get. Perennially sickly, bent over like a hunchback. Age had not been kind to him, nor had the crown''s weight. His voice was usually low and weak, with coughing fits that became almost an interlude to his speeches. The poison of his pages and servants had spread throughout his body, shaping him more like a ghost than a real man.

    "Do you think I am a bad king?"

    And in spite of all this, there was a certain way about him. It was devoid of regality, although he did not lack it on occasions that age made it rarer and rarer, and little inclined to falsehood. It was a constant search for something to lean on, to be able to share and withstand the burden that had been imposed.

    "Your majesty is great in his infinite wisdom. As the representative of House Vaiselof on earth, his is the sun that shines in the sky, his are all the riches of the world."

    "This is what nobles and commoners say. But what do you really think?"

    In their intimacy there was a desperate need for honesty. Was he king or man, that fragile elder? His bones were like Brain''s, as were his flesh and skin. The clothes they wore could be different, just as different was the way people called them. But after all, behind costumes and ceremonies, they were not unlike each other.

    And that was definitely disappointing.

    "Do not ask for what you would not be able to bear, your majesty. I would end up playing the part of the villain, and that''s not what I want. You are a good king. If that''s the truth, you have nothing to worry about. If it is a lie, you should try to turn it into reality."

    That conversation was repeated several times during his stay at the royal palace. Each time, the king was expected to find in Brain''s sword that dark desire that had to be satisfied. Each time, the king was let down.

    Was his sword perhaps a shrine? Bells did not ring as his slashes cleaved the air, nor did the vastness light up at the call of his fury, which grew inexorable, confined in that palace cut off from the rest of the world.

    Was his blade perhaps a whore, ready to be sold to the highest bidder? An object of contention between nobles and riches, between kings and emperors.

    "Accept my offer. Follow me."

    The Emperor of Baharuth held out his hand, as many had done before him during one of the incessant border battles. The desolation of the plains of Katze seemed to match his soul perfectly that day. The corpses of the imperial knights, the elite of the elite, lay at his feet, as the survivors struggled to defend their lord.

    Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix. The Blood Emperor. The rising star. So many were his names. Nobles tended to collect them, perhaps in a futile attempt to be remembered. It was funny to think how, underneath the perfumes and delights, that unhealthy and putrid desire -to not be forgotten- was at the root of every personality, from the holiest to the most deviant.

    "Skills like yours are a waste, in the service of the Vaiselof house. Do you not yearn for something higher? That greatness you want, I can offer you. Priceless magical items, the best training grounds, the most epic battles you can imagine! All you have to do is swear an oath to me."

    Brain had never considered himself a complex personality. In fact, he could have called himself anything but that. His was a single primal instinct that drove him, heedless of what the consequences might be. And certain it was that the powerful found solace in their unrealisable promises and pretentious oaths.

    If they all knew they were so easy to break, why care so much about repeating them?

    "My allegiance lies elsewhere." Not with Re-Estize, nor with the king. Nor with the people, the princes or the priests. It was an upward loyalty that could not be bought, nor perverted. Pure. Beautiful. "You could offer me no more than I could offer you. That is, nothing."

    And he walked away, leaving him there. Over the years, he did not regret that choice. Was repentance part of his being? He had chosen, on that lost day, madness. He would live like a fool, fight like a madman and die like a lunatic.

    What more could he have asked for?

    ''Is this my end? To wither away, never to have found that light in which to be born? Is this perhaps the end of every warrior, to ignore life until the longing becomes too strong and then, when peace finally arrives, to find oneself renouncing everything, only to wield the sword one last time?''

    His thoughts, expressed in the darkness of his mind, were turned to the highest star in the sky, sister of the sun, supreme inspiration of dreams and mysteries. It seemed that reigning over the empire of silence, of peace, it was more mysterious, more solitary than any other: its icy white light always returned to renew the first impression: it remained in the thought as representing the night itself.

    From the window from which he observed the moon that evening, Brain drew a new torment, which, however, was not unpleasant. The endless day in which his existence was trapped was broken, allowing rebirth to take place from the ashes.

    He abandoned the treasures of Re-Estize, abandoned the riches he had amassed. He broke the bonds he had built, and severed all forms of brotherhood. Not that it was much, all things considered. But it was still something, however small, however insignificant.

    He was already far from the capital when he turned back. Never had he felt so light, and never had his spirit known fullness as in that act of renunciation. Journeys followed one after another, of ever deeper and more distant destinations.

    The pleasure of discovery knew no morals. Not out of cynicism, but out of simple curiosity. That, above all, was the force that drove men, that drove them to explore the inner and outer abysses.

    One path of blood and violence, another of heroism and compassion, both came together towards a single road. From the places where men had found a permanent home, to the unexplored corners where the influence of his race was only one among many, and the importance of his ancestors became less and less important.

    All the way to where the eternal was the present, to that place where dreams went to die, or perhaps only take another form.

    Eryuentiu, the forbidden city. The capital of the ancient world. The fortress of heaven.

    In reality, Eryuentiu was two in one, an inseparable dualism. The ancient vestige of the empire of the Eight Greed Kings, there, high as far as the eye could see; a fragment of an age that had come to a halt beyond all mortal logic and earthly need, including death. And then there was the desert city, living under the shadow of the superior one. Imitating it and besmirching it with the things that were of mortals. Feeding on the water that flowed from the springs, soiling those crystalline drops with their greed; surrounding themselves with empty tombstones and obscene beliefs.

    One could admire or visit the monuments, the forums, the empty skeletons of temples, the framework of buildings; ruins that, while undoubtedly testifying to the greatness of a bygone epoch, remained detached from the city proper and circumscribed by barriers and boundaries.

    The metropolis had grown bigger and richer, but remained tied to an elementary and coarse idea of living. Cynical, skeptical, lacking in ideals, material, obtuse, the lower Eryuentiu presented in short the disconcerting spectacle of a capital city whose main, or rather only, aim was to live by the day, or rather to survive, in search of a pale imitation of what was unreachable.

    "This will be perfect for you, noble lord."

    The art of commerce was the primary source of sustenance of that bedlam. The inhabitants were jealous of their secrets and knowledge, it did not matter how much these were only increasingly on the wane. The ancient and revolutionary methods of production of the world lords were now lost, oppressed by their own magnitude; what remained were only almost inaudible echoes of tremors that had shaken the earth. Yet, in those last glimmers of sapience that still endured stoutly, the power of the conquerors descended from above.

    "Is this the famous sword of the south? Katana, I recall you named it. A curious name, elegant and sharp as its point." Brain did not know why he had come all the way there, facing obstacles and hostile natures. He had heard the call of that weapon, and fast had been his race. Or perhaps it was just the games of a bored mind, desperate for something to stimulate it. "I faced a similar one in the past. Though the workmanship was nothing like this one."

    "Obviously. The forging method is passed down from family to family among the greatest craftsmen of the Eternal City. The Council of Seven protects our culture from attacks and forgeries. Of course they are not infallible either. But you won''t find a better sword than the one you might find here¡­" The merchant''s keratin-covered paws smoothed the hilt, mimicking those gestures of affection that the most expansive parents inflicted on their children. "Except for those guarded in the high citadel. But it is not a question of weapons in this case. What was used by the Eight was not comparable to what mortals can reproduce."

    It was always like that in that place. The merchants were proud of their wares and products, but they were just as quick to point out that there was no comparison with what was hidden in the upper citadel. It was an anxious fear of causing offense to beings who were no longer there, and even if they had been, would not have given them consideration.

    The Eight Kings of Worship. Were they the summit to be reached? What could they have seen, from their lofty position? How did it change the perspective of those who saw the world in its full; and those who were forced to capture those few pieces of a never entirely and defined whole, as he did?

    "I''ll take it. Give me more potions and amulets as well, the journey ahead is hard. Something that will allow my body to continue fighting, no matter what state it is reduced to."

    "Where are you headed, noble lord?"

    "Wherever there is an opportunity."

    "I advise you not to go too far into the desert. Rumors are circulating, rumors of war and ruin. A new king has been proclaimed, and golden has defined his reign and title. But it is not a dazzling yellow, the color with which he is building his kingdom."

    "I will keep that in mind."

    New conflicts meant new ways to test oneself. It was where atrocities thrived that it could be determined with certainty who was the strongest. Brain was used to taking part in spectacles that would revolt anyone with the slightest sense of compassion. A candle was destined to go out, without being able to dispute who it might illuminate. Why take it when it had burned out?

    So he continued to fight. Men, demi-humans and monsters alike. Not out of hatred or vengeance, not out of passion or joy. It was just the way it was. A continuous going on, no need to ask why.

    "Are you the human mercenary so much talked about?"

    Fame was a light that drew every moth towards it. Even those who, like the old woman who appeared before him one day, would have done better to stay away from it.

    "Who wants to know?"

    It had been a campaign like many others. His sword had been practically sold for a loaf of bread and some water. Just enough so that he could continue to retain some dignity. With others, and with himself.

    "How grumpy we are. It''s not just because I''m decrepit that I don''t deserve a pinch of courtesy. You''re gaining a certain celebrity around here, but I can''t understand why an old soldier from Re-Estize has stumbled into a dump like this. "

    He called her old, in his mind, but soon Brain realized that was not frailty or weakness shining through her. Piercing eyes probed her soul, bent with a sadness that only they thought they knew, masked by a smoky, derelict vitality.

    "I see you have done your research. Yet that is not why you are here, is it?"

    She pulled down the hood of the robe she wore, releasing the braid of long gray hair that accompanied over her head. Her expression shortened into a smile filled with understanding and... ardor. "And what did I come for?" The woman asked, as she slowly unwrapped the ruby red jewel that held the two ends of the black cloak she wore together. "Couldn''t I have been curious to meet my fellow countryman making a name for himself?"

    "That one," Brain pointed to the sword she wore at her side. "Had you had other intentions, you would have stowed it in a less visible place. The fact that you came to me, carrying it in plain sight only means one thing¡­" there was a certain quiver as he unsheathed his weapon. After many years, Brain felt the excitement he slowly was starting to assume was lost. "You want a duel, and I will not back down."

    "You won''t even offer me something first? Ahhh, my charm has really withered away. There was a time when kings and queens would have done the impossible just to spend a night with me. It''s extremely disappointing, but I suppose that''s how things go when you get older." Despite her apparent calmness, the woman had already grabbed her companion. At a first inexpert glance, one might have described it as bizarre to see such an age-scarred body wielding that large sword with ease. ''"Just don''t go easy on me because I look like this. I''d find it disappointing if after all the traveling I''ve done, I came across a little child who treats the elderly with condescension."

    Brain replied in the only way he knew how, hitting her with a long slash that was promptly parried. "Even if I wanted to, I could never do that. Or you could kill me on the spot." It was electrifying, knowing that at any moment his life could be snatched away. To be hanging by a thread that was slowly being severed. "But I must beg you to return the favor."

    A couple more blows followed, always with the same result. If Brain towered above her in physical strength and precision, the woman''s senses were far more developed, allowing her to counter his assaults with ease. In that moment of study, Brain could not determine a winner with certainty.

    They continued for a few minutes in that standoff, with never one able to prevail over the other. Without anyone really showing all their cards. When it seemed that the point had arrived where things would get intense, the woman stopped.

    "Not bad. You''re just the one I was looking for. And to think that there was someone stronger than me, it makes me want to traverse the world once more, before it''s too late."

    Brain could not agree with that statement. "If you were serious, I wouldn''t still be in this relative coolness." He made his disappointment clear, but it was not received by her. "What did you want to prove with all this?"

    She turned away from him, without making a sound. "I am Rigrit." A name that sounded familiar to Brain, but which he could not connect to anything. "Tell me, Brain. Why do you fight? There must be a reason, no? Is it because you are aware that this path could bring you boundless riches beyond your wildest imagination? Are you moved by an unrivaled sense of justice that prevents you from remaining silent in the presence of unspeakable wrongdoing? Or is it being recognised, the thing you aspire to? I have seen so many motivations that I could stand here and list them for days. And if I have discovered one banal truth, it is that they always differ, one from the other. Sometimes imperceptibly, other times clearly."

    "Even if I knew, would it affect who I am? A reason, how pathetic. To be the strongest, is that not enough? Why do I keep walking, knowing that there is no destination waiting for me? I may look back, and see nothing. I could turn my gaze to the horizon, and arrive at the end of a precipice."

    Rigrit laughed loudly. It was a deeply melancholic laugh, sharpened, however, by a vein distinctly full of zest. "Yes, perhaps you are right. It''s only old fossils like me who give importance to such nonsense. Tell me, what would you do to fulfill this aspiration of yours? How far would you be willing to go?"

    "I would gladly see the world burn if it would serve my purpose. I would bring down civilisations and dynasties, if it could increase the likelihood of getting as far as I want by even one measly amount." In the desert, only now it was possible to be certain, the words were filled with meaning. It was hard to tell whether it was caused by a simple change of perspective, or was there really something mystical about that lack of... everything. "If you knew the atrocities I was guilty of, your kind heart would not be able to bear it. Ah, do you perhaps want to judge me for that?"

    But the woman did not flinch. In truth, she seemed particularly amused. "Ahahahah. Believe me, you cannot even imagine the number of corpses behind me. Tell me, Brain, do you know the Theocracy of Slaine? Silly me, everyone knows it."

    The swordsman had not thought of that nation since that fateful final, where he almost lost his life. "What has that got to do with me? Do you perhaps want to recruit me for a crusade against non-humans? If so, I am ready to stop it in the bud. No beast would be able to bring satisfaction to my creed."

    Of monsters, he had faced plenty. Where brute force could not reach, technique and cunning made up for innate disadvantages. Had it been a fight without refinement that he yearned for, such opponents would have been perfect.

    "Don''t worry. I''m not a priest looking for acolytes." Rigrit replied, for the first time showing a certain rush of disappointment. As if the mere idea had turned her inside out. "No. You should know that the Theocracy is at war with a small kingdom northwest of here. A good friend of mine was specifically looking for a hero who could help them in such a desperate predicament."

    It was obvious who the needle of that conflict was leaning towards.

    "And I am that hero?"

    The woman''s brow furrowed, without her losing her good humor. "That''s the irony. You need desperate times to make heroes. Instead of useless bloodshed, a single dispute can save hundreds of lives on both sides. What I''m proposing is not a good deal. Quite frankly, the chances of you winning are... almost non-existent."

    He had known her for only a few hours, yet that lack of confidence made him boil with anger. It was as if he was desperate for that woman''s approval, though Brain couldn''t explain why.

    "I have already overpowered one of the Theocracy''s champions in a duel. What would be different this time?" Because there was something different. The news of the tournament finalists was sure to be part of Rigrit''s baggage of information. "I am not afraid of death. What frightens me is facing the afterlife without first getting what I seek."

    "You defeated a man, yes. But I offer you better. I offer you the chance to make a god bleed. You would be the first to accomplish such a feat. But if you are not interested¡­"

    And with that she got his attention.

    "You rave, old woman. Why should I listen to your lies? Gods never existed, vain hopes of fools disappointed by their own circumstances. And even if their tales were true, they left this world eons ago." Words could be deceptive, but the body did not always share this ability. And Brain''s, despite himself, could not reconcile this failure of intention.

    Rigrit noticed, for he handed him a letter, which he promptly threw out of a pocket of her cloak. "Take it to the lord of the city of Musaaid, he will understand everything." He felt her breath close to his again, but without combative intent, it had a whole other connotation. A sweet, honey-like taste, though not quite the same. "You want to admire it, don''t you? The peak, I mean."

    Brain accepted that piece of paper, trying not to show hesitation. "What''s in it for you?" Because no one ever did anything out of altruism. Nobody. "Did it not occur to you that I might be defeated?"

    And, unexpectedly, Rigrit''s voice became harsh. Hard as a piece of granite. "If someone has to die, it might as well be one of those who already lie with death." Then, all of a sudden, it returned to that genuine good-naturedness, which now sounded so contrived. "And, I hope, by watching you fight, the Theocracy will disclose their secrets to me. There are many things I do not know, and the time of ignorance must now end."

    "How do I know I can believe what you claim?" Trusting was good, not trusting was better. His hand brushed against the katana, the steely iron of the blade was cold to the touch. So cold, it was warming. "And more importantly, what''s in it for me to meddle in all this?"

    Rigrit had already disappeared, immersed in the sandstorms that were beginning to blow out of the location where they stood. "Ask about the treasure," was the echo of a voice Brain could hear, before nothing else remained of her. A faint murmur, which towered above all other noises. "Sometimes, what we seek is not what we really need."

    One day, he would ask her again what those last words meant. One day, he would find comfort in hearing them spoken once more. But if that day ever arrived, it could not be said.

    Brain resumed his wanderings, a landless stranger in remote places until he reached Musaaid, the place of the missive.

    At first, asking for an audience was not easy. Distrust was a natural occurrence with foreigners, and even more so during a war. They subjected him to long and tortuous interrogations, to unpleasant and invasive magical practices, which he faced firmly, never letting them disturb him.

    Eventually, the guards were convinced by his earnestness, and he was allowed to meet the prince of the city. Or maybe, it was just disperation that moved them. Difficult to say.

    The first thing Brain noticed, once he entered the throne room, was the stark contrast to the Re-Estize court he was used to. Few ornamental objects decorated the room, but those few furnishings visible to the eyes were finely crafted in gold and silver, with a skill and technique which had as a wonder the only possible consequence. They represented obscure events unknown to him, but were evidently well engraved in the history of that kingdom.

    Books, the quantity of which exceeded all expectations. The small, overflowing bookshelves outnumbered the dignitaries gathered around the throne.

    On these, sat a child. He would have called himself human -something that, in that place, was not so obvious- had it not been for the only, large eye that looked at Brain with a mixture of curiosity and fear. The child was constantly opening and closing the gigantic eyelid, the bronze crown he wore on his head that was too big for his head was adjusted with every movement by hands too small to steer.

    He opened his mouth, on the verge of saying something, but was stopped by the one who sat at his side. It was impossible to determine what that presence was whispering. For such it was. A heap of smoke that changed shape in no particular order. Close to its ruler, it was small and undefinable, ethereal in its abstract conformation.

    And then it approached Brain, acquiring concrete contours and a majesty equal to that of a titan. "Speak," he thundered. It was as if lightning had struck indoors, the first sign of a terrible rain that was to come. "Are you the one whom she who whispers to the dead spoke of?"

    It was evident that he was talking about Rigrit.

    On the ceiling, small chandeliers gave life to soft lights, which mingled with the shadows on the walls, replicating distorted versions of the images reproduced on the mosaics woven with ancient textures.

    "They told me that here I will find what I seek," the misty shape increasingly took on a human guise, to the point of recalling that of a man in his forties, whose dogmatic expression commanded respect and adoration. Whether that was his true appearance, or just Brain''s way of processing the truth of his being, was difficult to determine. "Are you looking for someone who can fight for you, and can die for your cowardice? Fortune has smiled upon the people of this palace, for I am the fool for you. If what I have been promised is fulfilled, my blade will be placed at your service."

    He then handed the letter to the councilor, who accepted it imperishable. The prince, meanwhile, had roused himself from his position and approached Brain, staring at him with an intensity that made one uneasy.

    "Are you perhaps, sir, the one we have been waiting for?" He finally spoke. It betrayed insecurity, the way he did so. Typical of a child who was forced to act like an adult. "Khaldun," the prince said, turning to his minister, "is he the one? Is this how a hero is made?"

    Once again, that word was used to define him, improperly. Brain sighed, resignedly accepting what he was not, what he had never been.

    Khaldun, that was the name of the being who was first a dream now a man, replied softly to his young prince: "That we will only find out when we know who he really is. And I ask, Brain Unglaus, who are you really? What do you seek in this place?"

    Brain answered as he had done before, when that same question had been imposed on him. "I was told a treasure was waiting for me here."

    "I can give you what you wish. The treasure of Musaaid is without a doubt the most exceptional sword in the world. No blade can compare with it. But, tell me, are you ready to accept it? It may be different from what you really desire."

    "Let me see it," he replied. "I will be the one to judge."

    "Very well," Khadul took the little prince in his arms and, accompanied by a handful of guards, led the way to Brain, until he led him into a secluded little room, where nothing was there except for a small wooden case. "Take it," he told him, handing him the case. "Open it."

    Brain hesitated, feeling a swirl of emotions take hold of him. Was that the climax of the play? It would turn out whether his existence had been a farce, or something more.

    He opened the case and observed what was inside it.

    "This is¡­"

    "Yes. The sword of life. And it is yours to wield. The only thing to determine is: ''do you feel ready for it?''"

    Brain took it in his hands, finally free of all doubt. "Now I understand. I will... Ah. So stupid."

    Khadul did not react, but his expression was answer enough. The child was the only one to utter a word. "Now you are no longer a man. You are mine, forever. Brain Unglaus has been reborn. What I see is what you see. And what I wish for is what you will accomplish."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Fifth precept: void.

    Aeneas watched his opponent before him. Brain wore a beautiful chainmail, completely identical to that which the knights of the Baharuth Empire used to wear, except for the ring links, which were slightly shorter. The style of the vambraces followed the same pattern.

    The armor went down to the middle of the thigh, a piece of silk was attached circularly at its end, going down to the calf. He wore no helmet, leaving uncovered a long row of blue curls, from which black roots emerged.

    "Are you my opponent?" His voice was deep, rich with bloodlust, but at the same time one could perceive a certain peace in it. A sense of acceptance, which was rare to find in such circumstances.

    Aeneas stepped forward, moving away from the princess and the other members of the Black Scriptures. "Yes, it''s me."

    Only now could he notice that Brain Unglaus was not alone. Behind him came a handful of soldiers clad in the same armor he wore, led by a man with feline features.

    The demi-human approached them, pulled out a stone tablet, and said: "In accordance with the pact sealed by the first preceptor Khalud, regent of the sacred city of Musaaid on behalf of and in the name of the House El-Said, under order of the will of Prince Hazma the Second, with General Bulgari of the Theocracy of Slaine, representative of the will of the Six Cardinals and the Pontifex Maximus, we are here to put an end to the conflict that has ravaged our nations. Rather than continuing with unnecessary bloodshed, we entrust destiny to those gathered here. Negotiations will be opened by winners and losers depending on the outcome of what happens today. Warriors, do you accept these terms on behalf of your lords?"

    "We accept!"

    "Very well," the feline cast a glance at the Theocracy group. "As per agreement, Princess Shaimaaa El-Aziz is here with us, and her condition appears optimal." He raised his voice so that she could hear him. "If it is alright with you, we can begin."

    Shaimaaa sent her handmaiden to express her approval. It took a few more minutes before Aeneas and Brain could be completely alone. At that juncture, the captain aimed all his concentration at the weapons the other carried at his waist. Covered as they were by the scabbard in which they were kept, it was difficult to judge their correct shape. What was certain was that Brain relied heavily on them, given his total lack of agitation.

    "Brain Unglaus, blade of Hazma, winner of the Re-Estize''s royal tournament. He who never knew defeat. Challenger, state your name."

    He drew his first sword. A long, single-edged blade. Its length was at least sixty centimeters. Aeneas recognised it as a model that had also been in vogue in the Theocracy in the past, but whose users were no longer as frequent as they once were.

    "Odysseus, I have no title to flaunt or claim." He used one of the aliases he often employed when on a mission. "May ours be an honorable duel."

    From Brain''s dark eyes glittered a spark, as the sword was already in place. There was not the slightest sign of life at that moment. It was the silence that enclosed everything, and that did not let even the slightest noise escape.

    Aeneas admired Brain''s figure, still and motionless but full of a dynamism that left one breathless. It was like taking a drop and pouring it on a flat surface of water, being surprised when the latter did not make any reaction, and merely absorbed that offering in its natural state.

    Aeneas felt Fulgur, the spear he wielded, tremble. Or rather, it was his fingers that mimicked that sensation. There was no hesitation. He had slaughtered many men during his missions. This time, it would be no different. It was not faltering, no. It was a disappointment at having to put an end to something that shone so beautifully.

    Brain''s slightly bent torso had reached an angle that bordered on immutable perfection; his slightly parted legs were ready to charge the weight that would first start in his arms and then go off like an electric shock through his whole body, until that slash would go through everything that stood in the way of his prey.

    Little was the distance that separated them at that moment, and yet Aeneas felt the abyss between them. It was a chasm made of experience and wisdom accumulated in ruthless training and even crueler feats. The temptation for the younger man was, bewitching and misplaced, to let it all go and lose himself in the stories he could share with him.

    But...

    "¡ºGod''s...¡»."

    When Aeneas took the first step, Brain''s eyes opened, illuminated by a light that seemed to have checkered the darkness of blindness for the first time. What did that gaze behold? Was he seeing what Aeneas was now observing? Martial arts were the warrior''s magics; miracles of transmutation in which substance departed from logic and made madness its high priestess.

    The blessing of the stars, with the remnants of their dust high in the night, reflected in their bodies -the only thing a warrior could truly trust- the contemplation of that atavistic formula. Their weaknesses were corrected, by a mystery whose real meaning even they did not fully comprehend, strengthening the flesh and sharpening the senses.

    "¡º...Flash¡»."

    The blade departed, and with it Brain leapt, moved by a force that was beyond belief. The air itself shuddered with that invocation, reproducing the thunderous noise that glass made when it shattered into a thousand pieces. The force of a hundred earthquakes and the disaster of as many storms had melted into that tiny point, which one could hardly keep in focus, as the iron roared over that space that had become an anvil, shouting steel-like screams into the void.

    It was a breathtaking spectacle, capable of restoring the faith of one who had lost it. An immanent infinity that unfolded in its grandeur, and that, too timid to be observed, conveyed the impatience of a condition never accepted.

    There was the beauty in that blow. And there was also the pathetic.

    Aeneas raised his arm, letting the sword make contact with the cuirass. Brain''s body sagged, the aftershock of the impact spinning his world, now letting that drop make a deafening flop.

    There was a crack, when Brain''s katana spinning found itself stripped of some of its sharpness. Tiny fragments already eaten by the desert sand, which would never be found again.

    Dismayed, but not surprised, Aeneas sighed weakly. "Give up," he found himself saying. "I see no reason to persist in pursuing a foregone conclusion. We may continue, but I already understand how far you can go."

    Brain regained control and pulled a second, swift slash. The blade, not even noticing the missing pieces, headed towards Aeneas'' neck with uncontrollable force. The head of the Black Scripture captain was severed with a clean cut, leaving a trail of blood behind.

    Or, at least, that should have been the case. At the contact of the sword with his bare skin, Aeneas was pervaded by a feeling of coldness; the muscles of his neck contracted and stiffened but continued to repel with even more violence what was a merciless attempt on his life, but which from his point of view was more comparable to a stupid game between children.

    Brain grimaced in pain, letting the proud warrior expression be replaced by a ridiculous display of effort. The muscles of his face bent in a distorted manner, contracting and relaxing irregularly, while the pressure exerted by his whole body, his whole essence, was concentrated in a single, disreputable purpose.

    "So this is how you want to continue¡­" Aeneas breathed deeply, relaxing his muscles without particular apprehension. The chilling sensation was already gone; now in its place he felt an annoying tingling feeling that dried him out deeply. "Don''t complain that I didn''t warn you."

    The grip on Fulgur became firmer; while an emotion he was not used to showing was becoming more and more evident. It was anger, but not directed at Brain.

    The lance thrust out in a slow, single attack. First it mimicked the speed Brain''s sword showed, to give the swordsman time to sense the danger, but before he could even think of counterattacking or running away, Aeneas infused even more impetus than normal into his weapon, bringing it down like a thunderbolt on the man in front of him.

    There was a sharp sound, and the desert sand rose on impact, releasing a gigantic wave that swept over them both. Despite the grains that had annoyingly seeped into the joints, both remained at their point of origin.

    Brain''s sword dangled at his side, barely held off the ground. Aeneas''s spear had, on the other hand, lodged in his thigh, from which red liquid began to gush out.

    "It is over," murmured Aeneas. "With one leg out of commission you could not continue fighting." That alone had been enough to put the so-called Sword Saint out of action. That was the most that ordinary men could aspire to... and it was so damn small. ''What did you say, princess?'' He thought, as he looked at the man before him blankly. ''That my mission might end one day? Observe, how wrong your beliefs are.''

    Brain''s face was a mask of sorrow, increasingly resembling a grotesque depiction of deep human emotions, as used to be exaggerated in the most extreme theatrical performances. His breathing became slow and awkward, while his eyes struggled to hold his gaze.

    How he still remained conscious was a miracle, an affront to reason.

    "Ahh...Ah...Ahhh... Why...?" Each word was a titanic effort, which must have caused immense torment. Brain''s free hand moved slowly, to grasp the hilt of Aeneas'' spear, with small hesitations that would have made the wandering of a blind man in a dark cave seem safe in comparison. "Why... don''t you give me the coup de grace?"

    Aeneas did not flinch; unchanged was his expression. "It would only be a waste to kill a man of your worth for so little. You will soon collapse to the ground, and I will be declared the winner."

    "...A waste¡­" Brain''s fingers grasped Fulgur and began to pull. The teeth in his mouth clenched and showed all their whiteness as blood flowed to his eyes. Aeneas remained still. "That old woman... she wasn''t lying, then. Ahh, you... You have reached the summit... haven''t you? Is that what we men are capable of? Or are you something more?" The spear ascended slowly, ripping through flesh, shattering the bones that stood in its way.

    Brain''s face became even more contorted with rags of euphoria. "You have touched the summit," he said -he shouted-. "Tell me, I implore you! What do you see from up there?"

    "A dead man."

    He pretended not to hear him, or perhaps truly that comment was lost. "Show me," Brain regained control, his hands still stained with blood pulled back his hair, which had now taken on an unhealthy shade. A few drops of the scarlet liquid still ran down his forehead, flowing to his lips. Around his neck, under the shirt, he wore a chain to which a small vial was tied. He opened it, sipping its contents in one gulp. "Show me more! Show me how far I can reach! Heavens, bear witness, this is the destiny of men being fulfilled!"

    From the second sheath, he drew the other sword. It was... broken. Or so one might have assumed at first glance. The hilt was of the purest gold, glittering more than any other precious metal, and gems of various colors competed for the most precious on the hilt. But the blade... it was incomplete, lacking the sharp part almost completely. Even the material it was made of was unremarkable; if not for the greenish streaks, it would have been called ordinary steel.

    "A disappointment, isn''t it?" As if he were reading his thoughts directly, Brain observed the stumpy sword, illuminated by the moonlight, which had now reached its highest point in the sky. "I believed the same thing the first time I saw it. But that too had been foreseen, as was my clash with you. Root, they call it around here. But I think you may also know it as the sword of life."

    Aeneas winced, recognising it. "One of the four sacred swords," he recalled, feeling for the first time since that confrontation had begun a sensation close to uneasiness. "I didn''t think it was in such a place."

    The only one they had attained the certain location of in that fantastic lot was Safarlisia, in the possession of the grand master of the paladins of the Holy Kingdom. Finding such a rarity, in a place like that, was untold.

    Before he could determine how to proceed, Aeneas noticed that Brain had stabbed his sword into the ground, letting a light of indistinguishable color shine through. There was no time to blink, that the scenery around him started to change.

    The arid desert began to come to life, flowers of every type and size bloomed in the middle of nowhere, filling the air with pollen. But it was not only that which caused astonishment. Roots began to sprout from the ground, heading towards him.

    "Damn¡­"

    Aeneas stepped back swiftly, noticing the landscape continuing to change faster and faster. Had he not been in the throes of battle, he would have wasted a moment considering the beauty of that environment, which was now astounding in its sheer diversity.

    It was this time Brain threw himself at him, both swords held, as the growing nature obeyed his every command. At that moment, the enemies had multiplied by leaps and bounds, attacking Aeneas from all directions. Immense trees enclosed them both in a dome of wood and darkness. Branches and roots covered with thorns were not in time to be severed, that they were supplanted by a doubled quantity.

    Brain''s slashes did not grow faster, but were as if moved by a primal instinct, as if the very heart of that forest that was being born had found in him a guide into that unknown existence. The swordsman attempted two lunges, one after the other, as a tangle of roots clung to Aeneas''s legs, and a strand of wood started at his sides to hold him in place. The stress he was subjecting his body to was evident. Nerves and veins were trying to leak from their ligaments. How many Martial Arts was he using, just for the tiny hope of keeping up?

    The Black Scripture captain cashed in the two blows, not even feeling them. The abyss had not yet been bridged, despite the certainly impressive sight. Being bitten by a mosquito might have been annoying, but it certainly wouldn''t have changed the outcome of something that had come to an end.

    Aeneas'' nostrils flared as her body exploded in a show of strength. He did not even need to use Fulgur to sever those constraints, the power of his muscles being sufficient.

    Brain, who kept that wicked grin, must have been aware of it, because he tried to hit him right in his most vulnerable part -his right eye- before there was a chance to react. The problem, if it could be called such, was that Brain could only count on estimating reflex speeds equal to - or at most slightly greater than - those he was capable of.

    Aeneas'' right hand intercepted the sword, clutching it with such energy that it broke it. Not even the splinters managed to penetrate the most superficial layer of his skin. But Brain''s dexterity was worthy of the highest praise, for he was already on a collision course with Root towards another of the points he - foolishly - considered sensitive: his right ear. This time it was Fulgur who deflected the attack. The material forged by the gods collided with the unknown metal, demonstrating the superiority of the divine over that divine was not.

    There was a hushed sound, partly covered by the swordsman''s panting. The sword of life shone again as it was thrown into the air. Its bearer managed to catch it before it crashed, but not before the end came.

    A kick to the side followed, sending Brain flying for hundreds of meters, knocking down everything in his way. The forest rose in defense of its master, and began with even greater violence to hurl itself at the Black Scripture captain.

    "¡ºFlame tornado¡»."

    The tip of the spear was infused with crackling heat, extreme and vicious. Orange flames dispersed with Thunderbolt''s spin, beginning to voraciously consume everything they could. Aeneas became a spiral of fire, in which everything was sucked into its vortex. Smaller parts of matter replaced larger ones, in a race in which what was created struggled to keep up with what was destroyed, in an endless sequence of infinite divisions.

    When he was finished, Aeneas was surrounded by burning flames, as such one would have said that the whole world was made of that element alone. The desert was returning to its original form, were it not for the ash that now fell down like corrupted snow on the earth. Smoke had covered the sky, and that lush spectacle from just now had quickly passed through the cycle of life, stopping at its final stage, that of decay. The few escaped plants were inexorably withering away, painting a scene of death and desolation.

    Aeneas looked at the fruit of his labor and the only thing he could contemplate was a feeling of defeat. ''It doesn''t even compare to what she could have done.''

    Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Brain, crawling towards him. He had dropped his armor and, fumbling and falling, was futilely trying to cover the distance.

    "There shouldn''t be a single healthy bone left in your body," Aeneas said. "Twice I have spared you. There won''t be a third."

    "The sword of life gives what it takes," Brain''s lips twitched, foolishing getting up once again. "All this is nothing compared to the strength now bestowed upon me." His face was a mask of red, much of the skin had been flayed off, revealing blood vessels and filaments. The parts without scars were an anomaly in that torn body. And yet, in that sorry state, only one thing was motivating him. "If I were to defeat you, would I become the strongest?"

    "I''m afraid not," Aeneas answered truthfully.

    "...I understand." Brain had abandoned the katana, returning to the position he had assumed at the start of the fight with Root alone. "I tremble. Is this the fear? You are frightening¡­ I thought I was strong, that I had reached my limit, but now I realize I hadn''t even come close. I couldn''t even catch a tiny glimpse of it." His mouth was caked with blood, which he promptly licked. Drops of it descended on the burnt soil. "I offer all that I am, all that I have left, just for this instant."

    In that fragility, there was all the beauty of men who know no surrender. "It is not late yet. You could save yourself if you wish." Aeneas received no sign.

    "¡ºGod...¡»."

    God. There was nothing transcendent about that technique. It would end like the first time, so why the obstinacy? Aeneas couldn''t understand it, or perhaps he did all too well and couldn''t admit it.

    A pale imitation, doomed to never reach the original. Such was the fate of mankind.

    "¡ºThunder-Dragon...¡»."

    Thunderbolt began to be covered in electric shocks. The tension increased, until the thunder forming at the tip of the spear assumed, albeit illusorily, the form of a golden dragon.

    Aeneas threw himself forward.

    "¡º...Flash]¡»."

    "¡º...Thrust¡»."

    There was no sound, no explosion or impact. There was only the lance that pierced Brain''s chest, narrowly avoiding his heart.

    In the end, only silence kept them company.

    Whenever he killed a man, Aeneas told himself that next time it would be easier. Each time, Aeneas found herself admitting that it was not, hoping that there wouldn''t be a next. He would clean the blood from his weapons and his body, to make it invisible to all but him. Forever stained by that sin.

    "At the end of the waterfall, the carp did not become a dragon." Every second Brain had left was a gift to be preserved. "...How unfortunate. But the climb was compensation enough."

    "You lied." Aeneas whispered. The vegetation around was now scattered, turned back to dust. "Root did not create anything. Only illusions that acquired concreteness, at the cost of your life. Everything has a price."

    Meaningless madness.

    "The most precious sword of all is not made to cut. A worthless piece of junk, that could give life just for so little."

    "Why?"

    The fading moonlight was all that illuminated them.

    "How I hate that question." Brain''s eyes began to close. "Whether they were born as such or have become so, dragons don''t have the luxury of being able to die forgotten, remember that." His voice grew fainter and fainter. "Is it time to wake up? Is the dream over?"

    "Another call will come." Aeneas could still feel his heart beating as the spear was withdrawn. "It will be up to you to decide if the slumber will continue, or if, for the first time, waking up will be preferable."

    But Brain could not listen to him, for he was already dead.

    Aeneas took Root, whom Brain''s hands still gripped gently and firmly. He felt a tiny part of his energy leave him as the flower bed came to life. He slowly laid Brain''s corpse on it.

    Shaimaaa approached him. Like the others, she had been intent on observing the clash. What was she now thinking of him? "Captain... The flowers are already dying¡­"

    "Now it was you who fell victim to a mirage." He said. "Don''t you see? These flowers are beautiful."

    "...You are right." She said. "I was wrong. They are indeed stunning."

    "Now, let''s be quiet. The vigil is long, and the hero rests. The rich night cradles his dreams, may these flowers keep him company when he wakes."

    Interlude: tender is the flesh

    The royal palace at Crescent Lake had no prisons. Or rather, it had some cells in the depths of its structure but their use had been scarce over the centuries.

    The previous king -Decem Hougan- was prone to punishment -very much so, some would have add- but capital sentence was by far his favorite imposition of justice. A gesture of charity, he called it.

    So now the prisons of the royal palace were filthy and disused, having never known any inhabitants within them. In the corridors rats and insects had made their home, and ghostly presences could be felt at every corner.

    Figuratively speaking, of course. But also literally. Now that the king was no more, a new generation of priests and spellcasters skilled in divine magic had to be trained to deal with creatures that previously remained hidden in the shadows.

    It was with these thoughts that Logem strolled boredly through the dungeons of the royal palace. With him were one of the new ministers of the reborn kingdom of Evasha and a couple of young guards.

    "We are happy that you have agreed to come to our aid," said the minister. His name was Avoca and he was fair-skinned even for a wood elf. "We did not know how to proceed. Disturbing the Queen on her journey would have been inappropriate. But fortunately for us, one of the heroes who ended the Nameless King''s era of terror arrived here at the right time."

    Nameless King. That was how Decem Hougan was referred to among his former subjects. Damnatio memoriae, a practice aimed at totally eliminating all traces of a recent time, which was to be kept as far away from the present as possible.

    Logem suspected that it was not only the desire to start afresh that motivated that choice, but also a still dormant fear that was unlikely - or perhaps ever - to disappear. Not that he felt like condemning them for that. Deep in his heart, he knew he felt the same.

    "No need to thank me." Logem reassured him, noticing his agitation. He never had time to think about it, but did his presence truly cause so much awe in others? "I only fulfill the role of external counselor. I had some business to attend to here, before heading to our beloved Queen."

    "I hope you have not noticed any anomalies." Avoca''s gaze was blank, and he turned around continuously, as if he was terrified that someone was following them. "There is much work to be done, and our resources are... limited. Some people from the Theocracy came to our aid in the beginning but there were many accidents -nothing serious, fortunately- and we were forced to practice more... isolationist policies."

    If it had been the other way round, that would have been a surprise! Logem preferred to avoid the subject in any case, so as not to bring up old grudges.

    "Nothing to report. I had asked for a small courtesy from the prime minister and was delighted to see that everything was going well." If Avoca had inspected his traveling bag, the list with the current location of every surviving child of the king and the agents arranged for their supervision would have been the first thing to jump out at him. "I also took the opportunity to give some greetings to Ruri, my half-sister. We had a lot to talk about."

    "Good, I''m very glad." The young minister was all a bundle of nerves. If he had smelt anything strange, he would have pointed it out at that hour. Instead, he kept fiddling with his hands, now slick with sweat. "So you''re on your way to see the Queen. I''d love to see her too but there''s a lot going on here." There followed the most false laughter Logem had ever heard in all his life. "How is our beloved monarch? Do you have any news on the matter?"

    "She is doing well. I have been maintaining a close correspondence with our sister, her lady-in-waiting. I believe... They are enjoying themselves." Or at least that was the idea he had formed.

    "Evasha''s kingdom, really a big family. In every sense of the word." There was a hint of sarcasm, but Logem ignored it.

    "I guess so. Listen, is it much further?"

    They had been walking for a good few minutes at that point. The spaces were growing darker and more oppressive; had it not been for a couple of lamps on either side of the walls that shared a dim light, they would have been completely engulfed in darkness.

    "No... We have arrived."

    The small group stopped in front of a small cell. The first thing Logem noticed was a screeching sound, like nails flaying on hard stone. Nothing else was discernible, for nothing could be seen inside, completely shrouded in darkness. Not even a small window had been placed inside, to let a minimum of air circulate.

    Logem was on the verge of activating one of his skills to get a fuller picture of the situation when one of the guards lit a small oil lamp he was carrying. The second one slowly opened the cell door. The bars had not been oiled in a long time, for they produced an extremely unpleasant sound.

    "Do not approach," warned Avoca. "It could be dangerous."

    Logem took just a step forward, before realizing what was in front of him. "What the hell?"

    A dark-skinned elf sat kneeling before the right wall of the dungeon. He was scratching the walls in euphoria, heedless of the pitiful state his fingers were reduced to. He was very thin, to the point that one could distinguish the bones of his body with precision, and in his gaze there was the same ecstasy that only the worst drunks knew, with a streak of equal amounts of insanity.

    He was whispering something. "The Five Fingers. Fear them. The Five Fingers. Love them. The Five Fingers. Adore them. The Five Fingers are the verb. The Five Fingers are the truth."

    He kept repeating that litany, without giving any sign of stopping.

    "His name is Blueberry Egnia and he was one of the most notorious archers in a village of dark elves, far away from the capital." Avoca could not even stare at his captive, as disgust coloured the minister''s face. "After the king''s death we combed the entire forest of Evasha, to spread the good news and make contact with all its inhabitants. The age of isolation was over, we thought."

    "And this is how you found him?"

    Avoca nodded. "The whole village was in this state. By the time we arrived, most had died of starvation. The survivors perished soon after. He is the only one who continues to hold out. For how long, we cannot say."

    "And you did nothing to help him?"

    Avoca shook his head. "We tried, but there was no way. He refuses food, and can''t stand the sunlight for long." The elf bit his lip, hesitant. "That was not the only oddity. We found other weird things in his village."

    "Like what?" Logem pressed him, noting his reticence to speak.

    "A baby born without skin. Elders who had cut out their tongues. Children who were devouring animal corpses... The pharmacist had destroyed all his work and painted in his shop five lines, each of a different color."

    "Five Fingers¡­" Reflected Logem aloud. "What else?"

    Avoca hesitated. Just talking about it must have been very difficult for him. "Undead. Some of the citizens had become zombies or other non-living beings. But what was out of the ordinary was that no one seemed to give them much thought. They went on with their daily routine, as if nothing had happened. They were... celebrating something when we found them. Engaging in orgiastic dancing and singing. I was leading the expedition." He paused for a moment, as if the memory was still vivid and haunting. "After the fall of the king we had seen exuberant feasting, of all kinds. But none like this. It was... wrong."

    Logem listened very carefully to these last words. "Undead¡­" His mind went back to an encounter he had tried hard to forget, but which had been pulling at his nightmares for months. And a different kind of dream too, as much as he struggled to admit it. "There was an abnormal presence of them in the last period of the king''s reign. But I thought we got rid of them completely. Does the Queen know about this?"

    Avoca shook his head. "We preferred not to warn her. Did we make a mistake?"

    Logem sighed. "No matter." Here were the consequences of years and years of terror. Decem Hougan had left a scar on Evasha''s people deeper than the one that furrowed his face. "I will see to it as soon as possible. Just let me talk to the prisoner."

    The elf began to calm down. The agitation was not gone, but at least it was less visible now. "Of course, but be careful."

    One of the guards forcefully lifted Blueberry, who offered no resistance. He continued to be in a trance, repeating those words. "Five Fingers."

    Except everything changed when he saw Logem. "You¡­" He regained lucidity little by little, but whether this was a good thing was not easy to determine. "You... You... you... were with her. You were with Lady Death. You were with Lady Death. Oh, yeah. Y-Yes. Yep. Yes. Yep. Death. You look like her. You look like her! Lady Death. Ohhh, Lady Death. Gird your legs on my lap. I implore you. Smother me, until you take my breath away. I beg you. Kiss my soul when it will leave this tender flesh. Evasha has made its offer. Was the blood of the elves not enough? How much more will you claim?" The dark elf kept licking his lips in a disgusting way, sticking his tongue completely out.

    "Lady Death? Of whom are you speaking?"

    But Blueberry did not give him much thought, as if he had not even been in the same place. "Oh, Lady Death. You who slaughtered the Immortal King. I want you, I desire you, I love you. I want you to be mine."

    "Is that Antilene you''re talking about? Is that the way to address your Queen?" There was something deeply wrong with all that. Logem began to grow impatient, and the temptation to scratch his scar returned after months of being dormant, but he desisted from that impulse. He had to do it. "What do you know? Speak!"

    That Blueberry had perhaps observed the massacre his sister had made? Had that been what had reduced him to that state? But how to reconcile it with the other anomalies they had recorded? Questions, questions. Too many without explanation.

    "The Five Fingers are coming." Blueberry attempted to touch an area of his body... unseemly. One of the guards kicked him, which caused the dark elf to roll a few inches. "Ehehe." His only reaction was a soft laugh.

    Now that the agitation of that situation was beginning to cool, Logem could pay attention to a pestilential stench. Of feces... and more. He was thankful that the darkness prevented him from distinguishing what was on the floor of the cell.

    "That''s all we''ll get from him. Have your interrogations produced any other results? Anything I should know?"

    "Nothing we have not reported to you," Avoca was quick to reply. Maybe it was guilt that took control of him now. "All he does is talk about these Five Fingers. Sometimes he also refers to Queen Antilene with terms... that her brother would be better off not listening to."

    "What a mess¡­"

    He did not have time to think about it too much, that one of the guards shrieked. "Hey, where are you going?" Blueberry had shrugged off his tormentors and, with extraordinary and unexpected strength, headed towards Logem, pointing the knife he was carrying. In the dark elf''s eyes was the same hunger that motivates a beast to catch its prey.

    Taken by surprise, Logem reacted with a punch in the face, sending him flying to the far end of the small room. Blueberry''s head slammed violently into the side and the dark elf scrambled to the floor, still conscious. He immediately got up again, heedless of the wound.

    "What are you doing?"

    Blueberry grabbed a sharp stone from the ground, and began carving into his chest, until it ripped through his robe and flesh. "Lady Death, this is for you. May our tender flesh and blood become one! Five Fingers! Five Fingers! Save me¡­ From them¡­"

    When they tried to stop him, he already bled to death.

    The carcass fell, making no sound.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

 Chapter 46: Dura lex, sed lex

    Chapter 46

    Dura lex, sed lex

    She had prepared herself for an excursion into the forest, with the cold of the night to keep her company. She had prepared herself for ferocious beasts and monsters, ready to feast on her flesh, in a carnival of slaughter. She had prepared herself for a silent infiltration, made before the eyes of their enemies and under their very noses.

    And, indeed, everything she had prepared for turned out to be correct. The beasts, rune-bears, fiery locusts, eagles of death, now lay on the little path they had trodden, so quiet and peaceful that one could have mistaken their death for sweet slumber.

    It was cold, yes. It was that barely imperceptible cold, from which it is easy to shelter but which sticks uncomfortably to the body. Antilene sighed, noticing that her breath immediately took on a gaseous, slightly blue form, like melted snow. She repeated that gesture a couple of times, before it grew tiresome.

    "We shouldn''t be here much longer, should we?" Her glove-covered hands rubbed continuously. Partly in search of warmth, partly to chase away an insufferable boredom. Rub, rub, rub, until the blackness that covered the fingers blurred the contours. "Of course, of all those I could have accompanied me, what a coincidence that you were the one chosen, wasn''t it?"

    Not at all, she would have gladly put her hand on the fire to prove it.

    The man waiting beside her, Erya, yawned boredly. The typical reaction of someone who would rather spend his evening in the sweet embrace of blankets than in that godforsaken place. "Queen Kirke merely chose those who were best suited for the mission. No wonder then that the only representatives of the Theocracy saw the heaviest task fall on their shoulders. For an abomination, that creature does not sin in bad judgment."

    It would have been interesting to see him repeat those exact words in front of his benefactress. Antilene had realized, in the short time she had interacted with him, that Erya was many things. But whether he was a coward or a fool was still the source of her indecision.

    "Hum, maybe you''re right. Are your companions fine in this weather? They seem a bit too... uncovered." The three elf slaves of Erya, who at this point might as well have called themselves extended appendages of the swordsman, huddled together, trying to absorb what little heat their practically naked bodies managed to convey. Not with great results. "Or they could use magic to feel the effects of the cold less, I suppose. That shouldn''t be a problem for them, should it?"

    Erya feigned a motion of surprise. "Queen Fouche," he was the only one who did not call Antilene by her first name, no matter how much she tried to correct him, "I am surprised at you. Are you not a fine strategist? Consuming mana for such nonsense... it would really be counterproductive to our mission."

    Antilene thought that for someone so full of himself, Erya was far too prone to rely on the abilities of others. "Perhaps you are right." One of the elves was on the verge of saying something, but stopped before a sound could escape her throat. "Is that perhaps why you did not help me during the fight? Did you think it wiser to conserve your energy?"

    The half-elf did not look at the man; her attention was entirely on the corpse of a giant, goat-legged faun that now lay at her feet. Charon''s Guidance was embedded squarely in its head, and its central blade gushed with greenish blood. Antilene pulled it out slowly, almost as if she was preserving the safety of the now lifeless creature. The blood slid from the tip to the pommel of the scythe, reaching up to touch her fingers. It was warm.

    Erya''s agitation was obvious, no matter how hard he tried to still appear confident. "I just felt this was the most prudent course of action. Some Immortals are defending the city, and when the situation gets tough -because I have no doubt combat will be unavoidable- I will need every resource I have to protect you." Had only his side of the story been heard, one might have come to regard him as a spotless and fearless hero, ready to lay down his life in sacrifice to save the princess. But it would have been, at the same time, sufficient to observe the drops of sweat that began to drip from his forehead to attach a whole other meaning to what he said. "My lady, I must admit it. You are an excellent fighter. Nevertheless I advise you not to exert yourself too much further, as you will certainly be very fatigued."

    Antilene, who now finally felt his body begin to awaken from drowsiness, pointed Charon''s Guidance at him. "Oh, I thank you. A truly gentlemanly comment, but I can assure you there is no need for it. In any case, knowing that someone is prepared to sacrifice themselves for me makes me immensely happy." The length of the scythe abundantly filled the space between them. A weapon like that, in the Theocracy of Slaine, was an omen of a grim future. What Erya saw reflected in the silver sheen of the blades was a source of endless questions for the half-elf. "Should any other beast show itself, I will gladly leave it to your sword." Would an apostate have changed their mind once they knew of Charon''s Guidance''s origin? Antilene entertained the idea of spilling the secret, just to test his astonishment.

    Erya stepped back, as if trying to recover some of the air that had been sheared off by the scythe itself. "Of course¡­ My lady." He looked at his three slaves who, unlike him, had remained at their original positions. From his point of view, that had to be an unforgivable affront; it did not matter that it was terror that had paralyzed them. His hand slowly descended upon the sword carried in his sheath -Delfina- and it was easy to imagine what would follow if it were just the four of them. "During my wanderings I learned a trick or two to deal with the widest variety of enemies possible. I only regret that I didn''t get a chance to show you something truly exceptional."

    "Very unfortunate," retorted Antilene, placing Charon''s Guidance back into the infinite sack. Still, the distance between them had become unbridgeable at that point. "I have an idea. Why don''t we take a tour around here and see if any beings have managed to escape? We might get lucky, right? Ahhh... a sheltered girl like me can''t even comprehend what a valiant warrior like you is capable of." The half-elf''s shoulders tightened as her head slowly shook.

    "Should another beast appear¡­" Erya''s lips moved hesitantly, while the rest of his face maintained a proud expression. "I believe the pungent smell of blood will make that improbable. Unless we''re talking about beings definitely out of the ordinary, like the lords of the Tob Forest, a carnage of this dimension should be repellent enough for any creature." He began to soothe himself, aware of the reasonableness of his argument. "But if an enemy of such caliber were to come forward," Delfina blurted out, pointing to the void. The non-existing enemy already slain in his fantasy. "He will taste defeat for the first time!"

    Above them, hidden among the trees, a flock of crows -the only animals that still dared to remain in that dark forest- performed an infernal cawing.

    Antilene stood there staring at Erya, counting how long it would take him to look away. Three seconds, a small achievement, greater however than most could manage.

    The half-elf stretched, emitting a resounding yawn. The three elves continued to stare at her, as if mesmerized by such noise. One of them, with long red hair, hesitantly approached.

    "Um," her voice was thin as a thread. She cast a sidelong glance at Erya, who was not paying her much attention, intent instead on being lost in the sharpening of his blade with a whetstone imbued with magic. "May I ask something?"

    "Go ahead," Antilene urged her. She smiled softly at the elf, to let her know that she would have nothing to fear as long as she was in her presence.

    "You have become the new queen of Evasha, have you not? Does that mean you have slain the immortal king?"

    "With these very hands of mine." Just remembering that moment caused Antilene to feel a sensation that straddled the line between irrepressible joy and uncontrolled euphoria. There was also something else. A missing piece that did not make the mosaic perfect, but which stood out with intolerable insolence in her vision. "I still have his blood bathing my face and his squeals repeating like sweet music in my ears. My only regret is that I was not able to crystallize that moment into something eternal, so that I could admire it again like a precious jewel, whenever I felt like it."

    The elf retreated, starting to look even smaller and slenderer. "And how did you feel?" She asked, with a certain naivety that barely suppressed a murkier feeling. "The moment you saw him die, did you think it was worth it? Did you achieve happiness in the end?"

    Antilene answered sincerely. "I wouldn''t say that. My life did not change overnight, nor did who I was undergo any strange changes. The me who got up that morning saw no change from the me who went to bed that night." Erya was approaching them at that point. Perhaps intrigued, perhaps something worse. He did not, in any case, attempt to intrude. "But... if you had to ask me if I''d do it again I''d tell you I''d do it once, ten, a hundred times over. Revenge doesn''t make you necessarily in the right, but that''s not why it''s done. It serves to restore a balance that had been broken, impossible to return to its original wholeness. Justice always finds a way to implement itself, not always in conventional and entirely peaceful ways. To be an instrument of something superior, that is what is additive."

    Entire textbooks could have been filled with that question, but Antilene was the type to leave such philosophical discourses, however fascinating she found them, to more exacting minds.

    What she felt was hers and hers alone, and would not allow strangers to define it. This, of course, would still not prevent it from being shared with others.

    The elf closed in even more herself, like a hunted animal. "So¡­" She did not complete the sentence, infected by a poison that now had contaminated her. So intoxicating, so inebriating.

    "My lady, I hope my servant has not inconvenienced you," Erya licked his lips, as if the sweetest taste could have been placed on those rosy excrescences. He looked at the elf, and then looked at Antilene, but it was evident that there was no differentiation between the two in his gaze. "You must be tired, perhaps rest is what you need, not idle chatter."

    Antilene''s face remained hard as stone. "It wasn''t any¡­" She was on the verge of retorting, when a meandering voice made its way into her thoughts. It was a¡ºMessage¡»connected directly to her synapses; the communication was opened with a quick breeze and what there was to report was conveyed without nuance.

    "Yes... yes... we are coming," repeated the half-elf loudly, so that all could hear her. "Shutting down the connection." Her attention turned to Erya. "The way is clear, we can go."

    Antilene did not wait for her reply, who had already turned and walked towards a deeper part of the forest. Certain that the swordsman and his slaves were following her, she did not look back even once, being able to perceive their movements in those shadows that wriggled and twisted among branches and roots, converting on nature itself and concealing their steps with little discretion.

    It took a few minutes, which were comparable to long hours of waiting, before they arrived where they were wanted. Melina and Agravaine were near the entrance to a small tunnel, connected to a river of yellowish water that split the path in half.

    It was her sister who was the first to offer them a greeting, despite the short time they had been separated.

    "My Queen, are you hurt? You dealt with the monsters very quickly. Not that we had any doubts," she said. Her long black hair had been cut short, not even touching the shoulders. There was a foul smell in the air, which not even the fine perfumes the elf used to rub on her skin could completely cover. In fact, that mixture made the air even more unbreathable. "Need something? Speak, and it will be provided to you."

    It was more circumstance than anything else that motivated that futile question. Agravaine of all people would have been stunned if the opposite had come true. When Antilene reassured her with a nod, she could see that her sister''s attention was already turned towards Erya, and the three who were hiding shyly behind him.

    As inclement as it was, Antilene could not help but consider that scene disgusting in its lameness. Perhaps it was because it brought back a memory of an equally loaded character of weakness. A fragility that had molded her into what she was today, but which did not seem to be able to replicate the same effects on others in situations that were not necessarily pleasant.

    "Is this the secret passage indicated by the Queen?" Impressing her was difficult, that had to be admitted. When one succeeded, however, it was always in the negative, as in this case. "A sewer? Now I understand why nobody dared to venture into this place before."

    Already, just by taking a quick glance at the entrance, rows of slime intent on devouring the dirt and whatever else was unclean and ugly from that burrow could be seen, giving reason to an existence that would otherwise only be aberrant. Some insects, in their stupidity, were caught in the formless boulders and quickly consumed, until nothing of them remained, making doubts arise that they had been in that place from the beginning.

    Melina stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. "Sir Niles and his unit have already set out. Once inside, they will begin to make contact with some informants waiting for us inside the city." The minotaur''s monumental body in that confined space had certainly suffered from a lack of mobility. It was not a gentle reaction, nor was it meant to be, but Antilene could not help but externalize a small laugh at the scene that was becoming vivid before her eyes. "Some nobles who are still loyal to the prince are waiting for the signal, with their troops in position. There are not many, but any help will be welcome. If you are ready, we can reach them at this very moment."

    They nodded in silence, leaving Melina the arduous task of leading the way. If the smell had been unbearable before, now that they were getting deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels and slimes, the stench rose to the ceiling with particular intensity, leaving little chance to inhale clean air at the top of their lungs.

    On a positive note, as if to counteract that torture to the nostrils, the floors were kept incredibly clean and tidy by the guests who lived there. Even the drain that connected the river with who knows what part of the upper part of Karnasus was much clearer than one might have expected. From the ceiling, small drops fell at almost regular intervals, a sign that the pipes would benefit from a little check-up. Unfortunately, in wartime, as in peacetime after all, it was never easy to find a good plumber.

    The group walked in single file, too little space to allow them another line-up. Sometimes the corridors widened slightly, allowing a little extra mobility, but this was promptly snatched away before they could even get used to it.

    "It will take more than one bath to get this stench off. I am reminded of a similar incident I had the pleasure of solving a few years earlier." It had to be admitted that Erya, more than anyone else, felt comfortable in that place. Beneath the sequins and delicate skin, the heart of a mercenary and adventurer beat strongly. A soldier who was not afraid to get dirty with mud and dung, if it would accomplish the mission he had been given. "I was in the service of a nobleman of the Empire. A marquis, all medals and armor. A typical example of a blowhard who spends more time smoothing his mustache than sharpening the blade of his sword."

    No one urged him to continue, but no one signaled him to stop either. It was enough to spur Enya to carry on narrating his anecdote. Antilene perked up her ears, curious and ready to determine whether it would be possible to re-evaluate an opinion that had perhaps become granitic too quickly.

    "They had problems with some toadmen. Nasty little beasts. Usually the imperial knights are enough to fend them off, but this time the attacks became more treacherous. A special unit was hastily assembled, with me and other workers teams as the spearhead. The taxes of the empire were not wasted to ensure security, this must be admitted."

    "I met several toadmen. Some valiantly defended the Union during the span of the Equestrian King''s first invasions," said Melina, who was otherwise happy to keep her focus on her current task.

    Erya cleared his throat. "Of course. No one doubts that." One of the elves stumbled, brushing against a puddle. The Theocracy swordsman stopped and checked that nothing had gone out of place, then resumed as if nothing had happened. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Toadmen. The bastards... The proud enemies I faced that time had gotten smart. They had trained an experienced ranger corps, and had some beasts to ride that allowed them quick and quiet raids. A kind of giant insect, but with fewer legs and more fur. Truly despicable. Luckily, fire was their weakness. Once discovered, it was easy to drive their ranks wild. "

    They reached a fork, from which three large exits could be entered. "This way," Melina pointed to the right, continuing to maintain her lead position. The space began to widen, making the passage more comfortable. Even the air began to become less thin and more pleasant.

    "You were saying, Ser Erya?" Antilene, partly to fight boredom, partly because she hated stories without endings, urged her countryman to resume what he was saying.

    The latter, if he had been pleased with the remark, carefully tried not to show it, clearing his throat, he let one of his servants hand him some water contained in a small glass bottle. "For days, but what I say, for weeks, I ventured into poisonous swamps and monstrosity-infested rivers in search of the enemy. One of the elves I had with me did not make it, as poison and other untoward effects accumulated with too much speed and insistence. A pity, but such is life."

    One of the elves, the same one who had earlier addressed Antilene, looked away, as if the mere mention of those events had dug an open wound in her chest.

    Agravaine remained impassive, her face a mask of diaphanous wax. She exchanged a shifty glance with Antilene, who sighed in reply.

    "In any case," Erya continued, oblivious. "When we found them, many were the precautions we had to use to counteract the miasmas rising from the swamp. It is said that a couple of witches made that area their refuge, and I have no difficulty believing it. I could swear I heard devilish whispers as the work was done. Many men were lost that day¡­" He paused with the narration, almost as if he were praying for those broken lives. "But in the end, as it should be, not a single one of the toadmen remained survivor. For every imperial knight lost, tenfold was the vengeance we inflicted on them. Their leader mumbled something about survival and mercy, but severed heads, it is known, cannot beg. I earned a lot of gold from that venture... which allowed me to recoup my losses."

    Of the three slaves, one of them froze, but not from the cold. It was something far more unpleasant that had caused her to lose what little composure she had left.

    "It was very interesting," Antilene said, wrinkling her nose. "Why did you wish to share this memory with us?"

    "For comfort," Erya''s lips carved a satisfied smile on his face. "Already once I have faced a feat in unpleasant places. And I can say that I emerged victorious. And many other situations I have encountered were similar to this one. I do not pretend to be aware of what you are feeling, but I want to be blunt in letting you know that there is nothing to fear. Not as long as you are by my side."

    In his own way, there was a certain gentleness that shone through what he spoke. Mixed with perhaps too high an opinion of himself, there was no doubt. But Antilene was well aware that modesty was the virtue of modest people.

    A few minutes of quiet followed, even given the unhurriedness of their gait. By now, midnight was approaching, and the night would soon guide their venture into the city.

    The sewers grew more spacious with each passing moment, as did the presence of the creatures that haunted those places. A brood of baby rats feasted on some now decayed remains of flesh that had lost its freshness by only the Gods knew how much. One of them, noticing the unexpected visitors, approached after finishing with the meal.

    "What is it, little one, are you lost?" Antilene tenderly lifted it up by the tail when she became aware of its presence. "Why are you looking at me like this?"

    The little rat began to squirm when it was no longer in contact on the ground, until it focused on Antilene. Just seeing the half-elf calmed him completely, were it not for a tremor that began to run through the tiny body and the absolute horror that gushed from his eyes.

    Antilene tried to caress him, only to see her forefinger bitten off. There was a crack, but no pain followed. Not for the half-elf, at least. The rat fell to the ground, its jaw completely shattered, blood spilling from its mouth in droves.

    "Ahhh it''s always like this. That''s why I hate animals. They are so fragile," the half-elf complained. Displeasure was felt at seeing the scene, but it passed as quickly as it had come. "And, often, too prone to terror. They usually run away, but this little mouse must have felt trapped.I mistook its fear for tranquility." There was a note of sadness in her voice. And regret.

    Her sister, in response, cast a¡ºHeal¡»on her bitten finger. "Did you feel anything strange? We don''t know if some of these creatures have developed some particular mutation." Agravaine was slightly apprehensive, but hers was a spontaneous reaction, which was soon suppressed by the realization of who was the object of her concerns.

    "I thank you for your thoughtfulness. But as you can clearly see, the skin has not even been scratched. Nor did the sign of any poison remain." And if such an insignificant creature had been able to cause permanent effects on her body, Antilene would have been happy to concede victory. "Put an end to your worries, then. I have encountered creatures and beasts of all kinds, and none have ever surprised me to such an extent that I considered myself in danger."

    When Antilene was still part of the Black Scriptures, there had been a training session she took part in, not actively, just as a spectator. Quaiesse''s basilisks had been traumatized by her mere presence and, as Clementine had reported, not without some satisfaction and admiration, it had taken her brother weeks just to return them to their former ferocity.

    "I''ve been blown away for days on end," that had been the only occasion on which Windstride had made the slightest kind and sincere gesture to her, Antilene recalled. Evidently, the contempt she felt for Quaiesse was greater than the awe she felt for the half-elf.

    "Just thinking about my brother''s face set like a mannequin just so as not to offend you..." She said, not without letting slip a few unflattering comments about her twin. "...Fearing that your wrath might come down on him at any moment. Oh, joy and delight."

    Antilene had merely smiled and replied, "I hope the basilisks recover quickly." Then she had shelved the question, not giving it much thought. More than anything, it was Clementine''s gaze that had left her intrigued. It was the same as she had done during the baptism of blood.

    Sweet Clementine, one wondered what she was doing at that moment. Most of all, Antilene hoped she was doing the Black Scripture''s name proud.

    In any case, animals tended to behave that way with her. If Antilene had wanted a pet, it would have been wise to fall back on far braver breeds. She could have asked the forest lord of Evasha for a baby dragon, but the work to train it would have been far too much, and so the half-elf desisted from the idea.

    "We have arrived." Melina turned her thoughts away from that nonsense, focusing her attention on a large barred iron door in a secluded corridor quite far from the main paths. "Just where it was indicated." She slipped a key into the lock and pushed hard. It didn''t take long, and a little hiss gave the go-ahead. "Are you ready?"

    Antilene, who did not consider herself a vain person, adjusted the chain mail under her jacket, which hung slightly towards the right side of her arm. It was a simple chainmail, enchanted to withstand fatigue and the most superficial cuts. Otherwise, it was sorely lacking, especially compared to the very different protection she was used to.

    "Yes."

    To kill, one had to be flawless, to show one last courtesy to those who would soon be alive no more.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    It was dark, of course. Given the hour, only a few torches strategically placed at the corners of the deepest streets of that city maze provided enough illumination to avoid sharpening one''s eyesight. Not too much.

    The secret passageway led into a small outhouse on the far eastern edge of the city of Karnasus. From there, the royal palace, located at the highest part of the citadel, was clearly visible. Few people were still roaming the streets, most gathered in the still noisy taverns or in the cozier hearths of their homes.

    There were guards, many. More than they had hoped for but not as many as they had anticipated.

    "Follow me," Melina had a map, which she consulted with a methodical promptness. "Our contact is waiting for us nearby." To avoid surveillance, they carefully traversed only the less busy and infamous streets. In truth, even those were well cleaned and the few beggars present dozed blissfully on the corners, avoiding disturbing them. They had warm blankets with them, and it was natural to wonder whether that had been a surviving legacy of the previous prince, or a sign of welcome from the new masters.

    Otherwise, there was little news. The Queen of Ris had given them some medallions, imbued with a magic that made it difficult for even the most experienced rangers to notice. Only one guard, a piercing-eyed centaur, had asked a few questions when he had come across them by pure chance.

    He was the type to start calling his comrades before even being given answers. The half-elf replied in her own way, snapping his neck as a letter of introduction. It was sufficient credentials, she judged. If he had any complaints at all, the unfortunate fellow would unfortunately have to wait some time before he could address them. The queue for hell was longer than the stairway to heaven. They could have met halfway.

    "Wait here a moment." Antilene took the body, careful that no one saw it, and took a small leap towards the roof of a nearby house. She left it there, without giving a second glance. By the time they would find him, the conflict would be well and truly over.

    "Perhaps we should have found a more suitable place," Melina said. Her impassive restraint showed little signs of apprehension. "If someone were to notice, there could be trouble."

    Antilene did not share those concerns, though she understood them. "You have nothing to worry about. The tenants of that house were in the arms of the lord of dreams, and they wouldn''t have woken up even if the Dragon Emperor himself had knocked on their doors. And I placed the corpse in a spot where the lighting was not just poor, but totally absent. Before the sun makes it possible to have a clear idea that something is there, we will already be finished with our mission."

    "I suppose we cannot do otherwise." The knight declared herself defeated, but wasted no time in regretting that misfortune; she was already on the march, running in the streets as if they were her own.

    "What if no one finds it?" Agravaine asked, glancing carefully at the map. "Will we think about giving the soldier a decent burial once the mission is accomplished?"

    Clement Agravaine; the appellation of saint would not have been out of place, such was her compassion. A heart so resplendent that at times it could induce the impression that it was made of gold, the heart pumping blood through her veins.

    "I believe it is common practice in the East to leave bodies outside so that vultures can feed on them. It''s a form of sacredness," the ritual also involved the bodies being skinned so that the entrails were in plain sight, but Antilene avoided mentioning this. "He''ll be fine, don''t give it too much thought." Enough for as long as a dead man could be, at least.

    Her sister did not look convinced, but nodded resignedly. "I''ll try to remember that." Her eyes were downcast, and her voice was faint.

    ''Maybe it would have been better to leave her behind,'' Antilene thought. ''I don''t think she was made for tasks like this.'' The half-elf did not externalize these broodings of hers, merely remaining quiet.

    It was not long before they arrived at a small, unassuming and inconspicuous dwelling, which blended in with ease among its peers.

    Melina knocked on the door, with three light touches. When the door opened, two small, brown, beady eyes could be glimpsed. A pointed beak peeped out from the slit. "Who are you?" The voice was full of suspicion, but at the same time a small inflection could be detected... a little naturalness that suggested that this was just the script of an act that had already been written.

    "The stars whisper to the moon and say ''Hello, Teacher''."

    The door closed again after Melina had reported that sentence. Then, without giving the opportunity to wait, the sound of a bolt being turned was heard, leaving the lock free. "Enter." Opening the door was a bird-like demi-human covered in cobalt blue feathers. He wore only a spacious tunic, which gave ample space for the wings that replaced his arms.

    When everyone had entered the small dwelling, he gave one last circumspect glance at the street, until the door was slowly closed again.

    The demihuman seated them in a small living room, not spacious enough for everyone. The three elves remained outside to wait, in a small adjoining hall.

    "Are you the first ones here?" The pointed and long beak opened and closed just as easily as a human mouth. "You are not enough."

    "Others have set off to other areas, to fulfill other tasks," Melina looked around, letting her sword rest just in front of the host. "You shouldn''t care about that, Darkol. I can assure you that our number will not be a cause for concern. The Queen has given you a specific mission, have you been able to accomplish it?"

    The birdman opened a small cupboard, where something resembling noodles rested on a plate. He divided it into small portions, which were then handed to them. Only then did Antilene realize that what was inside the bowls were small worms. Still alive, at that.

    "We thank you for your hospitality," Melina, as well as Agravaine and the three elves, had no trouble enjoying that dish, if it could be called that. Even Erya, wavering, was giving a taste. Only Antilene remained dry-mouthed.

    "The elf is not hungry?"

    "I''m afraid my stomach is full. But I am grateful for your generosity nonetheless."

    The demi-human looked at her carefully, shaking his head. "If you say so. They have been marinated in special sauces, which enhance their crunchiness without losing their original flavor. I added some spices that gave them a strong, aromatic aftertaste. A typical Karnasus delicacy."

    "They are indeed exquisite." And the worst thing was that Agravaine sounded completely sincere. The differences between Antilene and the other members of the company were becoming more and more obvious.

    Darkol thanked her. The way he moved was peculiar. There was a certain distrust... but lacking in naturalness. It was artificial, the result of many rehearsals. But Antilene''s inquisitor skill,¡ºLies'' Detection¡», activated at that very moment, detected nothing, so it was unlikely he was lying to them. For another part, no-one ever lied, for the unconscious escaped total control, and so that made him all the more suspicious.

    "We didn''t come here to talk about Darkol cuisine." Melina had quickly brushed off the offer, leaving only an empty bowl on the table. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Time is fleeting."

    The demi-human sighed, some of the feathers on his head moving slightly with him. "The western gate is clear, just a few sentries of circumstance. It would be perfect to get the troops through there." A pause. This, too, seemed planned. "That''s what I would have told you this morning. Before General Chazos arrived here with his army. At least five thousand soldiers now wait outside the city. I do not know who warned them, but they know of your presence."

    "I see." Melina smoothed her chin. "Beppo Allo got here earlier than we expected. That complicates things."

    "What do we do?" Antilene asked. Five thousand did not seem like such a terrifying number, but using herself as a yardstick was not always the wisest choice. "I could take care of it if you want."

    Darkol laughed. Finally, a genuine reaction. "If you intend to die, go ahead. Beppo Allo''s force is the best trained in the Union, now that Prince Alexander is no longer here among us. And they will be able to count on the support of the Immortals."

    Antilene decided to ignore that little lack of trust. It was a natural reaction, no reason to resent it. "Our informant told us that two of them are here to administer the city. Is that true?" Tiribazus had shown a long tongue, once it had been pulled not too gently at him. The half-elf appreciated those who were easy to talk to, especially if they were not on her side. A quality appreciable in enemies, and hated in friends.

    "The prince''s palace is currently occupied by two of them, yes." Darkol replied. His eyes shifted to Antilene and, for a second that seemed longer than normal, remained fixed and perceptive. "The Dragon''s Jaws and the Forest''s Horns. One of the satraps was also there, but he abandoned the city a few weeks ago."

    "Ah, the coward!" An unsolicited comment came out of Erya''s mouth. "A caution to be appreciated, despite the fact that I find it difficult to be pleased with this development. Delfina is bloodthirsty, and I do not know if the offer I can give it will be sufficient. It will be those who call themselves immortal who will be sacrificed as a gift, in this case. Immortals - will they live up to their name? Or will an empty title be all they can claim?"

    The demi-human''s beak contracted into a grimace. Some might have said the offense had been ill-received by him. Some of bad faith. Others, like Antilene, would have understood that his was a natural reaction to what was arrogance and pride. But was all this wrong?

    "I would be careful if I were you, human. The Immortals command the chosen troops of the Equestrian King. Forged in blood and covered in orichalcum and adamantium, war was their teacher and conflict their preceptor. When the siege was over, and the city was overrun, Prince Alexander''s best friend and first sword of Karnasus challenged the Dragon''s Jaws to a duel. The Brave, he was called. The Brave. Brave and stupid."

    "I am only one of two things," Erya replied, annoyed yet amused. "In the end, I will let you choose which one. And when that time comes¡­" He did not finish the sentence, letting his all too friendly smile be threat enough.

    "So The Brave is really dead?" Melina lowered her gaze. A mourning that could only last a few seconds, and even those would be too many. "Did he fight valiantly, at least?"

    Valor. Would valor have made his departure any sweeter?

    "That I cannot know." Darkol made himself small, as if the very subject was a source of discomfort and dishonor to him. "I was not there when it happened, hiding like a rat in this house. I know he fell in the square of the Black Blade, the same place where the Dark Knight is said to have mourned his beloved, slain by the Demon King. Humpf¡­" He snorted¡­ With a certain smugness? "Evil tongues have insinuated that Prince Alexander did not honor his heritage, running away like a coward and leaving the one he loved to die."

    "Whether his death meant anything is not for us to decide." Said Melina. The regret was already gone, as fast as it had come. "The living are the ones who should be in our thoughts now. Darkol, what do you advise us to do? The original plan was to let our troops in quietly, once the gates had been opened and the sentries disposed of. But as soon as they move, General Chazos will pounce on them like lightning."

    "I don''t think there are many alternatives left at the moment." Resignation was to be expected in Darkol. Much was to be expected... "You should split up, though there are already too few of you. Open the gates, and head to the royal palace. If you could eliminate the Immortals and strengthen your positions, you might be able to hold out enough in the high citadel." He paused for a moment, bringing one of the worms still crawling in Antilene''s dish to his mouth. "But this is frankly an almost impossible plan. If you had taken the palace and surrounded the citadel in advance, you might have succeeded. Considering how many centaurs hold the city, you are seriously outnumbered. At this point... You are still in time to retreat. That would be wise."

    Wisdom, a word that held an all too seductive comfort.

    "No¡­" Melina looked at everyone present, starting with Agravaine and Erya, passing through Darkol, and ending with Antilene. When her gaze met with the half-elf, she announced decisively, "We will do as you advise. Agravaine and I will go to meet Sir Niles and his men, to help them open the gates. Erya and the elves, with Antilene''s support, will eliminate the Immortals."

    "I couldn''t have asked for better," Erya was already standing on the threshold with the three elves at his side. "I will bring the heads of the Immortals as a gift. Don''t worry, I''ll be careful to let them not move much once they''re detached from their necks. That is if their title is true, and their eyes do not close like everyone else''s."

    "Dorkal, thank you for everything. If it is the will of the Gods, I will see you at the end of this." Melina also rose from the table, and Agravaine and Antilene soon followed her.

    "Don''t thank me, I''m sending you to your deaths, aren''t I?" The demi-human did not even look at their faces. "... I did everything I could to save you. Remember this, at least."

    Melina smiled sweetly at him. "Of course. We will remember." There was a note of melancholy. "Goodbye."

    When they were outside, the moon was beginning to set in the deep night.

    "Then, we will go. Take care." Said Agravaine. Antilene could not help but notice concern in her greeting. "My Queen, please be careful."

    "As always." Antilene took one last look at her sister and Melina walking away. "You go ahead," she instructed Erya. "I forgot something in Dorkal''s house. I''ll catch up with you in a moment."

    The swordsman did not let that be repeated twice. "Just pray it''s not all over when you get there." And without adding anything else, he moved into the darkness with his slaves.

    Left alone, Antilene did what needed to be done. ''It begins,'' glancing quickly at the stars that shone lazily in the sky, the half-elf called forth an oath. It was a night, like many others, when peace demanded not to be disturbed and sleep was the undisputed lord of that realm.

    She re-entered the house by herself, just for the blink of an eye, and went out no longer alone.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The citadel was so called, but it was no more than a tall palace surrounded by thick walls. The white marble of the structure shone in the darkness of the night, cascading like a shower of pearls over the highest part of Karnasus.

    There were guards on those walls. There were guards, and then there were no more. During an infiltration, Antilene had realized that there were two alternatives. The most capable assassins were shadows slipping through the cracks of careful and capable sentinels, who made distraction and uncertainty their ally. Skills honed in silence and whispers, which required specific magical abilities to counteract. Death veterans, Surshana''s heralds. Heaven and Earth, of the Black Scriptures, had taken these abilities to the extreme, merging into the very darkness that became his dwelling home.

    For her part, the half-elf, though she had some smattering in the art of assassination, was far more adept in the second way. If no one was left to raise the alarm, was it not the same as not being noticed by anyone?

    "There were not only centaurs," Erya had commented, resting his sword in its scabbard. Not a drop of blood had soiled the blade, which continued to shine as if it had just come out of the forge. "Evidently, many of these guards have passed to the enemy from their original master. Scum always remains scum, no matter what you call them."

    For those used to the great plains, the rocky terrain of the walls must not have been entirely comfortable. It was no wonder, then, that the labor used was preferably of a very different caliber.

    "Who are you?" One of the half-horsemen, probably commander of that unit, found no explanation for his question. Of the elves, it was a girl with dark hair and a sorrowful smile that slit his neck with a small knife, seeking desperate approval from her master. Approval that never came.

    "Let''s go." Antilene''s hands were free of dirt or other filth. The half-elf took one last look behind her, feeling the blood pooling on her fingers. Plock. Plock. Drop by drop. Though her whole body remained clean. Though the whiteness of her skin was unaffected. "I want to finish as soon as possible."

    An elf with skin as pale as the moon shining in the sky lay at her feet. He was old, and his death could not have been called a waste. He was still clutching the spear with which he had, foolishly, attempted to strike her. He had not even realized that his last moments had been taken from him, and that the end had come inexorably. So there was peace in his eyes. A luxury that not many were granted. Like him, many others. Like him, more would follow. A number, no more, no less.

    "Wasting time with this rubbish is humiliating. Where are the Immortals that are so extolled? Have they lost their courage?" Erya''s palate knew only one taste: that of glory and riches. And the more they were taken away from him, the more his hunger grew. Hesitation was a doubt that did not befit one who had attained enlightenment. "At this rate, nothing more will remain to be extolled. If no one witnesses our exploits, who will be able to celebrate our greatness?"

    They had penetrated the right wing of the palace, infiltrating a closely guarded keep. Guarded by corpses, for these remained at the end. Their arrival had now been foretold, if not by the noise, by the impregnating stench of death. That smell that not even a thousand baths would have dispersed; that not even magic would have eliminated. So pleasant, so disgusting.

    They descended endless stairs, paying attention to the smallest noise. Traps had been set at the sides of the tower''s main entrance. One of the elves warned of their presence. To disarm them would have taken too long, so Antilene''s decision was obvious.

    The flames that shot out when his foot landed on the floor were hellish. Hot and burning, yet for the half-elf it was nothing more than a gust of wind just a little warmer than usual.

    "Humpf," she dislodged a little dust that had accumulated on the chain mail. "Are they finished? Getting dirty isn''t a problem, but I''m not a big fan of extremely high temperatures."

    The elf looked at her first incredulously, then with a flicker of something even she didn''t believe -or hope- was still in her. The dirty blond hair on the forehead was shifted, revealing a look that was now vague, now bright. "Yes, there are no more." She replied, with a barely sketched smile. Yet there it was.

    Erya remained silent, but did not utter a word. Actually, he only said something, through clenched teeth. "Nonsense." A star could not allow anything to shine brighter than it, especially if it was pure, unadulterated darkness.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    They walked a few more meters before they found themselves in a cozy room.

    "Let''s stop for a moment." Antilene ordered.

    "Are you tired already?" Erya''s long, golden hair moved, as if a perceived victory had brought his entire being to pleasure. "Stop, if you so wish. But I could go all night."

    "You certainly could. But not your slaves," the half-elf retorted. "If you wish to go on alone, I will not stop you. But could you untangle yourself unaided in this unknown place?"

    Erya bit his lip, but did not continue the discussion. Antilene took out a roll of parchment, which she handed to him and his companions.

    "Use this to heal yourselves and relieve fatigue. We cannot afford to waste precious mana."

    "You have no need of it, my lady?" One of the elves asked, the same one with the red hair who had addressed her when they were still outside the city. Of the three, she seemed the one with the most initiative, relatively speaking.

    "No, I am still as fresh as a rose." It wasn''t just the necklace of vitality under her shirt that made her unwearied. Nothing had caught the half-elf''s attention more than it should have, and a little careful pulling of the blade was all that had been required from the start of the mission. "You are under my protection at this time, and I must take your needs into account."

    Was this what was required of Aeneas and his predecessors? To know that at any moment, those who followed you might no longer be there, and you alone would be to blame. It left an unpleasant bitterness. Fighting and commanding were two distinct things, and the affinities that had to be developed to excel in both had as many commonalities as different paths. Another deficiency, which could hardly be filled, Antilene reflected.

    Perfection was the domain of the Gods. What was left for her, then?

    "How much longer do we have to stay here?" Patience was a virtue. A virtue Erya lacked. "Do you not hear them, my lady? The bells rang. They are ringing for us. They sing a hymn of freedom and immortality, which minstrels will try to replicate in the years to come." The stillness engulfed them in its indifference.

    Antilene ignored him, sinking into the soft cushions of the armchair on which her backside had found solace. The room was small, but comfortable. A modestly sized painting depicting a smiling, affable young man adorned the room.

    ''That should be Prince Alexander,'' assumed the half-elf, paying attention to the subject staring at her carefully behind the canvas. Blue eyes and hair of a deep light reminiscent of the ocean, strangely resembling seaweed, a slightly pulled face and small, plump lips. ''I feel like I''ve seen him before, but where? Looking at him like that, proud and imposing, I bet never the prince thought he would have to flee from what he surely considered his immortal realm. Flee, or something worse.''

    She sighed, closing her eyes slightly. In the vacuous and pleasant nothingness, the world unfolded in a few colors. Red, above all. Screams begging for mercy overlapped with battle cries, reducing to a silent, religious clamor. They were reminiscent of the celebrations of the Cathedrals of Darkness, burning with a subdued passion, no the less furious, and desperate melodies, no the less joyous. The goal of all life was death. Never had that invocation, that formula, been so true.

    Antilene opened her eyelids again, slowly. The darkness was ceasing, but never leaving her. Her hands, gloves removed, continued to be white, pale. They were snowflakes in a summer valley. No matter how many sins, or blessings perhaps, they stained themselves; they remained as they were the day they sprang from her mother''s womb.

    There were no windows in the room. The door had been carefully closed. Yet, Antilene knew what was going on outside the small space she had carved out for them. She knew, and approved of it. If a mirror had been placed in front of her, the half-elf could have observed a reflected image filled with satisfaction. That same satisfaction that only manifested itself when one was certain of having fulfilled the sanctity of their duty.

    "Let''s go." How long had it been since they had been there? No more than a few minutes, to be generous. It was strange that no one had scouted them; part of her had expected and wished for it. "You''re ready, aren''t you?"

    The elves nodded; Erya spoke with facts, placing himself at the head of the line. His going was confident and contemptuous, tainted by an all too careless haste. If he had been within a few meters of other pitfalls, would his slaves have acted as was to be expected of them, or would they have left him to stew? Antilene found the prospect interesting.

    Vague thoughts, which did not materialize into reality. Indeed, they found no further obstacles or ambushes. Which was but a sign of something worse that was waiting for them.

    ''Funny.'' Danger teased forbidden and not entirely healthy fantasies. A dangerous toxin, not good for health; very exciting for an annoyed existence.

    When they reached the innermost part of the palace, a large hall appeared before them. Candelabras on the walls diffused a calm and persuasive light, illuminating the splendid marble of the walls. Bronze masks with linear features in their eyebrows and ear lines and volumetric features in their noses and eyelids stared like eerie, immortal presences from the edge of the walls.

    A wooden throne in the center. Above it, banners, twelve in all, each for the cities of the Union. It was easy to recognise Ris''s flower, but others remained unknown to Antilene.

    If she had to bet, in any case, she would have easily pointed out which one belonged to Karnasus, because of its central position and the exact correspondence in line with the kings'' chair.

    A sixteen-ray star, entirely embroidered in a shining golden fabric. Like the sun in the sky, it was there to illuminate everything it touched, on each of the four hinges.

    Erya glanced at it in passing. "So this was where that famous prince sat his royal ass?" Devoid of any form of respect, he made what had been the throne of the previous kings his own. The only thing that could be noticed was how out of place it all appeared. "A kingdom... Yes, that would be nice. I could ask for it as a reward once the job is done. Erya Uzruth, first ruler of House Uzruth. That doesn''t sound too bad. Doesn''t sound bad at all."

    His gaze was already lost in dreams of might and feats of vainglory. Antilene looked at him, wondering if it was thrones that made kings, or kings that made thrones. The Cardinals'' choice to refuse those high seats had never seemed so sensible. It was so easy for corruption to mislead minds and inspire desires.

    "My lady," Erya addressed her, scornfully feigning courtesy. "You may sit next to me, if that pleases you. There is not much space, but I know how to make it comfortable."

    Falsehood, since that seat could have held ten, of Erya Uzruth.

    "I am forced to decline," said the half-elf. "Already once the same proposal was made to me, and already once I refused." Compared with the Bloody Emperor, this was just a grotesque parody of a ruler. Yet, if placed one before the other, Erya would have had no trouble passing Jircniv by the edge of the sword. Was it therefore force, perchance, that decreed the birthright? Antilene, for that matter, had won her crown in that same fashion. Not so different, the two of them. "I only pray that you pay attention. From my experience, sovereigns are deposed as easily as they rise to power. Had my late father still been here, he might have treasured this warning."

    But if Decem Hougan had been there, the same could not have been said for Antilene. If Decem Hougan had been there, the half-elf''s life would have taken a different path. If Decem Hougan had been there, the world would have been a different place. Worse, so Antilene hoped. Better? So Antilene refused.

    "But there is only us here," the swordsman replied. Descending from his throne, he continued to tower over the empty room, like the star he thought he was, under the prince''s banner. "Or maybe not?"

    And then loneliness made way for company. Unwanted company, to be more precise. Formed by armed soldiers who, imitating an anthill in the midst of gathering food for the winter, had filled every corner of the square. Their hubbub broke the silence, and their breaths filled the air with a rancid, unwelcome stench.

    "They flocked, as if wanting to end their lives as painlessly as possible." Once again, Antilene pulled out her scythe. The pawing of the centaurs'' hooves became more deafening. "Please, new prince. Show your wisdom and foresight by driving the invaders from your kingdom. What is the duty of a king but to watch over his subjects?"

    "What is the duty of a king, if not to punish those who dare disobey?" Erya laughed, letting the first blood be his. And so the second. The third, it was Antilene''s turn. The following ones, too, were the work of the half-elf. His laughter was still going, when the tongue that had made that lingering guttural sound so much snapped like a whip. "Incredible."

    A trail had formed at their feet. A trail that shunned life in its entirety. Not only centaurs formed that scrum.

    Orthrus with fierce, fleshy extremities. Consumed everything, their mouths. Their weapons were made for killing, for mangling. If there was anything sacred, they had not known it.

    Grey-skinned Armanites, covered in thick armor. Their skin was decaying and worn, their screams imposed terror and implacability. Demonic helmets, made of spikes and blades. Every body part carefully designed to kill, every protrusion sharpened to tear flesh to shreds.

    Bariaur with long beards, and even longer sticks. Druids by birth, connoisseurs of magic by vocation. They shouted in unknown tongues, letting their spells cloak allies, and destroy enemies.

    "Is that all?" Antilene huffed boredly, letting the spears scrap through the jacket, arrows and magic run over her. What was raised was dust, what was accomplished was her indifference. Charon''s Guidance had pierced their lines, dispersed their formations, and spiraled their charges. "Nothing better? Nothing more? The elves were more tenacious. But perhaps you lack something. The arrogance of the victors? Is that what moves you?" Her reflections were addressed to no one in particular, except perhaps to herself. "I suppose there is always something to learn. Don''t give in to hubris, even when it would be so easy to do so."

    No one moved an inch any more. What was a profound difference had dug into their deepest convictions.

    They had been brave, the soldiers of the Great Plains. Antilene loved brave enemies. "Give me a thousand brave enemies rather than a hundred-thousand cowards!" She used to say. For the brave were also the first to die, the first to enter the fray. They gave efficiency to what was her task. For that, she knew how to be grateful.

    But now... there they were, scattered and powerless. Only after the death of a few dozen of them. With Charon''s Guidance still not satisfied, for that paltry offering. They retreated, the brave soldiers of the plains. They retreated with every step the half-elf, listlessly, took.

    The tip of the scythe, still wet with crimson drops, divided the world. "I drew this line of blood. Whoever dares enter may join." No one stepped forward.

    Erya stood beside her, sword still drawn. "Is there no one brave enough to challenge a young girl? How can you call yourselves warriors?" His was the tone of the victor.

    "Interesting." From the enemy ranks, two presences stepped forward. The first to speak was a straight being, a strange mixture of a great centaur and a wingless dragon. His size, far greater than all the others, made his lizard-like head touch the ceiling. "Your words, human, will have to be followed by action. If it is an honorable duel you want, the Immortals are here to grant it to you."

    He flashed a predatory grin; long rows of sharp, pointed teeth led the way from a mud-green mouth. The armor, pure adamantium with red and silver sparks, covered an equally imposing and monstrous body.

    "I would not be so proud if I were you." Accompanying him was a far more delicate presence. "At this hour you will be the last remaining intruders. It will not be long before your strength will desert you and you will be overwhelmed by our soldiers." The face, crushed and devoid of any pattern that could be traced back to humans, was devoid of anything similar to a familiar expression . The lower body, which brought to mind the proudest of deer, kicked impatiently. On the head, majestic antlers would have made any crown pale in comparison.

    Sure enough, the two Immortals had taken the field.

    "What makes you think our comrades have already perished?" Antilene asked, focusing on the weapons their new enemies carried. A serrated ax, with a skull splitting the two blades, and a scepter of fine wood set with precious stones. ''A barbarian and an enchanter? A druid, or perhaps a shaman?''

    What must have been the Dragon''s Jaws began to cover the small distance that separated them. "Idiots. From the beginning your every move was known to us. If we let you run undisturbed like rabbits, it was only so we could destroy you more easily. You, and those who were still loyal to the old regime. We must thank you, because you have finally given us the opportunity to uncover and condemn the traitors." He was ready to pounce at any moment, of that there was no doubt.

    "Humpf... you want me to believe that there was a spy among us? Or perhaps you knew about the secret passage?"

    "Both," continued the latter, standing firm to his original position. A host of centaurs had taken to shielding him. "As soon as you set foot in this city, the informant was tasked with alerting our elimination teams. All we needed was the names of the nobles still hostile to us. By this time, the job will have been done. And General Chazos will have exterminated that small contingent you call an army outside our walls." The Forest''s Horns moved his eyes, small and devilish, towards the half-elf. His face seemed to contort into what was a smile filled with irony.

    Antilene scratched her forehead. "I see. So once he welcomed us, your informant blew the whistle like a good little soldier." From the endless pouch, the half-elf began to extract something. Still slimy and gross. "Then I was right to do what I did. Take it."

    Darkol''s head was thrown towards them. His eyes, still open, begged for the answer to a single question: ''Why?''

    It was always that one. The lack of originality made the work extremely pedantic.

    "Did you notice that? I thought the magical shielding made it impossible to trace the control spells." The disbelief of that funny cross between fawn and fairy was reward enough.

    "Nono. Nothing I could perceive," the amused half-elf explained. "Really great work, your magic. Was it your doing, wasn''t it? No need to open your mouth. I already know who I have to thank for this." Every debt was due to be paid. And the collecting would have started now¡­ "It was my instinct that warned me. Of traitors I admit I have seen very few, but my nose has never been wrong about such things."

    "What if you were wrong?"

    Antilene shrugged her shoulders. "Just one less bird in this world. I would have shed no tears for him."

    Surprise disappeared from the Forest Horns. Disgust was what decorated his features now. "In any case, nothing changes. Your comrades will have already been taken by surprise. If even some managed to save themselves, we will take care of them once we have finished here."

    Another assumption dictated by security. The half-elf did not condemn them for that. If anything, she found that display of perceived control all the more fascinating.

    "A thousand soldiers, maybe more. Hidden in every nook and cranny of the city. I wouldn''t have found the majority of them, if I didn''t get a little help." The face of Darkol continued to watch her. Antilene had to restrain her good humor so as not to appear too overconfident. "A great mixture of numerous races, many would have been impressed. A well-executed trap... Ahh if only it had worked. I don''t think there are enough graves in this town''s cemetery. Well, since you guys dug it yourselves, we can save at least a little bit of time."

    "You are lying." Finally, a crack. Anger was what Antilene was looking for and had finally found. "Even if you were capable of such folly, you never moved from the palace. About the minotaur and the Dark Knight we already were aware of all there is to know. There is no way they could have survived such disparity in numbers."

    "Am I?"

    Neither Immortal countered that affirmation. They couldn''t.

    "Now enough of this nonsense," Erya intervened, annoyed. "Nothing matters, outside of here. Step forward, and let us put an end to this." Probably, he felt pulled out of it all. Lovely, in a way. "Which one of you will be my opponent? Or shall I challenge you together?"

    "Do you want to go first?"

    "Of course," huffed the swordsman. "I will not let the glory be yours alone."

    Normally Antilene would have had no problem letting him have it all, no matter the details or the outcome. But shattering a countryman''s aspirations would not have been the virtuous behavior of a good patriot.

    "Ahahah. I like the way you think, human." The Dragon''s Jaws did not laugh. What might have sounded like laughter was only the noise of the blades adorning his mouth screeching against each other. "I will be your opponent. And then it will be the elf''s turn." The ax lifted from the ground until it landed on his shoulders. "Come, let us begin. Let us leave the quibbling to those who are not bearers of harmony."

    It was Erya who opened the dances. Delfina, his sword, drew a curved line through the air, brushing against the Immortal''s weapon. The recoil was followed by a sharp sound, and the positions of the two contenders returned to their original state.

    "Tsk." Erya gritted his teeth. His legs moved before he had time to think, dodging an arc of the ax that nearly severed his head. "¡ºGreater Ability Boost]¡»." His body was irradiated with a soft light as both hands gripped the hilt and directed a simple stroke in drawing a diagonal into the exposed legs of the Dragon''s Jaws.

    The result was a success, at least in theory. Delfina managed to swipe at the Immortal''s scales, causing a small scratch. The enemy, however, had not stood still to be hit and with a single sweep of his tail had knocked Erya back once more, dropping him a few feet from Antilene and the three elves.

    "Eheh." Erya, getting back up, spotted a confident smile. "Now we begin." The sword of law began to glow, a mystical lunar blue, to the point that one could have said it was the star in the sky that bestowed the materials from which it was forged.

    "¡ºShukuchi Kai¡»."

    There was no more distance between the two contenders. From bottom to top Delfina traced a perpendicular trail, silvery dust proof of its path, until it collided with the reptilian''s ax. Erya''s movements became faster, and with them the pressure of his blows, the difference in physical strength seemed to begin to close.

    And the Dragon''s Jaws let out a scream, the force of which became the undisputed master of the room. Antilene likened it to a hushed whisper in her mind, but judging by the reaction of the elves, reduced to their knees, and the swordsman''s forehead, whose brow could not keep back the sweat stains, it would not have been wrong to consider it an effective move.

    Erya, in any case, made the motto of the valiant his own, and continued the assault. A second sweep was directed towards the Immortal''s flank; covered in flames, the sword wanted to prove that such a title was meaningless. Almost as a demonstration, the monster remained motionless as the fire touched his protection. Incandescent sparks erupted like a volcano awakened from a long rest, and the straight creature''s face contracted, for a moment that seemed eternal, into a grimace.

    Until the heat began to dissipate, Erya caressed what he believed to be his triumph. The arrival of the outcome of that first, painful contact was far too long in coming for what was to be a prelude to a new attack. Erya aimed for the neck, already holding his rival''s head.

    The sword, moving far too slowly for Antilene, did not complete its journey. With his free hand, the warrior of the Great Plains had jammed the blade between his fingers; as blood began to flow profusely from the wound, his huge face approached the swordsman of the Theocracy. The title of Immortal would be preserved.

    "If you think tricks like yours are enough," he shouted, totally unconcerned about any injury, "the harsh reality will be the source of an equally ruthless awakening!" The ax moved, and Erya was just in time to parry the cut with his non-dominant arm.

    Parry, to put it mildly. The man maintained his dignity for a single, dignified second. Then the screams of pain began. The stricken arm, by some miracle that did not lack a macabre sense of humor, dangled limply, barely still attached to the rest of the shoulder. It showed the bone, strangely remaining in part intact. Splinters of it combined with clots of blood gave little room for imagination to comprehend what Erya was going through at that moment.

    The rule was, however, that such a wound on the battlefield could not lead to distraction. A rule that was promptly ignored. By Erya, not the Dragon''s Jaws. With an uppercut, the latter struck the chin of the man whose suffering was still beginning.

    Erya''s head jumped, and for a moment it looked as if it had detached itself from the rest of the body, but the whole remained intact, whether it was luck or not was not for Antilene to determine. It hit the ceiling, and everyone had the impression that it would be stuck there for eternity. It did not, and the swordsman fell as only a dead body can fall.

    "Finished already?"

    The Immortal tightened his arms. His retinue began to call out his name, drumbeats raised by throats that had regained speech, lost until moments before. The Forest''s Horns was the only one to keep calm and remain wary, casting glances at Antilene.

    A spasm was suddenly heard. Erya, weakly, began to rise. Every smallest movement of his body was matched by deep, exhausted breathing. His face, proud and perfect, wore a mask of blood and scars. Disfigured, but not defeated, the swordsman drew a potion from his pocket, greedily drinking its contents with his arm still healthy.

    "Why... Why?" He muttered angrily. Delfina was lifted a few feet from his gaze, dirty and splintered, but not broken. It had not lost its luster, his sword, but a grim shadow seemed to have taken control of that once so shining blade. "Why... why aren''t you working?"

    If only the sword could have talked. What would have it said?

    "Trickery of the low order won''t save you, I thought I warned you. Death and destruction are the basis of harmony, but you''re just a coward who doesn''t notice the beauty of the end of everything. You rise a little from mediocrity, and exchange cowardice for valor, recklessness for wisdom." The words of the Dragon''s Jaws were as sharp as his fangs, and with their mockery they cut even deeper into Erya''s soul. "Human, yours is a race of cowards. Not because you are weak, there is no shame in weakness. But because you shy away from what you truly are: servants. There is glory in serving, but superbly you believe you are too much for such a humble condition."

    "That is enough," his companion stopped him. "Don''t waste your time proselytizing. The glory of Heaven is precluded to those who shun the truth. And there would be much to comment on, about the foolish beliefs of your people, dracotaur." There was a veiled contempt in that last statement. The Immortals were not as united as they wanted to pretend.

    Erya, however, had heard none of it. "You!" He shouted to his elves, who had taken refuge behind the throne. "You know what to do! Move!"

    The slaves, scared, did not let this be repeated a second time. Bathed in new light, Erya''s body began to heal, even his arm returned to a dignified state, the flesh regenerating little by little, trembling unsteadily from pain.

    It was unbelievable that his opponent had let him do this, but perhaps it was simply because the Dragon''s Jaws had lost all interest in what he perceived as a waste of his attention.

    "Second round.¡ºAbility Boost¡»,¡ºGreater Ability Boost¡»."

    Having returned to an acceptable condition, Erya began to fight again. This time, his was not a direct assault. He disappeared completely, leaving only a trail of dust as a memory. For a few seconds, many surely believed he had escaped. And as that belief became more convincing, the air trembled, and folded in upon itself. A slash of pure energy rushed at the reptilian creature, slashing at its armor, right in the area of its abdomen.

    ¡ºVoid Cutter¡», a perfect martial art for those who made distance the strategy of their offensive, but which could also prove ineffective the more one fled direct confrontation.

    Executed with a precision that would have made any veteran of five of the Six Scriptures envious. Superhuman, but only that. The limit, in the half-elf''s opinion, was clear.

    "You''ll need more than that, human." The blow had the same effect as a slightly more violent caress than usual. "In my kindness, I have let you avail yourself of every aid granted to you, but do not mistake my patience for pity."

    The dracotaur remained motionless, as more¡ºVoid Cutters¡»came down upon him, from every direction. A hissing roar continued to permeate the atmosphere, which became charged with ephemeral tension. Every attempt was as if predestined to be inexorably resolved into nothingness. The Immortal, fed up with that disordered waltz, moved for the first time. He was fast, much faster than Erya had ever been and more than he could ever hope to become.

    His gigantic size, and the limited amount of space, was no problem. The great hind legs leapt with the gracefulness of a swan over a lake, but when they landed it was not a gentle splash that rose from the ground, but an earthquake that shook the land. Erya was there, before the eyes of a bored predator, eyes large and ravenous, that could not have been sated by a simple offering. Delfina moved, fast, very fast, not fast enough.

    The ax, which appeared as gigantic as its bearer, cut the palm of his hands with a precise, surgical slash. The cascade of blood that followed was neither surprise nor dismay. The second blow that followed, as the luxury of reacting to the first had long since passed, ripped through the swordsman''s chest, by a sinister twist of fate, splitting into asymmetrical parts the very symbol of the Theocracy that Erya wore -somewhat playfully- on his cuirassed chest.

    A sweep of the tail threw the swordsman to the wall. Part of the wall collapsed, raising a cloud of dust. Antilene approached, coughing, believing him dead.

    "Help me¡­" What an effort it must have been to emit that line of voice! The stumps where his hands were crawled pathetically on the ground, while all Erya''s remaining energies were concentrated on a single, desperate plea. "Help me... Please help me¡­ I know you can¡­" One of his eyes had been completely mangled by debris, but the remaining one stared imploringly at her. Black and dark, devoid of any sparkle, the eyelid giving all remaining impetus not to close again, for conscious that if it did, it would be its last.

    The half-elf brought her face close to his. "I wish I could," she said, her voice a whisper. "But it is not for me to decide." She stood up again, drawing the attention of the three elves. "Hey, you!" The slave girls had curled up in a corner but had not shifted their attention from the fight for a single second. "Come here," Antilene ordered.

    "If you think we''re going to let you do whatever you want¡­" The Immortal tried to step closer; Antilene gave him a look devoid of any consideration. He stepped back, remaining silent; with him, all the soldiers present.

    "What shall we do, my lady?" It was the elf she had interacted with earlier who spoke. The mop of red hair descended on her head, covering most of her dirty face. "Shall we help our lord?"

    "That, it will be for you to decide," Antilene pronounced. Erya gasped something, too choked in his own blood to be clearly understood. "If you are merciful, there will be mercy. If you are merciless, there will be cruelty. Most of all it will be the strong -that is, at the moment, you- who will choose, in accordance with the beliefs of Erya Uzruth."

    It pained her heart to place the life of such a valiant warrior on such a slender thread, but it would have pained her even more to know that in the final moments, Erya''s path would be trodden and cast into the mud. The strong were the ones who decided the fate of the weak. A philosophy that Antilene could not fully share, but that she would not have disrespected.

    And since she was an outsider, it was not for her to decide. Erya would receive all that he had sown. If he was still under the protection of the Theocracy, he could have invoked the greater good of humanity in his defense, at which point the half-elf would have been forced to intervene.

    ''But as he has rejected Slaine''s beliefs, it is only right that his creeds should dictate his future.'' A reasoning that went perfectly smoothly. Rufus would have been proud of her fair verdict.

    "My lady," the elf looked at her incredulously. "You are surely joking. It is not for a slave to decide his master''s future. The punishment for such misdeed would be... too much to bear."

    "I find him despicable, so it wouldn''t be fair to put his destiny in my hands and the only jury available at the moment is you three. Hardly an impartial jury, but I don''t think there will be any complaints. If it is the consequences you fear, do not be afraid. You are under my protection, and I assure you that whatever the outcome, no harm will come to you and your companions. But if you remain silent," and she pointed her finger at Erya''s increasingly dying body, "it will be up to me to help him. And as his countrywoman, I will place him under my protection. Take this statement as you prefer."

    "Will there be no consequences?" The elf shifted the attention first from her then to Erya, in a continuous game of glances.

    "No¡­" The direct caller gave all he had left to express his opinion. "No... damn bitch... don''t¡­"

    "No consequences." Promised Antilene. "Now, choose."

    "My lady already knows what we choose." The elf responded, still unsure if to trust her. As expected, she dared not to fully trust the half-elf. But, when nothing less there is to lose, hope was more charming than every punishment that could be envisioned. "My lady knows what we fear, and my lady will act in accordance with our wishes. And hers."

    "So will it be then." Antilene decreed, watching Erya quickly lose consciousness.

    "No¡­ Don''t¡­ Damn whore¡­ Don''t¡­" And with these words, the last breath was emitted. The star never shone in the sky, having lost all its brilliance there, on earth.

    And what was meant to happen, happened. Erya died, drowned in his own blood and vomit, his body battered by the humiliation of a thousand wounds, with his slaves, all he had left, all he ever claimed, laughing at his sad fate.

    Not a tear was shed, nor a farewell greeting uttered. A stillness of mockery was all with which he left that world. A funeral in which neither glory nor honor were celebrated.

    "Okay," Antilene snapped her hands, the sound produced the only noise in the last few minutes to have defied the tomb-like silence. "We''re not done here yet, are we? Or do you want to save me the trouble and slit your own throats? Quick and painless, something I cannot guarantee. My sincerest apologies."

    The Dragon''s Jaws, as awakened from a sudden dream, pointed the great ax towards her. "It is deeds, not words that prove the warrior. I see a frightened maiden, hiding the stench of terror with lofty complaints." Yet, judging by the discomfort and insecurity of his exclamation, the one who was clearly not perfectly in control of himself was the Immortal.

    Dogs barked loudly to cover their smallness.

    "Let''s fight together. She... is different from her companion." The woven wooden scepter of the half-man-half-deer was enveloped in a greenish light. "I don''t want to hear complaints about death and the way of the warrior. There is only one Heaven, the sovereign we serve."

    The other wrinkled his nose, puffing out warm smoke. "You shall not have them. When you are ready."

    The two Immortals positioned themselves at opposite ends, leaving the remaining soldiers directly in front of the half-elf. Except for the end of the throne, where the three elves had found modest shelter once again, Antilene was surrounded on all sides.

    "Well, you have made the right choice." Antilene took a couple of steps. No one dared move. Charon''s Guidance was stowed in the endless pouch. "Let''s see, I want to try something different." Erya''s hands still remained in place, where they had been separated from the rest of their body. They clutched Delfina with tender devotion, as if they did not want to disappoint their original owner.

    Antilene pulled them indifferently away from the object of their loyalty. The hilt of the sword of law slipped through the fingers of the half-elf, who promptly closed her eyes, waiting for something she hoped would be forthcoming.

    Disappointment did arrive swiftly, but not unexpectedly.

    ''Nothing, uh. That my talents are not as useful as I always believed? Or perhaps it is limited only to the armaments of the Gods?''

    With these questions, she swung a couple of slashes. An unbeatable enemy as a target: air. No phenomena became apparent, no noteworthy event was the result of her actions.

    ''Is it just a piece of metal more conspicuous than usual?''

    Dozens and dozens of magic arrows rained down on her, still intent on experimenting with that new toy. Antilene shook off the annoying dust that had accumulated on the chain mail.

    ''Perhaps it needs to be used to show its effects?''

    Sharp thorns had emerged from the ground and jagged ominously around her. When she stepped on them, an amused tingling tickled her palms.

    ''Who to start with?''

    A burst of hellfire swept over her, consuming everything in a majestic blaze. Antilene thanked the gentle warmth offered to her to counteract the harsh chill of the evening. There was no gratitude, however, when she noticed that the Union jacket was creased and ruined.

    The Dragon''s Jaws had thrown itself at her like a fury. She had to admit that the blade of his weapon fitted perfectly between the space of her index and middle fingers of her left hand. Delfina''s point, on the other hand, did not acquire any particular grace as it was thrust into the Immortal''s arm, and the screams of pain and despair that followed were an unpleasant distraction from the calm that had until a short time before cheered that sweet evening.

    "Something is strange¡­" the half-elf reflected aloud. Indeed, after the moment when every one of her adversary''s broken nerves had performed a concert of pain -the execution, to tell the truth, had left much to be desired, but that was the inconvenience of having to share the stage with incompetents- the one who was neither dragon, nor lizard, nor man had miraculously recovered and used the long tail that closed that bizarre spectacle he called appearance to pull her back a few meters.

    Now the Dragon''s jaws glowed with overflowing energy, and he aimed at her hand again. The blade missed Antilene by a whisker, and thrust impetuously at her feet. To hope that this descent would stop her rival would have been far too optimistic; lifting part of the ground the ax acted as a catapult, the lizard''s tail a perfect counterweight, and hurled a boulder of pure, concentrated stone straight towards her chest.

    Antilene took the blow, realizing too late the mistake she had made. ''Now I understand. Is that how it works then?'' Fragments of dust and lime had lodged themselves in the rings of the chain mail. Delfina had regained that lunar complexion it had assumed during the clash with Erya, and the tiny shards of glittering dust falling from the sharpening mingled with the dirt that had accumulated on her chest. She must have looked absolutely ridiculous, looking like a walking rainbow.

    Antilene did not have time to curse her embarrassment, for the Forest''s Horns materialized behind her, his scepter covered in a long blue flame that had a piercing shape, similar to that of a fine sword. It struck her in the right shoulder, piercing her guard, but failing to make a dent in her skin, which dissipated the heat after a short time.

    Time for the half-elf to turn, he had already recoiled.

    "You have made a fatal mistake, little girl. I do not know what you have done, but I have never felt so full of energy!" The other Immortal continued to laugh, in the grip of unrelenting exhilaration. "¡ºCease and desist¡»."

    The dracotaur was in front of her again, never so imposing. Delfina and the great ax impacted, the adamantium screeching on the sword, forcing a stalemate. But if her hands were busy, the Dragon''s Jaws counted a natural advantage. Its tail tapered, charging like an unrivaled spear, striking the half-elf''s chest once more. Antilene was thrown, rolling to the ground.

    She could not get up, that a thunderbolt struck her. Electricity coursed through her entire body, digging out all her defenses. An unwanted yawn escaped from the side of her mouth.

    The sword of the law had borne her name. Maximilian had once explained to her the mechanisms of justice. Most of all, it was a fairness that was sought in trials; a fairness aimed at repairing a perceived unjust damage. A palliative, rather than an instrument of prevention, despite the noble intentions behind it claimed otherwise.

    The centaurs were upon her. The weapons they wielded had made them the elements of nature, and with ice, fire and wind they inflicted what they believed to be vengeance upon the body of the half-elf.

    Delfina had redressed the scales as far as it could.

    Antilene repelled the assailants with a simple gesture of her sword. Such was her skill, that many of them did not even realize they were dead, and continued to recklessly wave their weapons, finding only nothingness to greet them.

    On one of the plates, a whole mountain of gold coins had been placed; the value, priceless.

    The half-elf stood up listlessly. Her only motivation was the long sleep that would follow after all that too nosy ordeal.

    On the other of the plates, a handful of copper coins of little worth.

    The Immortals, incredulous, had no time to think of a counterattack. Antilene was already standing before the dracotaur, who stared at her full of rage. The arms gripping his great ax tightened. And so tight they remained, for the sword of the law had already reached out to stab them, letting the stream of blood flood down them.

    One of the gold coins from the pile of Antilene had passed to the copper pile. This was the judgment of the law. Fair as the law could be. No more, no less.

    The tail wagged again, aiming at the half-elf again. Antilene stopped it with a simple gesture of her fingers, bouncing her assailant like a child''s ball. The lizard''s face turned red with fury first, then with pain. The half-elf had placed her feet on the end that connected that additional limb to the rest of his body, and had begun to pull. The consequences were predictable, and the great tail, pride of the Immortal, was thrown away like vulgar rubbish.

    The Dragon''s Jaws stood up again, drenched with sweat, and began to strain; his whole face beginning to close in a vise. And behold, mystery of nature, the severed part began to regenerate, and a new tail, tangled with a disgusting liquid, took its place, as if nothing had happened.

    "Five hundred and thirty thousand," muttered Antilene. "A frost demon had a power that reached this number. What it meant exactly, I don''t know. But it was very big indeed, don''t you think? Yet a foolish snail-man tried to challenge him, though he did not even reach a tenth of this level. What do you think happened?" No answer followed her question.

    It was one of the favorite stories of the God of Wind, legend of the empyrean. Fragments of it were jealously guarded secrets of the Guardian Deity of the Theocracy, shared in passing with Antilene. Even the snail man, who had challenged the demon, could replace fallen limbs. The result had not changed, in the story and in reality.

    The wheel of fate was constantly turning, and he who called himself strong would one day have to call himself weak. A harsh lesson, not lacking in truth. It also had been the frost demon''s turn in that confusing story, and it would be hers too.

    Antilene dealt a hook to the Immortal, still panting from the effort of his regeneration, and made him collapse once more. She then repeated the gesture from just before, severing the tail from the giant body. Their leader''s spasms of pain, straining to reach lofty heights, were enough of a deterrent to prevent the other centaurs from intervening.

    The Forest''s Horns, the only fearless one, hurled a second thunderbolt, which struck full in the face of the half-elf. Antilene scratched her cheek, annoyed at that new sting.

    "Your turn will come too," she announced joyfully. "Do not be selfish, and let your companion enjoy what he has lived for so far." A second attack did not follow.

    The tails began to pile up. By the fifth snatch, the Dragon''s Jaws was on his knees, but with fiery fire still burning within him.

    A scream of rage, which would have chilled even the warmest blood, was his response to Antilene''s provocation.

    A last, desperate attack was unleashed with the ax, which glowed with cold light, the ice covering the blade and sharpening its edge. Antilene waited, with Delfina in her fist, for the blow to fall upon her. The Immortal was immense, the title of wingless dragon would never have been so fitting. In comparison, the half-elf with her petite size was even more comparable to a helpless infant.

    A cascade of hail, that was the blow that followed. A spectacle that, under other circumstances, would have left breathless at the magnificence of that snowy trail, which carried with it the beauty of an eternal winter. The shining gray of the blade was as resplendent as ever, courtesy of what was a polar aura acquiring concreteness. The great ax was shrouded in bands of red, green and blue colors, and could have continued that spectacle of hues forever had it been free to roam the sky.

    Instead, it collided with Delfina''s tip. A tip that had claimed as its own the cobalt blue of the full moon and the silver of the lady of the night. The sword, with a simple, lightning-fast flick of Antilene''s wrist, lashed out and stopped that marvel, retreating just a moment for the snow that fell on the half-elf''s nose, causing her to shudder a little, and first it ripped through that fluorescent ice, reducing it to a number of pieces comparable to those resulting from shattered glass, and then it collided with the adamantium of the sharpening. It collided with, or rather, sheared off what was a metal that had not, until now, known rust and decay. Shattered, reduced to the state of any vulgar old iron.

    The Dragon''s Jaws looked at what remained of his weapon and smiled. He continued to stand, proud, unwilling to accept that death might catch him unprepared. "Wonderful sword!" His voice boomed, devoid of regret. "And even more extraordinary is the warrior who wields it!"

    That reaction left Antilene stunned, who in turn took a few seconds to figure out how to proceed. She returned the unexpected smile, ready to finish that charade.

    "¡ºDarkness¡»."

    Everything went dark, and the half-elf could no longer see anything except for small, yellow eyes watching her. Then she felt something grab her and a disgusting sensation in her collarbone, as a slimy tongue caressed her. Long rows of teeth had bitten into her chain mail and worked their way into her skin.

    Dragon jaws. An apt name, for to such were comparable the sharp fangs that teased the half-elf''s flesh. What power, the names! Most of all, they were the most treacherous traitors.

    There was a crack, and Antilene''s skin, still pristine and unscratched, felt something hard slipping under her chain mail. What could be dangerous was also subject to fragility. A lesson imparted, but one that would not have the opportunity to be assimilated, unfortunately.

    Still raised in midair, the half-elf threw the sword she wielded, stabbing the chest, a few feet from the heart, of the one who had cast that spell. The Forest''s Horns let out a howl of pain, and the darkness he had conjured began to dissipate as his wailing subsided.

    Now, it was time to focus on the one who had trapped her.

    "Die forgotten, Immortal. Be thankful that your title was granted unto you before having met me."

    Antilene''s hands caressed his enemy''s scaly neck and began to run over the jugular. It was as if the fingertips had been dipped in watercolors of sweet hues and were tracing a precise pattern on the air itself, infusing the reflections of light with a single, beautiful image.

    Snap. The dracotaur''s neck was contorted, and he who was immortal no longer was. Much to her surprise, now that she could observe them better, those yellow holes running away from life did not ask her that classic question that was beginning to be obnoxious to her. They were satisfied eyes; eyes that were no longer searching for anything.

    Antilene descended gently to the ground, approaching the second of those fakes.

    He was still breathing, by some strange miracle, but it would not be long before he reached his companion.

    "Daeva... so Arsames had indeed been killed... Was it you in that case too?"

    "And even if I was?" Antilene drew her sword still sticking out, paying no attention to the delicacy. Fortunately, the deer man didn''t even have strength to shriek again.

    "Were you telling the truth... when you said our plan had failed?"

    "Who knows?"

    Antilene put an end to his suffering by piercing his heart with Delfina. Not even a groan was uttered. Placid calm accompanied that passing.

    When she turned around, the half-elf noticed that only she and the three elves remained in the room.

    "My lady," the one with the red hair, was the first to address her. "What shall we do with those who have escaped?" There was fear in her lowered gaze. Fear, but also something else. Admiration, perhaps? Certainly, something the half-elf was not used to.

    "Never mind, I''ve already taken care of them." She began to leave the throne room, heading outside.

    Another of the now former slaves, the one with dark hair, shyly addressed her. "My lady," she said, not without some embarrassment. "What will become of us now?" They had gathered up Erya''s still usable magical items and formed a small offering which they now handed to the half-elf.

    Antilene refused it with a wave of her hand.

    "Do what you want. Find another master to serve, or live free in the way that suits you the best."

    "My lady, may we pass into your service? We have nowhere else to go."

    Antilene sighed, aware of what would follow. "If you wish. What are your names?"

    "This humble girl''s name is Radish. Prika and Rucola are the ones of my companions of misfortune." The other two bowed their heads in unison.

    "Good, Radish. How about we start by heading outside? We''ll talk better when it''s all over."

    The redhead nodded, leading her companions outside with her.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When they were outside again, the city had woken up. From her elevated position, Antilene could see so many tiny ants moving through every neighborhood, every street, leaving nothing unexplored. Niles and his group had opened the city gates and Ris''s troops had swarmed inside the walls.

    The chaos that followed was as predictable as it was noisy. Citizens took refuge in their homes, believing that barring the gates was enough of a solution to completely alienate themselves from the outside world. The city guard found themselves divided between those who welcomed the invaders as old friends and saviors and those who had accepted their new masters and found it difficult to return to the old regime.

    Rampant confusion, messy orders and blood beginning to paint the streets. Of that there was plenty.

    "Ah, you''re here."

    Antilene was greeted by a familiar figure, completely covered in a lumpy scarlet red. Tiny drops of white were visible beneath that uniform, solidified layer. The survivors of the Immortal''s guard lay at its feet, looking still in disbelief at the fate they had failed to escape.

    "Are you done here too?"

    The figure lowered its head, remaining silent. Not that the gift of speech had been bestowed to it.

    "Look at your state. Perhaps I have overworked you." Antilene shook a strand of hair from its forehead, pregnant with still-fresh blood. Eyes that were her own stared at the half-elf impassively, emotionless. "Did my sister and Melina see you? Not that I don''t already know the answer."

    Einherjar shook its head.

    "Their best warriors were waiting for us, so you had to stoop to dealing with scraps. Well, there was no alternative." After all, the Spartiates would have attracted too much attention and would not have been as efficient. Yet Antilene found it wasteful to have had to use her friend for something so venial.

    "Of course," and turned to the three elves behind her, who were commenting enough with their faces. "You didn''t see anything, right?"

    "My lady, we have already been blessed with a generous new mistress this day." Radish replied with feigned confidence. "But two? We are not so foolish to believe in miracles. If we serve, we serve one. Only one, for such is the savior of the elves. And what the savior sees, we see. What the savior hears, we hear. What the savior commands, we execute."

    ''Perhaps it would be appropriate to kill them here and now,'' Antilene considered. ''But they are not lying. Hum, I will take some precautions later, and if it proves ineffective, I will get rid of them.''

    Her tender heart would be her undoing, but those three had suffered enough for the time being. Since there was no need to unravel that skein right now, she would leave the matter to the Antilene of the future, hoping she would show better judgment.

    "Now, what to do?" Antilene thought aloud. First she began descending towards the lower part of the walls, followed by the golem and her new subordinates, so as to get a clearer picture of the situation.

    "What do you say? Shall we throw ourselves into the fray too?" Antilene asked the Einherjar. No answer was expected, and no answer was given. "Hum, they don''t seem to be doing too badly."

    Ser Niles and his unit were the vanguard, and it had to be admitted that the minotaur led the charge commendably. Next to him, a swordsman who wore a beautiful helmet in the shape of a sea dragon, wreaked havoc on his enemies. Strangely, the soldiers followed his commands more eagerly than those of the minotaur. The few remaining centaurs broke their forces against them, being repulsed without the slightest opportunity to fight back. The main square of the city, the Square of the Dark Blade, became the main theater of the clash.

    Melina and Agravaine led the rear. The Dark Knight, in particular, was guardian of the citizens'' safety, directing the jumble of various species in an orderly manner.

    What remained of the Great Plains army, accumulating losses with every passing minute, attempted to attack an open flank, being thwarted by the firmly held pikes of Ris''s infantry. This, however, was not enough to completely prevent the agile and skittish centaurs from falling back and regrouping again, bombarding the increasingly dispersed formations of the small army with arrows and sorceries.

    Having chosen a wider terrain to conduct the battle had been a winning choice for the troops of the Great Plains, who, accustomed to wide spaces of maneuver, enjoyed a not inconsiderable advantage over the queen''s soldiers, consisting for the most part of much slower races.

    Antilene sat on one of the walls, enjoying the spectacle. By now the situation had stabilized, with a slight advantage fluctuating between the two sides. She would allow only one long minute to declare the winner, before taking the field herself.

    Her stomach grumbled, having barely eaten all evening. Rucola offered her a piece of cheese taken from Erya''s bag. In the end, the swordsman had managed to make himself useful.

    It was regrettable that no one could applaud his fundamental contribution.

    And then a blast of trumpets was heard, and from the west gate, opened by a handful of survivors, Beppo Allo''s army made its glorious entrance. Five thousand troops, most of them made up of goblins, hobgoblins and other races of similar affiliation, quickly covered the distance that separated them from the raging battle.

    The two armies came to a halt. One of the centaurs, his protection completely abandoned, ran towards the leader of the newcomer.

    Leading the new army was what one would have called a goblin of considerable size, distinguished from other specimens by its elongated nose and pronounced hand claws, reminiscent of the most ferocious bears. His body was entirely covered in splendid armor, the plates of which gleamed a bright, warm silver; a coat of arms in the shape of an iron club decorated his chest and, if one paid attention, also the blazons on the banners his knights carried. He rode a completely black horse, covered in steel of the same color, which made him look even bigger than he already was.

    He stopped near the centaur, and Antilene cursed that she was too far away to hear what they were saying to each other. What the half-elf saw, however, was the spiked mace that the too-big-goblin unsheathed and waved in the sky, followed by a war hymn.

    "Kill the invaders!"

    The half-elf realized it was time to intervene; but it was only when she had traveled a few meters that she understood how events had unfolded.

    The iron club had crushed the centaur''s head, smashing it into a shapeless mass of brains. Then, General Chazos had led his troops against those who had been his enemies from the beginning.

    To say it was a massacre would be an understatement. No one managed to escape, trapped in the grip of two armies. When she reached the square, Antilene had only to be careful not to step on the remnants of warriors and civilians -many civilians- who had been caught up in the fight.

    "My Queen," when she saw her, Agravaine ran towards the direction Antilene was heading towards. Her sister was stained with blood -not her own, in all likelihood- and breathing laboriously, but otherwise seemed to have no other issues. "Are you alright? The mission? Are the Immortals dead? There are no injuries, right?"

    She peppered her with questions, before noticing someone was missing. "Erya Uzruth? What happened to him?" The three elves shielded themselves behind the half-elf, while Einherjar had returned to Antilene long ago.

    "I''ll explain it to you later," Antilene dismissed that trifle with a simple shake of her head. "Though it''s easy to guess what happened. You, on the other hand, did everything go smoothly?"

    "Incredibly," her sister said. "Lady Melina was very surprised that so few sentries were there, but it didn''t take us long to open the eastern gates. We feared for a trap, but our worries were unwarranted. Once having been rallied with Sir Niles, we began the assault. Once again, we were amazed at how little resistance there was. Although... there was something strange."

    "What?"

    "Many more corpses than we had thought possible were lying in the streets before the battle even began."

    "That must have been your impression," Antilene smiled at her. "The frenzy of the fight can play tricks on you."

    Even if she was not convinced, Agravaine did not show it.

    "What about General Chazos?" The half-elf changed the subject, noticing that the overgrown goblin had taken his place next to Sir Niles in the center of the square. Next to them also stood the warrior who had flanked the minotaur in the charge, his sea dragon helmet immaculate unlike the rest of his armor, decorated with the flesh of the enemies. "Is he an ally? Or just a profiteer?"

    "According to Melina, he has been in cahoots with Queen Kirke from the beginning. It was all a charade to get their troops into the city. Of course, if the centaurs hadn''t found themselves in over their heads, with their command chain exterminated, they probably would never have opened the western gates."

    If she had not been there, Antilene wondered what might have occurred. Perhaps Chazos would have simply turned back home, or perhaps the Immortals would have forced him into a siege with no way out. It was almost as if the Queen of Ris had no great preference as to who came out the loser of that battle. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, and you will never lack subjects to sacrifice.

    Either way, nothing changed for the half elf. That had only been an appetizer, and of poor quality mostly. No sour, nor sweet. She prayed that the main courses would taste different, otherwise the old life as a recluse in the Theocracy would have started to seem not so bad.

    "What now?" Her curiosity was only turned towards the future. "What will be the fate of Karnasus?" It would have been amusing if the two factions had started tearing each other apart for control of what had been the coveted prize. Whatever the outcome, she hoped it would at least entertain her a little.

    Her sister lowered the head, mortified. "I have not been informed, my Queen. I can arrange that as soon as possible."

    "I don''t think there will be any need," Antilene reassured her.

    The warrior in the center of the square had taken off his sea dragon helmet, and the half-elf was finally able to recognise him. It was the same attendant who had served her briefly during the stay in Ris.

    "Brothers, it is good to be back here! In the same city I had forsaken not too long ago. In the same square where my best friend gave his life to protect me and the future of my people. I can touch the gentle breeze that caresses my face, and smell the most wonderful scent in the world! A nostalgic scent, full of memories, but also regrets. The scent of home!" His voice was the only thing audible in the midst of the religious silence. "This will be remembered as a holy day, a day of rebirth! Karnasus welcomes back its lost children! Karnasus embraces once again the men and children that died for it! Karnasus cast out the invaders that desecrated its sacred ground! The Argades family reclaim its throne!"

    And it was also the same man depicted in the portrait Antilene had found in the royal palace.

    Shouts of joy were raised to the sky.

    Prince Alexander had returned home, at last.

 Chapter 47: Everything you read is the truth

    Chapter 47

    Everything you read, is the truth

    What could this unworthy pence possibly transcribe, dealing with that magnanimous heart, that dear friend, that brilliant commander, that fearless explorer, proud statesman, incomparable swordsman, fiery lover, artist of renewed fame, wine connoisseur and master of beer, poet-warrior with a sensitive soul and a swift sword, our famous Prince Alexander Arrideo Hephaistion Argades?

    Allow me first to introduce our generous gentleman, for you who do not know him, or for you who have decided to forget him. A man endowed with great gifts, extraordinary physical and mental abilities, with a sharp mind and the fox''s readiness to act, but also with a sensitivity, a mercy that the gentlest of doves would have envied.

    As his companion, for years I was graced by his friendship, his undying love for anyone at his side; easy to laugh and even easier to compassion. I witnessed his charity and the beauty of his soul on so many occasions that so many books could be written, filling entire libraries. At the same time, an implacable man, and ruthless, ready to right every wrong, especially those who harassed his loved ones. And nothing was more precious, more dear, to Prince Alexander''s heart, than his subjects and their well-being.

    "I pity your future wife," I used to joke. "For she will have to share her husband with another woman, Lady Justice." And this made the prince always laugh, as if these words were not the honest truth.

    A man whose very history is rich in extraordinary events, just as mountains are rich in trees or rivers abundant in water. If I were ever to be offered the honor of writing the biography of such a radiant existence, so out of the ordinary, I would find myself compelled to decline because of the impossibility of it, for to transcribe, even slavishly and without frills, a year of his life, ten would be required of my humble skill.

    The first time I met him, he was just a young up-and-comer, disentangling himself between the minutiae of court and the sweat of training camps. Just a child at the time. Yet a child endowed with that greatness born one, perhaps two generations.

    After the fall of his beloved city, he wandered in exile in the dear and sweet lands of the Union. Of all he had lost, nothing brought him more regret than having forsaken his greatest friend and the love of his subjects.

    "Regrets," he used to tell me, "I have many. Too many to count. I lost what I loved, what defined who I am. Prince Landless, they will have to call me from now on." And, I dare not joke about this, there was a fire, a fervor, in his eyes that I could never explain, no matter how hard I try.

    There was no trace of weakness in him, physical or mental, more because such concepts were unknown to him, rather than simple arrogance.

    According to the testimony of numerous members of the fair sex who -some beautiful creatures!- had the good fortune and honor to share his bed, a more delicate, and at the same time ardent, lover could not have been found for the whole circle of the world. Tales of chivalry and sweet passion, each one special in its own way, that passed for every race and maiden, from the old woman who regretted her youth, to the sweet fruit that had just reached maturity, from the noblewoman betrothed to a brute of little worth, to the peasant girl who dreamed of eternal love.

    He drank infrequently, and only in the strictest moderation, for many and many times he had seen what danger lay behind a bottle. "For a soldier and a leader, there is no devil more dangerous than that which lurks in the reddest vine," he always repeated.

    Having tried -alas, with not the brightest of results- to paint such an extraordinary picture, let me give you the account of what happened -what really happened- during the taking of Karnasus.

    As you readers may know, the city at the center of the Union had fallen after a long siege by the forces of the Equestrian King. The valor, courage, recklessness, and daring of our beloved prince had had to contend with the ferocity, ruthlessness, and cruelty of the centaurs of the Great Plains. He fought relentlessly, Prince Alexander, yet he had to force himself out of the city, like the vulgarrest of thieves, fleeing from court to court of the Union, finding refuge first on one side, and then on the other. Running and hiding, enemies were everywhere, even in the most unexpected places.

    But this constant pilgrimage was the key to his redemption. In short, many were the valiant soldiers -who it would now be more opportune to call heroes- who gathered under his banner, drawn by the strength of his personality, inspired by the fierceness of his ideals.

    Clashes and divisions were only a distant memory, and under his guide some of the most brilliant, most dazzling swords and minds of our entire beautiful and magnificent homeland rallied. This company that I can only call golden -although even gold appeared as the most vulgar of metals in comparison with such splendor- gathered together individuals born under different skies, writing other idioms, professing different religions, children of the lands touching the northern sea, and the southern mountains. Yet never in the history of the Union was such a relationship of brotherhood, such loyalty and allegiance to one another, forged.

    Their spoils were the glory they shared with their leader, and their reward the sweet and sincere affection they felt toward him.

    When the time came for the attack, I still remember the speech the prince made to his attendants, of whom I was fortunate enough to be present.

    "Friends," he said. And his was a voice broken with emotion and full of hope. "Today I have returned here, where it all began. In my travels, I have known the beauty of the Union, its light, and its darkness. I have learnt to love it, more than I did in the past. I have come to know it, and for that I am grateful. My exile, as you know, has been a source of endless worries and sorrows, but even in adversity, I have known the warmth of trusted comrades. Having to fight my homeland is, as you can imagine, a sword hanging over my head. Whatever my choice, whatever the outcome, I will come out defeated."

    "Enemies are in their thousands," Sir Niles, champion of the arena and lord of the battlefield, had pointed out. Among the many, many, valiant who had gathered, he stood out for selflessness and courage. "What will be our priority?"

    "The civilians," the prince had replied. "The civilians, my people. Let no harm come to them. Let no blood flow, in those streets, where once there was only hope and happiness. Spare anyone who should put down his swords, friend or foe. Let peace be our goal, and let war always remind us who we want to be, not who we are."

    "Your Majesty," a young swordsman, Erya Uzruth, had run into the tent where we had set up camp, sweating and fatigued. "The centaurs have taken hostages, which they now display on the walls. One of them has been thrown into the void, and if we do not show ourselves soon, they warn that they will start throwing others, increasing in number."

    Erya was a valiant hero, from a distant land, who had found in the cause of the prince a noble reason, after long wandering, to put his sword to service. Collector of legends, rescuer of helpless maidens, protector of the innocent and enforcer of justice, he was but one among many notable pedigrees who had labored to join Prince Alexander''s cause. Since this is not the place, I shall avoid mentioning the exploits that had seen this young man as a protagonist, limiting myself to writing that he had the heart of a noble and delicate spirit, and at the same time the ardor and compassion of a true warrior.

    "Mercy!" Exclaimed Prince Alexander on hearing this havoc. "I must go down there myself, damn them!" The splendid blue hair trembled with honest indignation as the prince''s bright gaze turned its dangerous fire towards the lost homeland. "And negotiate the release of the hostages, as soon as possible. If a single innocent man, woman or child is harmed..." And, dear friends, I must testify that at the mere thought of a wounded child, our beloved sovereign wiped away a manly tear that had begun to furrow his cheek. Therein lay his greatness, in not lowering himself to give weight to what others would think of him. "... My delicate conscience could not bear the weight of such a misdeed. I will admonish these centaurs in no uncertain terms..."

    And here, I am forced to admit, in my vileness I could not wait for the ax of his vengeance to fall upon his enemies, unaware of what the consequences might be.

    "No," fortunately for us, other men, far better than myself, flanked our beloved prince. Erya Uzruth, for example. "Your anxiousness to avoid bloodshed does you much credit, my prince, but one cannot hope that the centaurs will have the foresight to come to terms with the enemy. I understand you, I understand you well. I, too, tremble when I hear that an innocent is in danger, and I feel the blood boil for such cowardice. But to believe that such savages are comparable to you in honor and respect for the adversary is foolish. Indeed, you are endowed with a company that boasts many members distinguished for boldness and uprightness, all anxious to execute your orders, and each of whom, I defy anyone to doubt, would willingly sacrifice his life at your command." And here, he who was from another nation bowed his head, the only sign of respect he knew. A universal sign. "Like me, for example."

    But Erya was not the only one who proposed himself for that task that would be remembered in the annals. Following that exhaustive speech, volunteers immediately stepped forward to offer their vigorous arms to that noble project.

    Alexander was forced to chase away a second manly tear, such was the emotion that that self-sacrifice caused him, and after looking into the eyes of all of them, he performed a cry full of affection: "My men! My brave men!" Then he pressed his strong hands to his noble chest in gratitude to them, and to the Gods, to the Mother Law, for bestowing upon him soldiers of such caliber.

    His choice finally fell on Erya himself. "Offer our enemies honest treatment if they give up their cowardly kidnapping and decide to face us head-on," Alexander said. "And admonish them that they will relish the full extent of my wrath should they twist just the hair of their hostages," he finally sentenced. "Do this for me, Erya Uzruth, and you will be properly rewarded."

    "Sir, your respect and affection is all I could ever desire," the swordsman replied, and the two embraced, shedding more manly tears. "Just one thing," Erya added, after they had laboriously pulled apart, "if anything should happen to me, take care of my companions. The knowledge that they are not safe is the only worry I could take to the afterlife."

    In fact, Erya had three graceful maidens accompanying him. Three elves, of great genius and family, whose beauty was impossible to describe, and whose courage and valor would have made even the hardest of hearts gush.

    Erya loved his companions with the kindness of a father and the self-sacrifice of a brother, and the elves, in return, loved Erya. A perfect testimony to the foundations of brotherhood that underpin our wonderful nation!

    When the swordsman went to negotiate, concern began to hover in the air. Everyone waited for the outcome of the negotiations, hoping for a happy outcome, preparing for the bloody alternative.

    With what tension the time passed! The morning wind was still whispering through the trees and grass, the indifferent birds were still trilling their songs from the branches, but every warrior and enchanter gathered there certainly stood at the edge of anxiety and nervousness.

    Every one of them, with the exception of one!

    "Ah, the moment before jumping into battle!" Affirmed the prince, kneeling in the tall grass above the city, as the fiercest of predators had sharpened his fangs and unsheathed his claws, and what claws! "The delightful calm before launching into a scarlet work such as ours, great is the emotion I feel! I know, I know, it is not noble to acclaim blood, it is not honorable to kiss the lips of lady death. But when a beautiful woman seduces him, what can man do but yield to flattery? Is it not so for you too, dear friend?"

    And here, I had to admit my extraneousness to such a whirlwind of excitement. But here also lay the difference between a pathetic and insignificant man like me, and an experienced captain of arms like Prince Alexander. When fear presented itself in his presence, our beloved ruler, all he could do was laugh loudly and say: "Try again next time, maybe when I am old I will listen to your pleas!"

    But no enjoyment escaped from his mouth this time. "Get ready," he murmured in front of me and all the others who had gathered around him. He sprang, and I thought I saw thunder come to life, and he charged the army, shouting impetuously: "To arms! To arms!"

    In a beat, his charge was joined by dozens and dozens of shouts that flooded the picturesque valley that separated them from the city of Karnasus. I stood at the prince''s side, riding a thoroughbred horse. I confess, and I am ashamed of it, I began to fear for my safety. Apprehension grew within me, and the idea that this time might be the last time I would bring my chronicles to the attention of my dear readers was tearing me apart.

    It was not for my safety that I was pining, it was only the possibility of leaving so many more adventures, so many exploits of Prince Alexander in oblivion that left me horrified.

    When we arrived below the walls, a macabre scene greeted us. Erya''s body lay mangled on the ground, surrounded by enemies. The swordsman had managed to cleave one of the dreaded Immortals, honor guards of the Equestrian King, and was about to claim the life of the second champion defending the city as well. But Sir Erya had made a mistake, a huge mistake. Not falling for the trap, no. He acted thinking that his adversary was endowed with that same sense of chivalry, that respect for the enemy that made that great tragedy we call war bearable.

    He sinned in stupidity, that he did. He was stupid in having faith in concepts that were now lost, that would never again appear on the battlefield. Except on the rarest of occasions, of which there are very few lucky ones -of which I can boast to be one- who can witness it.

    The prince''s shout at the scene was mighty, and my first impression was that heaven itself was divided, outraged at that cowardice. The trumpets sounded, and the fury of the people in revolt was also heard, rising from within the walls in a cry of protest and freedom, having recognised their rightful king.

    The gates were opened, thanks to the help of these brave rebels - whose valor will never be forgotten - led by nobles who had not submitted to the domination of foreigners, and the prince''s troops joined those of General Chazos, who had come from Beppo Allo to provide support.

    In short, the clash spread throughout the city. I do not want to bore you further with soporific, off-the-cuff descriptions. There were countless casualties, we all know that. To redeem freedom, there was a price to pay, as always.

    I can only say that without Prince Alexander to put himself on the front lines and risk the same safety for all of us -and I challenge anyone to question this- perhaps things would have turned out differently.

    In the end, thanks to the joint effort of our prince and Sir Niles, helped by the three elves who yearned to avenge their companion, even the last Immortal fell, after a long and painful battle. The survivors of the Great Plains were hunted down, and only a few of them managed to escape. Karnasus was free once again.

    Now, citizens, your time has come. Squeeze together, think about what you hold dear, regret what you have lost, and prepare yourselves. Prepare yourselves because there will be many mourners to come. Prepare yourselves, for there will still be much to fight for.

    Luckily, you will not have to do it alone.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Karnasus

    The bodies were piled up in the cemetery area. High stacks of fire had been raised, and a copious trail of smoke rose from them. A priest was repeating a litany of unfamiliar sounds, while the crowd was divided between those who watched in silence, and those who joined in with the chorus.

    Antilene watched the flames crackle, without giving them much consideration. There was a constant coming and going in the streets, and every individual was in an agitated state, searching for what to do, whispering about expectations and regrets.

    "Do you think we should have Radish and the others read this... I don''t even know what to call it." Agravaine continued to wave the flier that had so readily described the events of only a couple of days before.

    The elf had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and the black and white eyes glued to the text.

    "Where are they now?" Antilene asked.

    "In your rooms. They are resting."

    Prince Alexander had been very generous, in granting them one of the royal flats. One could almost have implied that he did not want to let them out of his sight. That one would have probably been right.

    "I see," The half-elf brought a hand to her face, to cover herself from the smoke that was flooding her. "Do nothing for now. They might find it themselves, or they might not. In fact, you know what? I couldn''t care less."

    Erya was dead. That was the only thing that should have mattered to them. The three elves might have found that pile of nonsense as amusing as she had. Or they could have exposed their grievances to the prince, Beppo Allo''s army and the band of demi-humans led by that minotaur.

    "Doesn''t all this irritate you even a little? I know you''d like to keep your presence here a secret... but reading this nonsense someone could think Erya was the hero, not you. Without you... they''d all be dead now."

    Antilene shrugged her shoulders, starting to walk down the inner streets. She had seen enough fire for one day.

    "I didn''t come to this place to start a fan club. If the Union wants to create a spotless and fearless paladin to unite the people, let them do so. In fact, this is akin to my goals. They will have fewer grievances when I claim my reward."

    If there was anything to claim. But either the royal treasury had been completely looted by the Immortals, or her talent was starting to fail.

    Antilene had gone through every smallest artifact she could get her hands on, achieving nothing as a result of her hard work. Karnasus had proved to be treasure-poor, as had the Union. The half-elf had even asked Melina if she could wield the cursed sword, finding herself returning it seconds later, completely disappointed.

    "And what would your goals be?" Agravaine followed her like a shadow. It was beginning to be irritating. "You''re not going to tell me you want to free every single elf slave left in the vicinity?"

    "That is a purpose I will gladly leave to you," Antilene said. Far too many people in her retinue were beginning to accumulate for her liking. "The goals that move me are the same as always. Curiosity, nothing more. Maybe I''m just a bored little girl, looking for something to arouse her interest. Finding the pieces of my story and putting the bigger picture together would be a good start."

    Decem''s treasure had given her a first clue. Her grandfather had been a fencer. But the rest ended there.

    As they walked, a pastry shop caught their attention. The sign on display solemnly heralded a pharaonic discount for the restaurant''s six specialities. Antilene decided to stop and eat, undecided between the cr¨ºpe of darkness, or the brioche of flame. In the end, the choice fell on the former. Only when the first overflowing bite of chocolate entered her mouth did the half-elf realize how much she had missed the taste of the sweet tickling her palate.

    "What shall we do now?" Agravaine looked around, searching for danger. All she found were passers-by exchanging looks of suspicion, and rubble being rebuilt. "Will you continue with this war?"

    Antilene took another bite. The muzzle was now brown from the chocolate. The hard price to pay for such sweetness was the ease with which one could get dirty.

    "I have faced two of the Immortals, bringing the casualty count to three," she replied, wiping herself with a handkerchief the shop owner had kindly offered her. "In all, there should be five more left. Plus the Equestrian King, who is supposed to be the most dangerous of all."

    "If you were to leave the conflict now, how do you think things would go for the Union?"

    "They would probably go back to square one. The Minotaur, Niles, I think is the only one who can take on one of the Immortals in a direct confrontation. That''s assuming their abilities are more or less on the same league," and she was indisputable proof that members of a special unit didn''t always travel on the same level. "Maybe even Melina, with the right support. But now they''ll be more guarded, and the chances of finding them alone will be slim."

    "And the Queen of Ris ? That woman is not as helpless as she pretends to appear."

    No, she wasn''t at all. Antilene looked forward to meeting her again, to ask many questions that had begun to pile up since the infiltration.

    The Theocracy always repaid its debts. And Antilene was a golden scion of that custom.

    "Did you realize that yourself? Well, only an idiot couldn''t. I think her abilities are on par with Baharut''s imperial mage, probably inferior." And, surprise aside, she had been very generous with her estimation. The half-elf had only had the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Fluder Paradyne in passing, during her stay in Jircniv''s care, but the court mage''s skills were well known to the Theocracy. "In any case, nothing to worry about, for me at least. You perhaps should be careful. I''d hate to have to kill you."

    Agravaine did not react much to those words. "Should I become a danger, do not hesitate. But I don''t think it is the queen''s intention to become your enemy. So far I think she has merely observed you, to understand your intentions."

    "I have no doubt." Various people, of various races, were strolling amiably down the street. They were whispering, and what they were saying could not be heard. "But I want you to pay attention. The Union may also prove to be our enemy. Spies could be on every side, listening to our every move. The only thing certain is that blood will be flowing, very soon."

    Not an unlikely prediction. Blood was always flowing.

    The half-elf approached the counter again, to treat herself to another cr¨ºpe, this time with white chocolate. She had skipped breakfast, and felt capable of devouring an entire army.

    "You''re not having anything else?"

    Agravaine shook her head.

    The owner, a man in his forties with a thick silver beard, handed her another round of sweets, round-shaped treats with a hole in the middle.

    "Freebies on the house," he explained. "Sweetened doughnuts, with blueberry jam. For the sweet elf." Then he handed her another napkin to wipe herself with.

    Antilene looked at it, then back at her sister. "It might take me a while to finish," she told her. "Why don''t you go back to the palace? You''ll check how our guests are doing, and you can also contact Etienne and Melody to inquire about the situation in Ris."

    Agravaine had taken a liking to the three ex-slaves, and was already planning what assignments might suit them best. A task that Antilene was more than happy to leave in her care.

    "Don''t you have your meeting with the prince soon? Can I leave you alone?" After long days of waiting, Prince Alexander was finally ready to receive his pointy-eared guests.

    "I will be careful not to burst into tears as soon as I see him." A giggle escaped her sister. "If I had sunglasses I could shield myself from his dazzling charisma, but unfortunately I will be forced to run the risk of being blinded."

    Or perhaps a helmet of pure steel would have been more suitable. Looking at the sun with naked eyes, the risk of getting burnt was to be taken into consideration. At the same time, being reckless had its uses.

    "I would be very careful," Agravaine warned her, the face comically serious. "There is a real possibility that you will turn into a helpless maiden, captivated by his charms. The elves of Evasha are not yet ready to accept a human as king consort. You could cause a second civil war, just because you couldn''t keep your gaze in place!"

    She pointed a finger in front of her, waving it in false disappointment.

    "If that happens, I will be prepared to accept exile," Antilene reassured her, looking at her scornfully. "It would never be my intention to leave my subjects in disappointment. I will accept my responsibilities with supreme joy. A white horse, and an immaculate carriage, just like in fairy tales for little girls."

    "Ah, to be young again. My heart could benefit from strong emotions once more."

    "I don''t think there''s that much of an age difference between us," but that was a topic neither of them wanted to broach. To open the door to happiness, ignorance could sometimes be the perfect key. "Anyway, now go, let''s not waste any more time with this nonsense."

    Agravaine addressed her with a delicate bow, before taking her leave. Antilene watched the elf walk away, as she lost herself in the alleys and the crowd.

    The half-elf continued to eat, cheering herself with the gentle breeze that was beginning to blow. It did not take her long to finish it all. She threw the rubbish into a nearby bin, and then approached the shop owner once more.

    Only the two of them were present. No one else approached.

    "A glass of water. Clear water, if you please."

    The man smiled at her, and ran quickly to the back, returning soon after with what was requested.

    "Beautiful day, isn''t it? Since the prince returned, this feels like a different world. People are happier, and set to work with more desire. Much optimism, in the streets. Much hope for the future."

    "Oh yeah?" Antilene swirled the glass between her fingers, sipping slowly. "Would you say the population is happy with the change? Or should we say the return to the past? There were many deaths during the taking of the city."

    The man looked at her with deep violet eyes, his lips parted in a sly smile. "Deaths are unfortunately inevitable, my lady. If there is discontent, well, our beloved prince would know how to handle it. He is the rightful heir to the throne of Karnasus, and the people are not ungrateful for the years of good governance that preceded his exile. Although..."

    "Although...?" Antilene urged him to continue.

    "My lady, I am fearful of the Gods. It is not my intention to share hovel talk with a graceful maiden such as you are."

    Antilene ignored the graceful maiden''s part. "How long have you been here, valiant confectioner? I am but a wayfarer, who has hastened to pass this way to see the fruits of liberation sprout. I am ignorant, as far as the common feeling of the inhabitants of this city is concerned." What she had said was not entirely true. But wasn''t entirely untrue either. And they both knew it did not matter.

    The owner arranged more of his produce on a tray that he placed on the counter, in plain sight. Their strong scent mingled with the burnt one that still hovered in the half-elf''s nostrils. "Not much, I must admit. A couple of years, maybe a bit more. And in that time, there have been many occasions when I have returned to my homeland. A truly enchanting place. The taste of home is unlike any other, as sad as it sometimes is to admit."

    "I''m sure it is," Antilene''s stomach, at any rate, was currently full. However, of trying new flavors she could not say she was completely satiated. Not yet, at least. "But knowing that there is a place waiting for us makes the distance sweeter. A feeling I think we share."

    The man looked up, to see her gaze fixed in his. "Aye, that''s right." Then he looked away, unable to hold it. "Karnasus is a city of great history and strong traditions. Its citizens do not forget, nor do they forgive. And this belief of theirs, according to the idea I have, is well represented by the one who governs them." He approached her, so that no one else would hear them. The street was deserted, but even the walls knew how to grow ears, at the occurrence. "And it is said that many are those who still hold old grudges against the prince for abandoning them. The family is a sacred thing, very. It would surely be divine will if that sacredness was respected, always."

    ''That is not always the case,'' thought the half-elf. ''It is not always the case.''

    "I thought the nobles sided with the rebels. Many stories of the prowess of the survivors of the royal family can be heard, and how they rushed to the rescue of their breadwinner. Am I to believe that what I read was a malicious lie?"

    Stories that, to the best of Antilene''s recollection, certainly did not correspond to reality. Certainly troops had been sent in support of Niles and his people, and certainly theirs had been welcome help. But the half-elf found it hard to believe that their contribution to the cause had been so unparalleled and so crucial. Indeed, the duties of the nobles still teemed with guards, almost as if losses had been kept to a minimum

    ''Just coincidences. Not everyone can be a warrior comparable to you.'' Using herself as a yardstick was a bad habit that Antilene struggled to eradicate. Standard. She had to find more realistic standards.

    "It was a confusing night of deliverance. Many rumors are already starting to spread. Some, bitter malicious tongues who have never tasted my masterpieces, even claim there was no clash. And that the battle was already won the moment our prince entered, breaking through the gates."

    "And how would that explain all the dead that now burn?" Antilene asked.

    Few things lied. Fire was not among them. "I''m surprised they didn''t put your ovens to community service as well, so much work to be done. And the guards? How could anyone have gotten rid of all those guards by themselves?" She shrugged her shoulders, unable to contemplate such nonsense. "Madness. Pure madness even to imagine it."

    The confectioner raised his hands, as if he wanted her to believe he knew nothing about anything "I''m just saying what I''ve heard around, for a generous and charming customer. I make sweets, I don''t cook truths. Nor lies, to be clear."

    Antilene slid a golden coin into his pocket, to loosen his tongue. "Forgive a naive and ignorant woman who is too intrigued by silly gossip. Why don''t you bake me one of your best pies, so that I may give it as a gift to the one who awaits me?" So quickly it passed, so quickly the man''s mouth opened. As street artists, perhaps there was a future for the agents of the Theocracy.

    "For you, my lady, I have one of the finest creations of these humble hands." He showed her a beautiful white cake, with just a few hints of bright red. A craftship of light indeed. "The vanilla and cream are so sugary and fluffy that you can mistake what melts in your mouth for pieces of cloud. The strawberries are so juicy that they will move even the most inflexible of men to tears." Within seconds, the confectioner had already finished wrapping the chosen one.

    Antilene accepted the parcel satisfied. "It will be a gift that will make whoever receives it happy, I feel. With this it will be very easy to be loved. Perhaps we should give up swords, and make war with sweets. It would certainly be more enjoyable for everyone."

    Blood replaced by custard and juicy fruit salads. A cheesy prospect, perhaps, but also a very pleasant one.

    "You are very wise, my lady," replied the confectioner. He had a silly smile on his face, and his eyes fixed on the outside of the shop "To be loved, it is difficult these days. We can''t all be like Sir Niles and his people."

    "What do you mean?"

    "The population loves its heroes. The people of the Union are united in sport, although lately it is difficult to remember that. Fortunately for us, Niles and his comrades have brought back memories of those who were the favorites of our lands."

    It made sense. Having rounded up that band of stragglers now revealed new depths of truth. Antilene found herself surprised, realizing how little she had understood about everything from the beginning.

    "Should you return to your homeland," she told the man, before leaving, "place a flower on the grave of a loved one. Surely there will be some. Chrysanthemums, in particular, are auspicious where I come from. I cannot now..." She sighed, leaving a trail of perfume behind her. "But I will be able to before long."

    She did not wait for an answer, even though it was known to her. Already she was far away.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When she appeared at the doors of the throne room, Antilene found a bat-like demi-human scrutinizing her from head to toe.

    The half-elf had left the cake in her sister''s hands, not without some amused comment on her bottomless stomach, and had then headed swiftly for the place where she was expected.

    She waited in silence, those few seconds of stillness spent exchanging glances with that sentinel. Antilene thought she had seen him following Niles, but could not be entirely certain. Non-humans had the bad habit of all looking alike, making identification more difficult than was normally expected.

    Finally, the man-bat made a sound that sounded like a giggle, and the door opened. Whether he was ignorant of the common tongue, or had not even tried to communicate with her, the half-elf could not know.

    ''Perhaps I could try to make him talk,'' a not entirely pleasant consideration, now that she reflected about it. ''Or maybe I could make him sing, with the right help. The little star in the sky, the nursery rhyme you teach children to learn to talk.'' Now that was a more enticing prospect. As a teacher, Antilene knew she wasn''t very qualified. That''s why she needed practice. Lots of practice.

    When she entered, the throne room was not so different from how she remembered it. The masks continued to stare at her from the walls to which they were attached, giving the strange impression that the room was more populated than it actually was. They watched the half-elf, never changing expression, never turning their fixed gaze away from her figure.

    The fixtures had been repaired, and the blood cleaned up as well. How many could have guessed that not even a week had passed since an execution had been carried out in that very place?

    "Lady Fouche, it is with great pleasure that I welcome you into my presence!" There was only one difference, not a very unpleasant one at that. The one who sat on the wooden throne was no longer Erya. "Be welcome, to my humble abode." He was alone, except for a small man scribbling on a pad of paper.

    Was he a dwarf? Or a gnome? Actually, he would have called himself a human. Just like Antilene was. His short stature, just a whim of the Gods.

    Prince Alexander gave her a smile, and a graceful bow after rising from the throne. He even made to kiss her hand, but Antilene pulled it away gracefully, leaving him groggy for a few seconds.

    "No need for unitile formalities such as these," the half-elf explained. "Tell me rather how you are faring, now that you have returned home."

    The hair that so much could have been mistaken for seaweed moved, as if a wave had disturbed their stillness. "Now that I stand before you, I have never felt better." The prince''s tanned skin had that smell of salt and sea that deeply annoyed Antilene. Where it came from, it was hard to say. Karnasus was certainly not near the waters, nor was Ris. "Yet, I implore that you will forgive me for the rudeness, even this does not compare to the ecstasy that grips me as I once again caress my royal chair. In greeting my beloved subjects, in exchanging laughter with those who always bring a smile to my face, my soul lights up immensely."

    The man who was not a dwarf nor a gnome, who was challenging the prince''s shadow to determine who could be more attached to his backside, began to write louder to these last words of his, smearing his already filthy hands even more with ink.

    "Lovely," Antilene commented, trying to appear as dignified as possible. There was something about the prince that irritated her deeply, as unfair as it was to base such a harsh opinion on such a limited amount of time and knowledge. Lies stank far too much for her nose. "Certain I am, however, that you did not summon me merely to extol the praises of your beloved homeland. It is a game I am capable of playing myself, and one I would not be very inclined to lose."

    The prince retired to his throne. Long had been the separation from it, and it made sense that he should now find himself reclaiming what he had lost. "I am sure the stories about the forest of Evasha that you have to tell me are many and interesting," he said, making his scribe approach his side again. "But it is not to exchange pleasantries that I requested your radiant presence; you are right about that." He cracked a sneer at her, with plump, red lips that must have been meant to charm Antilene, but that only reminded her of a piglet. "No, I trust by now you have been able to read the flyers we had distributed. Producing so many, in such a short span, and with so few means, was a feat that should be handed down to future generations, I assure you."

    ''The Great Paper Distributors. Next to the Thirteen Heroes and the Mystic Dragon Knight certainly has an impact, although I would be willing to bet that''s not what the prince expects.''

    Antilene disagreed with those remarks, perhaps too stupid for a gathering of heroes as that was.

    "Minstrels will be singing this venture for years to come," she said instead. "Should I ever have children, I wouldn''t need to look further for the right bedtime story."

    The prince snuggled into his doublet, a deep blue with silver stripes that made him look even more ''sea-like'', should that be possible. "In a mockery contest, I admit I would be crowned the jester of the day. But the important thing is not what you think of yourself, but what others think of you. Did you note it down?"

    The little man wrote quickly, mumbling something between his teeth. He certainly had a certain sense of the dramatic, like his liege.

    "It is not the case that his grace should cause too much trouble of this kind. From what I can see, the population has accepted your arrival and is quite happy to be back to normality." The trails of smoke were still before her eyes, but the half-elf made no mention of them. "Is this not what your grace desired? To have your own immortal exploits imprinted on the simple minds of your subjects, so that they would decant its praises into their imaginations."

    Alexander shook his head, not without first giving her a jaunty smile. Was he the valiant lord of a city, or a ragged mercenary who had risen to power? The clothes he wore made it easy to tell the difference, but would he be the same under that dainty velvet?

    "I take it you have also been impressed by such terribly fascinating and surprising chronicles," the little man let out a sour chuckle, which was promptly silenced by a simple glance from the prince. "I believe that one day whole volumes of writings like this will fill entire libraries," he continued, undaunted, "so it was my intention to ask your grace what her opinion was on the matter. Especially about certain ''alterations'' we have made to the course of events. Modifications that have not changed the big picture of the truth."

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ''In short, he wants to know what I think about being completely left out of events, and having Erya as the bearer, in part, of what I have accomplished.'' Maintaining secrecy was certainly one reason why Antilene would accept that implied agreement without too much trouble. On the other hand, she did not know how to regard the almost sacred elevation that had been performed towards the now dead swordsman. ''I could protest, and make this peacock with few feathers swallow his sequins. But to what end? I would get nothing out of it but a good laugh. And half the Union as an enemy.''

    "If it pleases your grace so, I have no objection. The only thing I require is proper treatment for my retinue, and a preview of the new masterpieces to come from the creative mind of your scribe." She continued not bowing, even if it was expected at that point judging from the way the prince was drumming annoyed on the throne bracelets, merely staring her straight in the eyes.

    Prince Alexander held his gaze longer than many, perhaps not as valiant as himself, had managed.

    "Splendid!" He exclaimed at last, having directed his regal head towards his attendant. "Master Dinocrates is as humble as only a sage can be, and has achieved a level of skill that only a true artist can display. I am sure he will be glad to procure copies of his manuscripts for you, before they are given to the vulgar."

    The literary master made to open his mouth, but no sound came out, or at least Antilene heard nothing. "He is very shy," his patron explained, giving his brown hair a sharp squeeze. "But there is no pen capable of weaving plots and painting emotions like his in all the twelve cities of the Union."

    The little man nodded and approached the half-elf, handing her a sheet of paper. On it Antilene could read a sketchy list of high-toned praise, mostly about her legs and chest. More suitable for a turkey than a maiden, and especially a warrior. For that was what she was.

    ''At least they rhyme.'' "Very... interesting," she tried to thank what must have been... a nice gesture? The half-elf found it difficult to determine for certain whether it was without malice or a way of mocking her. "I will carry these words in my heart." ''While the paper will end up in the trash.''

    Judging by Dinocrates'' sincere expression of gratitude, those compliments were heartfelt. Which was a pity, since they didn''t give her a sufficient excuse to tear his head off.

    "A moving demonstration of how poetry breaks down all boundaries. But at this point, my dear lady Fouche, now that it has been established that you hold no grudge against me, let me explain to you why I requested your presence." The prince had risen again, and had begun to wander about the room. There were no windows there, but he positioned himself on either side of the walls, as if he could absorb heat from them.

    Alexander strolled for a few seconds, saying nothing. A few servants entered eagerly at a clap of his hands, bringing drinks and more food.

    "I''m all ears," Antilene, on the other hand, remained at her place. She refused everything that was offered, without special consideration. "And, please, let''s get this over with. My attendants are waiting for me." ''And a delicious-looking cake, too.'' That last detail remained unspoken.

    "It is good to know which side the swords are on in a conflict," Alexander finally spoke. "In front, serving the cause, or behind, in the darkness, ready to betray? I do not claim to have knowledge of the art of war. Not to the level of those who have lived centuries, at least. I am a fool, and as such I reason like a fool. Forgive my insolence, then, when I ask where your sword is stowed." His voice was firm, impassive. There was no trace of uncertainty, nor arrogance. He was a man who feared for his life, and who was throwing himself into a bottomless ravine, hoping someone would save him.

    "The sword I had was returned," replied Antilene. Delfina was back in the hands of Niles, who would return it to its rightful owner. The minotaur had expressed great sorrow at the death of the previous bearer. So great, that for a moment the half-elf had even considered that grief to be true. "What I have with me is only my body, the scythe I wield, and the Union equipment given to me by the Queen of Ris. What you''re asking is where I align myself and in which direction my interests lie. If you wish to speak as equals, you must first reveal yours to me, prince. It is courtesy to disclose your secrets and intentions, not all of them of course, if you wish to begin to build a relationship of trust."

    Alexander squared her, doubt guiding his eyes. They were both sovereign at that moment. He in his blue velvet and silk caressing his skin, she in her black trousers and half-sleeved shirt. Two sovereigns, different, and at the same time similar.

    For Antilene, that title had no meaning. For Alexander, nothing had meaning outside that title. One defined oneself by titles appropriate to one''s status, which in turn became a second skin that ended up devouring the first. Prince Alexander had let the crown he wore on his head mask his face. The half-elf had rejected her birthright, but had accepted that of beyond life and death, protector of humanity and symbol of the Black Scriptures.

    "There will be war," Alexander finally proclaimed. It was meant to be a solemn proclamation, worthy of a new crusade. To Antilene''s ears it sounded like the desperate cry of someone who did not know what to do. "And I am surrounded by enemies. The Great Plains are still strong, and their armies march on the borders of the Union. When the fall of Karnasus will reach the Equestrian King, a payment will be demanded, which only blood will be able to satisfy. The rivers will swell red, and the lands will feed on corpses for years to come. Although united in name, the alliance between the city-states is weak and hanging by a thread. Karnasus must be at the center of a new pact, stronger and more cohesive."

    He clenched his fists. The hands were full of calluses and blisters, now that Antilene observed them better. In comparison, those of the half-elf were soft and regal, as if they had never known hardship.

    "And how do you intend to do that? I hear you can''t keep clean at home either. Is His Majesty going to get dirty, or will he want to keep claiming to be so neat and clean."

    "Much of my family was executed the moment the city fell," Alexander feigned sadness, but no manly tears furrowed his face. "Some cadet branches are still alive, lacking actual power but still retaining some dignity. The closest relative is a cousin of six, perhaps seven, years, whom I arranged to return to the palace under my sole care the moment I regained power. Not a real danger. The nobility will follow me, and knowing that I have a designated heir in case something happens to me will make my position stronger."

    "But there is more," Antilene urged him to continue. Dinocrates nodded hastily at his master''s side. For a moment, Antilene noticed a sparkle in the little man''s eyes. "Tell me what your intentions are, and I will consider whether it will be worthwhile to continue helping you and your cause."

    Alexander laughed. A crystal clear laugh, furrowed by heavy pauses. "A perceptive woman." Antilene had learned to recognise what lurked in men''s expression, especially when they were turned towards her. Fear and suspicion, above all. But, rarely, also love and friendship. Desire, that was almost always there, many times hinted at, rarely expressed. She did not recognise, however, with which eyes the prince was looking at her. "You are right, my lady. There is more. Ris and Beppo Allo have joined my cause, as has Bebard. I am sure I can count on the support of Veneria and Listaran. But that is not enough. Orcneas wants to submit, and with it goes one of the two richest cities, as well as the best sailors and navigators in the Union. For this, I must cement other alliances, with more security. Words are wind, after all."

    "And how do you intend to do that?"

    "A wedding, my lady. A classic example to seal an alliance. And for this I ask for your help."

    "Marriage is not my speciality," there was an emperor who could have confirmed this. "For what reason should I grant you my assistance?"

    Alexander dribbled his teeth. Sharp fangs that would not have been out of place in a demi-human''s mouth. "For my infinite gratitude, of course. Is that not enough?" Wisdom was to recognise when something foolish was said. And the prince was wise, for he continued: "That, and so much gold that you will be able to build a house on it, when the war is over. Words run deep, and I know the kingdom of Evasha would be very grateful for both of them."

    Wealth was a bewitching prospect, and at the same time devoid of charm for Antilene. Good queens who would accept it there were many in the world. If only she had been a good queen...

    "I have no interest in any of this. However, I am still willing to listen to you, if only because of the debt I owe to the queen of Ris." Hospitality had to be repaid, Antilene was aware of that. Once it was done, any debt accrued would be discharged. "So be quick. Speak!"

    Her voice echoed in the room. Alexander pulled back, while the writer remained motionless.

    "It''s very simple," after a few seconds, the prince had already regained control. "The marriage has already been arranged, with the daughter of the current masters of one of Franklin''s guilds. My bride-to-be brings a substantial dowry, and a much larger promise of alliance. And with her, other unions have been arranged with daughters, sisters, grandchildren of other guild members and part of the nobility of Karnasus and Ris. Even between the son of a female master and a scion of a family of high lineage in Beppo Allo."

    The little man nodded at his master''s speech, emphasizing its truthfulness and importance. At least, that was the only reason Antilene connected to his constant shaking of the head.

    "You have my congratulations. But I don''t understand what I have to do with all this." As maid of honor the half-elf would have been out of place. Same with officiating the ceremony. "Besides, it doesn''t seem like a great time to be celebrating a wedding. The Equestrian King could attack at any moment."

    In the toughest of times, the perfect moments to feast found the occasion to sprout. Rufus used to complain about this custom, apparently shared by all the living. ''Am I beginning to think like an undead?'' A perspective that left Antilene with much puzzlement.

    "You are definitely right," the prince found himself agreeing with her. "Yet my future father-in-law was adamant about sealing the marriage pact as soon as possible. After all, the situation is uncertain. And it would be difficult to reclaim Karnasus after my departure, without the proper formalities." And at that moment, Antilene could not help but imagine Alexander with a noose hanging from his neck, ready only to be pulled. "My city, my people, need me now. And the journey to Franklin is far and dangerous. I would be much more serene, knowing that my betrothed is escorted by someone... trustworthy."

    ''That no one knows the magic of teleportation? No, there is someone.'' Thought the half-elf. "And that someone would be me." This was starting to get interesting.

    "Precisely." Alexander and Dinocrates exchanged a fleeting glance, telling each other everything they had to say in those few moments. "Everyone here knows who saved Karnasus. Of course, your servants will be treated with the utmost consideration while you are away."

    "Of course."

    The idea of leaving Agravaine, Radish and the others to one side while Elienne and Melody were in Ris did not leave Antilene very convinced. On the other hand, staying to twiddle her thumbs in that place was even less titillating.

    "I will send a message so that my remaining servants also reach this city. I trust they will be treated with the highest honors."

    "Your trust will be well placed," a guffawing grin was Alexander''s response. It made it hard to believe that he had grown up among the nobility. "I will treat your attendants as part of my family." At the same time, there was something very princely in his manner. Or maybe it was just all that velvet that gave that impression. All carefully fabricated.

    ''The part still alive, I hope.'' "When do I have to leave?"

    "Today itself. This evening a carriage will be waiting to take you to your destination as quickly as possible. From there, you will be the guest of one of Franklin''s most prestigious inns, waiting for the preparations to be completed."

    One thing was for sure, Alexander was not one to waste time.

    "Good," said Antilene. "Just let me resolve some matters that require my attention. I will complete your mission in a jiffy, and then I will return here. At that point, I expect to find Karnasus in its place again." It would have been unseemly if the city had fallen into enemy hands during her absence. The half-elf was generous, but not so generous as to take the trouble to conquer it a second time.

    "Of that you will not have to worry. You have my word. And the word of a prince is sacred." Alexander brought a hand to his chest, solemnly. The little man sneered.

    "Then, I will bring your bride back here safe and sound. In the meantime, I will eliminate any enemy that should stand in our way."

    The merry-go-round of the world continued to spin, and at that point Antilene found it tiring and annoying to get off.

    At least, a cake was waiting for her.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    ?

    In the dream, he was still young.

    Corpses were piled up at his feet, and the acrid smell of blood permeated the room. The only light was a candle that was almost entirely consumed, the white of the wax almost disappeared. A matter of minutes -maybe seconds- at most.

    The woman clutched the child, while crimson drops flowed from the tip of the knife he was carrying to the floor. The screams directed at him were incomprehensible.

    As he approached, the woman continued to hold the child. With each step, she became more and more indistinct, a mere shadow among many.

    He snatched the child from her arms, kicking her away. The child looked at him with emotionless eyes. The red of his skin barely moved, imperceptibly.

    The knife was plunged into his heart with a single, precise lunge. The screams intensified, splitting his eardrums, but they continued to be only sounds he could not discern. The child only moved for a few seconds before he took his last breath. His body lit up the pile behind him.

    He approached the mother. She tried to resist, a last rush of anger and contempt. He slit her throat, staining it with her son''s blood. The woman looked at him with vague eyes, before dying. She did not collapse. She remained there, impotent, while the blood continued to gush. The features began to change, until they took on a rosy hue, the animalistic shape transformed into a more delicate and familiar appearance.

    His mother looked at him, saying nothing.

    The man returned the silence.

    Then his mother became his wife, always with that fixed, emotionless gaze.

    It was the man''s turn to cry now.

    His wife became all his daughters, one after the other followed while the red liquid did not stop. At their feet, a deep red pool had formed, glistening like silver in the almost disused light of the candle.

    His daughter, the oldest, smiled at him, as she always did as a child. An innocent smile, devoid of any form of malice. She raised her hand, and pointed to the pool.

    He lowered himself and saw his reflection in the blood. Meanwhile his daughter had begun to laugh.

    He was old again.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Silksuntecks

    When he woke up, the first thing Raymond did was to check where he was. His desk was the first thing he saw. The amount of work piled on top of it was the second. He brought a hand to his temple, massaging it. The light coming in through the window warned him that dawn was coming.

    He touched the forefinger of his right hand, finding nothing in contact but bare skin.

    ''I fell asleep at work. Again.'' The Cardinal hadn''t been home for the night for a week now. And, except for brief moments to clean himself up, he had not left his office for just as long. ''What''s this?'' A cape had been placed over his shoulders, good protection against the morning chill, and steaming coffee waited inches from his nose.

    He savored the aroma, beginning to feel better. Just a taste of sugar, the way he liked it. The mixture had been flavored with some herbs from the south, and some incantations from the good cooks of the cathedrals, which made the restorative properties even more exceptional. The magic had no flavor, per se, but Raymond had always maintained that the best chef-magicians could accentuate the best qualities of any dish. And the Theocracy''s were unique in skills and originality.

    It was like dipping the tongue into sweet ambrosia, and at the same time with a touch of bitterness that enhanced its density even more.

    The cup was emptied slowly, each sip given the dignity befitting such a small miracle. When he had finished, Raymond placed the cup back on the desk, beginning to feel better. He was still numb from sleep, more of a psychological factor than a physical one actually, and the dream he had just experienced was slowly receding into the recesses of his memory.

    He glanced at the door, conveniently closed. No noise came from outside.

    "You may come in, Delia. I''m awake." There was no need to raise his voice. After only a few moments, a crawling was heard and a woman with short blond hair entered.

    "Good morning, your excellency Lauransan. Once again today we pay homage to the Six Great Gods with devotion and readiness of spirit." She lowered her head, with a ready and refined gesture, immediately pointing deep black eyes at him. "The day''s programme is very full. Is his excellency ready to get to work? Or would his excellency prefer another cup of coffee? Or maybe tea? I can have it ready promptly, just in time to go down to the kitchens." The woman bit her lip, as if realizing a big mistake. "Or perhaps his excellency wanted something to eat? Would his excellency prefer sweet or savory? Anything his excellency asks for will be provided."

    Raymond reassured her with a wave of his hand, unable to hold back a grimace from exhaustion. "Good morning to you, Delia. I thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I''m good. You know I don''t like to binge on breakfast." They had repeated that dance at least a hundred times, always with the same result. But the Earth Cardinal held no grudge or anything else against his deputy. Only the Gods knew how persistent he had been, not to say worse, when he was in the same position. "You, rather, have you had a good, rich breakfast? I know young people feel full of energy, but that''s no reason for them to neglect themselves like us old folk."

    The woman opened the shutters, letting the morning warmth invade the room. "I had hot black coffee and scrambled eggs." She approached him, letting the Cardinal catch a glimpse of the muscular body toning beneath the priest''s robes. "You should put something under your teeth too, your grace. A good breakfast and sufficient caloric intake are indispensable to stay healthy. My grandmother used to say that it is in the diet that lies the secret of immortality."

    "Ah, the old folk wisdom. Mine used to say something similar. I suppose in a few years it will be my turn to dispense advice like candies to the younger generation. I''m just afraid it won''t be that long before I find myself tending a vegetable garden in the countryside and disquisition on important topics like food and weather."

    "Nonsense. His excellency still has much to offer the earth department and the Theocracy," Delia retorted proudly. Sometimes Raymond had the feeling that he had chosen as his second not only a capable person, but a dragon made human.

    "How much longer do you think I can continue to serve?" He asked her.

    "Another hundred years at least!"

    This provoked a laugh from Raymond, although he was aware that Delia was entirely serious. "In that case, I will have to work hard not to disfigure and disappoint your expectations." Cardinals in the Slaine Theocracy were allowed to retire if age became too advanced to continue with their duties, but it was mostly a discretionary choice. Zenedine was nearing eighty years of age, and Raymond was certain he would continue in his role for a long time to come. "Let''s move on to the agenda for the day, shall we?" To be less than that? Impossible.

    "As his grace wishes. First, though..."

    "Of course, of course. The prayer."

    They joined hands, and began to recite a few verses from the book of Earth. Mostly invocations pleading for mercy, but also guidance towards action and the future. Delia''s fingers were trembling at the contact of Raymond''s, a quiver that could not be concealed. The man knew that his position exerted a reverential awe, even towards those who had only to teach him. He accepted this, even if he did not shy away from sometimes wishing things could be easier.

    But they never were.

    "This morning is busy," Delia said, starting to compose herself again. She only had a small folder in her bag, but to doubt that it was not carefully organized would be foolish. And Raymond, vainly, did not consider himself a fool. "First, the account of General Bulgari and the conquest of the Diarchy. The singular tussle required to end the war saw our overwhelming victory, as the Scripture''s report also attests. Negotiations for the submission and establishment of the protectorate are underway and a detailed report has been sent with the demands and concessions to be determined. The Grand Marshal, the Grand Judge and His Excellency the Cardinal of Darkness will meet this evening to discuss the preliminary steps, with your presence requested, of course."

    "So Aeneas has won?" Raymond had complete faith in that outcome. The diarchy did not have sufficient military strength to defeat a Godkin. Still, apprehension was natural in such a situation. Every time he sent the Black Scriptures on a mission, he had the feeling he was sending his own children to the gallows, with one exception. "Did the Diarchy accept defeat so easily?"

    "Both princes agreed, as long as the lives of the demi-humans living within the future protectorate will be spared."

    "They will be, as long as they have a use. It seems the war there in the south isn''t over yet, and having some soldiers withdraw so they can rejoin their families isn''t such an evil prospect." Besides, treating non-human lives fairly would have made the Platinum Dragon Lord and Argland more sympathetic towards them. In the worst situation, they could have used the Diarchy as a bargaining chip, or a shield. "I don''t need to tell you that this agreement will have to remain secret. Officially, we have won the war, plundered their wealth and exterminated much of the population, to teach the enemies of the humans the harsh lesson they deserve."

    "I have been in touch with Cardinal Yvon''s entourage. The news to be spread will be carefully chosen, and some exaggerations to make ours more credible have already begun to spread." Delia''s lips closed in a kind of smile. Very calm, but also full of cunning. "For those we can''t control, we will simply brand them as lies."

    "Very well. Already things with the elves are not going as hoped," which was not so surprising. The humans would have forgotten the conflict, for time was the best of deceivers. But this advantage was not mutual. "The Clearwater and Windflower Scriptures will have much to do. Please have a message drafted with my apologies for the extra assignment. And arrange a meeting with the Ministry of Economy to determine if it would be feasible to grant some bonus for the egregious work done."

    "Very well, but I must warn you that any further incentive will most likely be refused. Shall I still schedule the meeting?"

    "Yes, please do. Maybe we can convince someone to accept. In any case, it will be a gesture that will be appreciated. Happy soldiers and money saved. A great compromise." And even if everyone accepted the bonus, it would still be a non-defeat. As a retired member of the Scriptures, Raymond was aware, however, of how slim those chances were. "And another thing. Put me in touch with Divine Chant, I want to hear her opinion on new minstrels we can start training."

    "Will do," Delia quickly jotted down that last note. Then she picked up some of the packets that lay on her desk and selected a handful. "These are the reports I was talking about. I had hoped you would be able to finish reading them before today, but the dream lord has beaten my expectations, Your Excellency."

    "It was a daring fight, with an uncertain outcome. I lost, but only because I started out not quite in my optimal condition. Tonight there will be a rematch, and I am sure I will be able to bring, if not a victory, at least a draw." Of returning home, Raymond had no illusions. But he was confident that he would at least be able to find rest on one of the cots in the office. As read, the chair would not receive a stellar review, unfortunately.

    Delia remained impassive, continuing to watch him with that look mixed with admiration and compassion. "I''ve had a short summary drawn up with highlights. It won''t have to replace the original, but it will be useful for easier memorisation."

    "I am infinitely grateful," Raymond said. He began to read the provided summary, repeating aloud what he considered the most interesting parts. "It says here that we will receive something very special. A trophy from our champion, rather... unusual. What do you think?"

    "If the resurrection is accepted, we can earn a valuable asset. If not, we will have lost nothing. The last word, in any case, is up to the representatives of the Gods."

    Not entirely correct, as the ritual would still require a not inconsiderable price in terms of resources and time. "A loose cannon cannot be resurrected in the middle of the capital, as there is always the risk of it exploding. On the other hand, such a champion does not appear every day. I''ll take the matter to the council, see if I can find a suitable location and guards for the purpose."

    Matters of that kind were beyond his sole competence. Seven minds thought better of one, as was to be expected, and so a final decision was postponed. ''In any case, to have astonished Aeneas he must indeed have been an exceptional warrior.''

    "Shall I continue?" Delia distracted him from his thoughts. For someone whose task was so reliant on using his mind rather than his body, the Cardinal of Earth found very few moments when he could devote himself to deep meditation. "There is still much to discuss."

    Raymond nodded, smoothing his forehead. The various matters to be addressed followed one after the other, giving him barely time to process them.

    Mostly matters of logistics and organization, but also reports of possible dangers and the drafting of teams to eliminate them. In all, the operating area of the Scriptures occupied every human kingdom in that part of the continent, as well as the Union of city-states and some sparsely populated areas. The work to be done, therefore, was voluminous, and there was never enough staff.

    "In addition, I have received a notice from your daughter."

    Raymond''s stomach did a somersault, and for a moment he felt as if it had turned inside out. The choice to avoid breakfast could never have been so correct. "Which of the three?"

    "The oldest," Delia replied. She had an unusually judgmental expression.

    ''Female solidarity is really something to be feared.'' For someone who had put his life on the line between disaster and peace, few things could generate a tremor. "What does she require?"

    As a father, Raymond knew he had not been exemplary. Finding a justification for spending more time with his daughters had always been incredibly easy and, in retrospect, resulted in more regrets than he had believed at the time. Once he had retired from the camp, he vowed to right that wrong, but good intentions did not always go as planned.

    "Your nephew has taken his first steps in this wretched world," a rather dramatic way of explaining that he had begun to walk, but Raymond pretended not to notice. "Therefore, and here I am paraphrasing, ''his Excellency, who certainly cannot move his sacred ass from his throne made of prayers, might agree to let the light of his life come and visit him, so that he may see with his own eyes the first true man of the family. Afterword: great are the Gods.''" A deadpan intonation. How did Delia manage to maintain it?

    "Miriam has always had a certain rather... peculiar way of expressing herself," something the child had picked up neither from him nor from his wife. And although a bold tongue was the gripe of maids and servants, not to mention parents, Raymond had always considered it a charming trait to be cultivated, not suppressed. The gifts of the Gods were known to be strange, but not necessarily unpleasant. "Send a message in reply, telling her that I would be delighted to receive both my daughter and my dear grandson. It has been a long time since I have seen them, and the Gods know how much I could use a distraction."

    Only daughters were given as blessings to the Cardinal of Earth. His grandson was the first male in the bloodline. Even if he would not keep the name Lauransan, it was still a source of great pride for Raymond.

    "I will find a time slot. In three days, a few hours before dinner there should be a half-hour split. I was planning to give you the opportunity to rest, but I think you will have to wait. Fortunately, by then, the fatigue canceling ring should be back in place."

    "Splendid," magic items could relieve the stress on the body, but not the stress on the mind. That was why it was imperative that periods of use were alternated with periods of quiet. "I wish I had more time to devote to my family."

    "Every man and woman in the Theocracy desires this," Delia replied, calmly. If that woman could know weariness, Raymond never had the opportunity to witness it. "In this, the voice of the Cardinals is the voice of the people." There was a pause, unusual. "His Excellency Lauransan is a man worthy of respect and esteem, so I will try to move a few appointments around to allow his Excellency to spend a couple more minutes with his daughter and grandson."

    Raymond dismissed her with a simple wave of his hand. "There will be no need for that. Something like this would require an increase in both your work and that of the other members of the department. I will find a solution that does not burden my subordinates." He turned to look for inspiration in the effigy of the Six that towered over the room. The Gods, in such cases, knew how to be deaf.

    Delia opened her mouth, and Raymond was sure she would countermand his orders. "As his Excellency wishes," she said instead, defeated even before starting. "But I remind you that each of the men in your service lives to serve. To serve the Gods, to serve the nation, and to serve the Cardinals."

    Raymond smiled kindly at her. "And I remind you that the Cardinals also serve. They serve the Gods, they serve the nation and they serve the people. People that include you, Delia." The woman lowered her gaze. She never blushed, but that did not mean ice could not know warmth. "Putting an end to this matter, what are the other agendas? There was the issue of the Draconic Kingdom and the invasion of beastmen."

    "I have Captain Luin''s report here. Detailed as always, but I did not detect any noteworthy information. Since they found that strange corpse, the enemies seem to have disappeared from the borders, and the search continues to result in nothing." Delia cleared her throat with a few coughs. "Of course, I wouldn''t dream of comparing my analytical skills with a legendary hero like the former third seat of the Black Scriptures. I implore you to take a close look at it and point out to me any errors and points of criticism."

    "I will do so," although Raymond strongly doubted there could be any inaccuracies. But as a direct superior, it was his job to carefully check every point and comma, both out of respect for his office and for those who gave their energy to provide him with results that bordered on perfection. To use perceived inferiority to avoid doing his duty was unforgivable. At that point, more correct would have been to abandon his position. "Do you think it is time to withdraw the Sunlight Scriptures? The Tob Forest is restless these days, and their intervention may be necessary. And then there is the matter of Windstride. She hasn''t caused any trouble, has she?"

    If the Black Scriptures were like children of his own, Raymond would never have had a problem pointing out which one was the most problematic. He had hoped that giving Clementine some position of responsibility, away from her brother, would do wonders for her sense of duty. But the more time passed, the more he regretted that decision, although there were no concrete reasons for it.

    "Windstride was completely cooperative, even though there was no shortage of barbs at the futility of that assignment in her reports." Delia bit her lip, evidently uncertain whether to continue. "In any case, if I may give my humble advice, it would be more prudent to let Captain Luin and his men stay a while longer. That corpse they found did not bode well."

    "I will consider your proposal, but remember that we have other men in the Draconic Kingdom, and we cannot let the Scriptures remain in one place for too long," the weight of command, much to Raymond''s chagrin, many times demanded making difficult decisions, which would often end in tragedy. If it was not possible to limit them, it was at least their job to contain them. "A few weeks at most, and then it will be time to go home."

    "His Excellency, as always, is right." His deputy genuflected, touching the floor. Raymond immediately gave her the order to stand up, to avoid embarrassment. "I will see to the orders, as soon as it is time."

    The large pendulum clock in the room vibrated, striking midday.

    "It''s lunchtime," Raymond noticed, looking up. "Will you eat with me, Delia?"

    "With great pleasure. I will have something brought immediately. Does his Excellency wish for anything in particular?"

    "The usual will do."

    It took a few minutes before the woman entered along with two servants and a tray full of food. Nothing too complicated, mostly sandwiches with assortments of various meats and juicy fruit for dessert. The servants placed everything on the desk, setting the table with a simple tablecloth, and then withdrew just as quickly.

    "I see you are in good company for lunch today," along with Delia, someone else had decided to stop and share lunch with them. A towering man with long white hair, wearing a linen tunic that left his mighty chest almost exposed, well familiar to Raymond. "I brought you some beer from the Holy Kingdom, I hope you''ll appreciate it."

    "Any gift from you is always appreciated by me, Samson. Back from your mission already?"

    The man placed a glass bottle on the table, along with a couple of colossal-sized cups. "Yes, I came to report to his Excellency the Cardinal as soon as possible." He opened the bottle, and began pouring its contents into the glasses. "I didn''t think I would miss seeing your face so much. Yet here I am, like a young lad anxious to return between his lover''s legs." He was about to offer Raymond a glass, when Delia promptly stopped him.

    "Let me taste it first. It might be poisoned."

    The strongest man in the world looked at Delia. "Woman, do you really believe that a member of the Black Scriptures, with honorable years of service behind him, could make an attempt on the life of an old comrade, a close friend and direct superior?" The difference in size, so obvious, and Samson''s pointed sideburns that were beginning to twitch, gave the impression of being in front of a big cat that had sniffed a small mouse.

    The mouse, however, was not the type to be frightened by so little. "No," Delia replied firmly. "And I am prepared to suffer the consequences of such disrespect. But it is the practice. I cannot let the Cardinal''s life be put at risk, even if that risk is practically non-existent."

    Samson stared at her for a few seconds. He chuckled, and turned towards Raymond. "You got yourself a capable young assistant, old friend. I almost feel envious of you." He took another glass and refilled it, before offering it to Delia. "Cheers to you, woman. The only thing I ask of you is an honest opinion. It was a long-time contact of mine who gave it to me as a gift. If he dared to give me a bad product, he must be informed as soon as possible."

    Delia took a small sip, and immediately her impression became disgusted. "It''s very strong," she tried to compose herself, not without some difficulty. "And also very bitter. What is its alcohol content?"

    Samson, who in the meantime had poured a glass for himself as well, let out a very loud laugh. "Ninety-one degrees. Or maybe ninety-two. I can never remember. Unfortunately, he didn''t have the ninety-five-degree one." He drained the contents in one go, immediately pouring himself a second. "Just a way to whet your appetite, isn''t it, old friend?"

    Raymond followed suit, though not with quite as much impetus. "I can see why she cannot appreciate it more, Samson. You really need trained taste buds to drink this." The acidity tickled his tongue, making him wish for sweeter flavors. "Anyway, how did the mission go?"

    The man stretched. Every time he did so, Raymond had the impression that his muscles were performing a decidedly atypical concert. "You were right. The Rainbow Scales was trying to form a coalition between the various tribes in the Hills. The Emperor Beast and the Ashes King had already come over to his side, and many others were planning to follow him."

    The Cardinal let out a sigh. "This is problematic. If it really were to happen, the Holy Kingdom would fall. And then it would be up to us to deal with them, and the Elf King''s losses are still being felt." They had drawn up a new recruitment plan with the Grand Marshal and had optimistically assumed that they would be able to replenish at least forty percent of the lost soldiers in a ten-year time frame. With the southern front still open, and the situation uncertain in the Draconic Kingdom, opening another front would have been far too costly for their current capabilities. "How did you proceed?"

    "As we were ordered. We waited for them to be alone and then cut down two of the most famous chieftains. The armor of the Great King of Destruction and the ax of Black Steel have already been delivered to the armory." Samson yawned noisily. "We then proceeded to take down a few poorly defended villages. Heaven and Earth left a couple of souvenirs that will raise more than a few suspicions. With any luck, doubt and old grudges will find fertile ground on which to grow. With even more luck, they will exterminate each other."

    "With a bit of luck, but do we have it?" Always act like the unluckiest person in the world. A piece of advice to treasure, and one that Raymond used to repeat to himself at every opportunity. "We may be forced to send you to face the Rainbow Scales before Aeneas returns. In that case, do you think it is possible for you to succeed in defeating him?"

    The strongest man in the world had a habit of smoothing his beard enclosed in sumptuous braids whenever someone asked him such a question. "Hard to say, without having some more information. If I were to consider the other heroes of the Hills, it shouldn''t be such a difficult battle, assuming it''s a face-to-face, one-on-one fight." Samson closed his eyes, only to open them again immediately afterwards devoid of uncertainty. "The problem would be facing him in said situation. He is a cautious guy, according to the Clearwater Scripture. Always surrounded by trusted guards."

    "I see," Raymond whispered, beginning to sense the impending headache. "We''ll leave it at that for the time being, and just observe. There are too many unknowns, and the Hills still hold too many secrets for us. We must be cautious."

    "As long as caution does not become cowardice, that''s fine with me," commented Samson, serene on the surface, but with a note of dissatisfaction distinctly clear in the Cardinal''s ears. "The time is coming for me. I don''t know if a year from now you will still find me sitting at this table, talking to you."

    Raymond looked at his old companion. Far more advanced in years than he, but brimming with health. His skin was still smooth and polished, sunburned and full of scars; his breathing firm and sure, free of aches and pains. The gaze still sharp, penetrating. If anyone had seen that goliath, he could never have entertained the idea that the end could even approach him.

    "Delia, could you give us a few minutes alone?"

    "There''s still a lot of work to be done..." The woman did not continue, Raymond''s gentle expression being enough to convince her. "I understand. I''ll be back in a few minutes." She stood up, and quietly closed the door behind her.

    "You got yourself a really good assistant," Samson whistled, watching her leave. "If only I were younger, and didn''t already have two wives, I''d think about it."

    "She is not my assistant, but the current vice-cardinal of the earth," Raymond corrected the man, giving him a reproachful look. "Be respectful. One day she might be your direct superior."

    Samson sprawled in the chair, so small it made him look ridiculous. "I doubt there will be that problem, but I''ll keep that in mind."

    "You are still young, I expect that you will also serve my successor faithfully."

    "Since when do priests lie?"

    "Since today."

    They shared a heartfelt laugh. At that moment, they both needed it.

    "I am old, Raymond," Samson suddenly became serious, decidedly out of character, but no less real for that. "How much longer can I go on with this life? The body hasn''t left me yet, but what if it were to do so one day? What if it decides to betray me right in the middle of a mission? The lives of my comrades could be put at risk, just because of my arrogance."

    Raymond knew that feeling of helplessness well. It was the same one that had convinced him to retire, years ago, when he had realized that reacting to a blow was becoming more and more difficult, when his breath was getting shorter and shorter, when even waking up at dawn was no longer a gentle breeze.

    However, Samson was different. He was already a veteran when Raymond had joined the Blacks, and would be there until the end of his days. Of both their days.

    "Then retire. It will be a hard blow, but your service has been perfect for so long that no one will dare deny you. And that will not mean abandoning the cause. Recruits always need guides. You will simply change battlefields."

    Age brought compromises. A harsh lesson from an equally harsh teacher.

    "And wither in such a wretched way? Nonsense, old friend," in the chest of the strongest man in the world still was beating a heart made of flame. The blood of the Gods was strong in Samson. Not as strong as it had been in others, perhaps. But in terms of hotness, it was second to none. "I have long since sorted all earthly matters. My children are settled, ready to serve the Gods as we did. My wives will spend an old age in luxury and ease, in return for all the cares I have put them through. All that remains is for me to find a death that suits my existence," the blackness of his eyes lit up with a dazzling light. "I do not claim to have made every moment of my life bright, Raymond. I do not claim that mine has been an exemplary story, worthy of being remembered in the annals. I want to shine, old friend. I want to shine, if only for a moment. When that moment comes, the only thing I hope to hear is laughter of joy and enjoyment. Even if they were to come from only one person: me."

    "I understand what you mean," Raymond said. He did not share that aspiration, but that did not mean he did not sympathize with it. "I always thought it would be our little girl who would fulfill this wish of yours. But sometimes events take unexpected turns." There were days when it was easy to wonder how things could have turned out differently. One mistake could have been enough to bring ruin. "I would have been very curious to see that confrontation."

    If Samson yearned to fall for the hands of the strongest, then he should not have traveled far, at least not until some time ago.

    "It would have been interesting, though there would have been little doubt as to the eventual winner. Aye, certainly the most exciting five seconds of my life they would have been." With his fingers, the world''s strongest man scratched the world''s biggest nose. "Besides, the little girl can be very stubborn when she wants to be. I don''t think she would have accepted such a request with joy."

    "Be careful what you say," Raymond warned him, arching his lips slightly. "She might hear you."

    "Ahaha, like hell she could." Samson began to look around, nervously. "She can''t, can she?"

    "Who knows? I never fully understood what she was capable of." As one set his gaze to the sky, it was difficult to determine exactly how much distance separated it from the earth. "Just in case, I will make sure to report what you said. You may find yourself under a pit sooner than you had hoped."

    "Priests lie, and priests also tell jokes apparently. How can a simple devotee trust them in this condition?" Samson shrugged his monumental shoulders, shifting the air with that simple gesture alone. "Since she''s gone, things haven''t changed much. Yet, everything seems different. Maybe it''s because she''s always been there, in that corridor keeping watch, but I expect to see that little girl popping up from one day to the next in the same place, watching the walls as if I''m not even there. Even the guardian deity hasn''t been around much since she left, though I suppose it was only natural, given how fond of her he was."

    Indeed it was true, Raymond found himself agreeing. The guardian deity, already normally elusive and enigmatic, had retreated even further into the deepest part of the sacred shrine, and there were rare occasions when he would show his presence.

    "We simply do not need the advice of our guardian at this time. I remember him saying that beyond life and death would not be gone for too long before returning to the fold. A decade or so, and she would resume her position." Or was it a century? Raymond wondered if when that happened, he would still hold his current position. Probably a vain hope, but he wished to still have enough energy to welcome her back. "For now, let''s monitor her movements and cover her tracks."

    "I hear she is now in the City-State Union," Samson''s mouth dropped open for two reasons. The first was speaking, of course. The second was to swallow a sizable pear in one mouthful, eventually spitting out only the torso after a couple of seconds. "Did you get any more news?"

    Raymond was undecided whether to pour himself another glass of beer, or switch to water. He opted for the healthiest solution. "She''s giving battle to the Equestrian King''s troops. With any luck, she''ll get a headache out of our way. Where have I put that report?" It took him a while to find it amidst all those papers, but eventually the flier he was looking for popped up amidst an account of the location of the current Scriptures and a report on the swamp lizardmen. "Here, read."

    Samson flipped through it quickly, before placing it back into Raymond''s hands. "What is it? A joke? Who could possibly believe such rubbish? Besides, there is no mention of our old companion."

    The confusion that was furrowing his old friend''s brow amused Raymond. "I think it''s brilliant. It''s so stupid that no one will believe it, and so the rumors will start circulating. Even if the truth is told, no one will be able to take it without a good dose of skepticism. Our agents are already at work, at least a dozen different versions are starting to circulate. I think that was the author''s goal." To hide something, usually there was nothing better than to put it in plain sight. But, to be brutal, sometimes it was even enough to bury it under a big pile of shit. Few would dare stick their hand to the bottom. "Although there is no mention of her, we are sure that beyond life and death was crucial in repelling the siege. This will further disguise her presence."

    "If you say so," Samson was still undecided, but he trusted his words. "You have always been wittier than me on these matters, which is why you stand where you are now. History is written by the victors, I suppose. We''ll just have to keep winning to be trouble-free."

    History was written by the victors, a great maxim indeed. "That''s not quite right," Raymond corrected him. "The important thing is not always to win, in situations like this. Although it can be a valuable help, I don''t deny that."

    "What do you mean?"

    "History, or rather the writing of history, is in itself both art and war," Raymond began to explain.

    "The war part I can understand," Samson interrupted, his expression a jigsaw puzzle with many pieces missing. "But the art one... I''m too ignorant for that."

    "That''s because you''re a brute," the Cardinal poked him playfully. "Listen to me. It is art because it requires, to be passed on, an ability to strike at the heart. The texts on everyone''s lips are not necessarily the best or the most reliable, but rather those that have been able to impose themselves for their stylistic supremacy because, above all else, men are in search of what is beautiful and not what is true. And so the advance charge of the cavalry is an act of valor, not stupidity; the patience that precedes the attack is not mere cowardice dictated by uncertainty, but a cunning military stratagem. And this makes it, at the same time, war. As even the most objective writers are influenced by those demons called ''opinions'', in a constant struggle for supremacy. The revolutionary becomes tyrant, the oppressor hero of the people. It is the inner conflict that manifests itself as an outer conflict. It is deception, backbiting. It is a weapon."

    A weapon that was hardest of all to sharpen. A weapon that, more than any other, was difficult to handle.

    "And so strength would not be sufficient to control it?" Samson asked. Despite his appearance giving the opposite impression, he was quick to grasp things. "To listen to you, it would seem that the world belongs to the poets¡­ Might doesn''t make right... A pleasant outlook. But do you think it actually is so? One day even the Theocracy could be completely annihilated, and then what would we become, if not the demons that have hunted down and exterminated countless other races?"

    "Should that day come... We might be remembered, as you say, as sinners and fanatics. Our heritage sullied, and our past erased and altered." In the end, it was possible to have control over everything, except for the mark that was left on the world. "Yet, and call me foolish for this, I am sure that our motives would resurface anyway. Even the defeated, sometime, win. There are many examples I could give you..."

    ''One closer than you can imagine,'' but that last thought remained a secret. ''Great heroes win, and etch their lives in legend, but their legacy will not always follow them in people''s memory...'' The memento that had been imparted to him the day he had taken his vows as Cardinal. Old Carnesio''s voice was still vivid and alive in Raymond''s mind, like a flame that had never dimmed.

    "In the end these are just theories," Samson began to rise. "That is not what will bring salvation to humanity. I do as I was taught, and in doing so I ask very few questions. A simple life, for a simple death."

    "You are right about that," Raymond found himself agreeing. Judging what they had done, and would continue to do, would eventually fall to others. "I had a dream today. Do you recall my first mission?"

    The strongest man in the world also had a very good memory, because he answered without thinking twice. "And how could I forget? There was that hobgoblin village. The Empire? Or was it the Holy Kingdom? Either way, we couldn''t let them breed too much, especially with the other goblin tribes in the surrounding area. I remember their leaders had a lot of potential, too bad the captain at the time took all the fun..." The braids of his beard moved, in rhythm with his good humor.

    "That is correct. That day, I was in charge of the chiefs'' wives and children. A dozen in all. Everything went smoothly, after a few minutes I was already back." The blood had soaked into his fingers after the fact, and the sticky feeling reemerged, still clung to his skin. "But a woman... tried to resist. Or maybe it was just me being too slow. I think she had screamed, even though I am not sure now. I had completely forgotten about it, until today."

    "Did you perhaps have some belated feelings of compassion? Because, if we''re being honest, that''s not even remotely one of the most gruesome things we pulled off when we were on a mission," Samson tried to comfort him, in his own way. "They were just goblins."

    "No, nothing like that. It''s just... weird. I don''t know how to describe it. I''m getting old, too, and maybe I''m starting to think more and more about the consequences of our actions. I''m not having second thoughts or anything. I''m just saying... isn''t another way possible? Things with the elves are coming back together, slowly. Very slowly. Maybe the dream of a league of humanoids, united against all other races, wouldn''t be out of reach." At least, it would be worth a try. Living with an orc? Absolutely impossible. Living with a dwarf? Maybe it wasn''t a lost cause.

    "That I cannot say," Samson took one of the apples that lay on the table. "What I can tell you is that something similar happened to me on the mission. Not a dream. No. After killing the bafolk leader, we took care of the survivors. One brat tried to protect his mother. I grabbed him by the head like this." He put the apple right in front of his eyes. "And then I tightened my grip." The fruit crumbled into a thousand pieces as the pulp cascaded like a rushing waterfall onto the table, overflowing onto the tablecloth and coming into contact with the wood. "The female screamed in despair. Later, I repeated the same thing with her. Just enough pause to give her the time to mourn. I did the same with everyone who tried to resist. To the others, I granted a quick death."

    "I hope you will clean it," the wood had absorbed the pulp, but small traces of bright yellow continued to remain on the surface.

    Samson didn''t listen to him, and began to head for the door. "I did what had to be done, just as you will do the same. There was no hesitation in my hand, for I knew that if I only left one of those little bastards alive, he might one day become a new Great King of Destruction. And then it would be human children''s turn begging for mercy."

    He closed the door, leaving Raymond alone with his thoughts.

    The Cardinal took the tablecloth, and began wiping the soiled table.

 Chapter 48: portrayal

    Chapter 48

    Portrayal

    Sorsilia Empire

    "I don''t know anything. I didn''t see anything. I have heard nothing."

    Even though she had expected it, Keno was still disappointed. The snow was falling lazily outside the inn, like an unchanging truth, and as such the answers to her questions followed the same inexorable pattern of the past few days. A play without actors, with the vampire in the center and her mission on the stage, whose jokes were beginning to become irritating in their simplicity and directness.

    "Again, nothing here," Gagaran had commented, when they had left the inn. The quintessential space for those in search of a good drink and something warm. Above all, the perfect place for those who were looking for information. Keno could not appreciate the first, as for the second... Expectations were rarely fulfilled.

    "There''s not much we can do. We just have to keep looking and trying," they had been in the Sorsilia Empire for weeks now. The blue roses had wandered far and wide, greeted by commendable welcome, and spirit of friendship that had almost brought tears to their eyes. Until they started asking about the Witch King, at least.

    At that point, the atmosphere changed in an instant, and where there was warmth, frost began to set its reign. "And we''d better get away from here, before these looks turn into something worse."

    The rumors were an omen of long nights and equally dark events. The cold had come to re-embrace an atmosphere it had found akin to home. In the whispers, sad tales were lurking. And tomorrow inevitably looked bleak.

    "The cultists of the red demon come from the north, their words are fire and their blood is pus and poison. They sing of blasphemy and new orders, where lies are law, and treason a virtue."

    "News comes of basilisks awakening in the mountains, of chimeras establishing lairs where civilisation has not dared to settle. Perhaps the monsters are the real masters, and they will come to put us in chains."

    "The giants of the clouds prepare storms and tempests, ready to bring them down upon us. The serene weather will soon be only a beautiful memory. Let us bathe for the last time in the rays of the sun, before the sunset becomes perennial."

    "Who will protect us?"

    And at the center of it all, at the juncture of every hearsay, every uneasy murmurs lost in beer and laughter was him. Never directly mentioned, never even indirectly brought into the discussion. He who would protect those people was also the source of their fears.

    Yet Keno knew he was there, watching from the shadows. In her restlessness the vampire had glimpsed icy eyes staring at her, stripping her of any semblance of strength, any artifice mounted for defense.

    Pure white eyes, like the snow she now trod. Keno wondered if she had been the only one, or if the other blue roses had also been touched by that semblance of white, those uniform flakes that had found an end to a short journey on their petals.

    "For the moment, everything seems quiet," Tia reassured. "Nothing that could pose a danger on the horizon," Tina had finished.

    The first thing to make sure, once entering an unfamiliar place, was assuring that there were no spaces to get surrounded and stuck. The second was the greatest source of danger. The third a safe escape route. Tia and Tina, in this, proved crucial. If they had not been there to act as support... Keno didn''t even want to even imagine it.

    "In a couple of days we will be at the capital," Lakyus had said hopefully. Her cleric chain adorned with the azure of the Water God was well hidden, under a pale red robe. For some strange reason, religion was not well regarded in those places. Or, at least, only one was welcome. That the worship of the Water God was known among those people was highly unlikely, yet caution was never too much. "I don''t see our friend. Well, not that I''ve seen him much these days."

    Mairon, their Commonwealth contact, was a peculiar¡­ personality. To them, provincials from a remote part of the world, he was a wolf-man like many others. Instinct would have warned to flee from his advice. And, perhaps, it would have been proven right, in the future. But the present demanded allies, and a relationship based on distrust was always better than one based on nothing.

    "How you hairless apes decide to refer to me is of no importance," he had explained to them. "But if we are to enter into a relationship of trust and friendship, know that I am not a savage like those you are used to. My people, the aran, which means king, were the progenitors of the commonwealth. My bloodline is so pure that lords and emperors can not boast such nobility. Not that that matters much, does it?" There was something in his spellbinding gaze that caught the eye. Small and clear, they invited anyone who looked at them to enter an enchanted, bewitching world. "Let us work together, to bring peace."

    He always repeated that word: peace. How much could a word be repeated until its meaning was lost? A number that would have made the many years which Keno carried in her small frame appear insignificant, for sure.

    "He went in search of a new contact," Keno recalled. Some children played enthusiastically in the streets, making the most of the supply of snow that the skies had bestowed upon them. The afternoon air was cold, and the beauty of the sunset, of the sun setting in the horizon, was the only thing that could quiet the vampire''s troubled soul, for a little, at least. Just enough to bring her to think clearly. "He was sure to get one by the end of the day, though he wouldn''t tell me how." The other blue roses had ... difficulty interacting with the aran. Part of Keno linked it to an unfamiliarity with approaching members of a different race. Good intentions only led so far, after all.

    But if someone had asked the vampire what the real reason was, her answer would have been something else, without hesitation.

    "What?" Suddenly, something icy hit the vampire. Snow began to drip from the hood. Turning around, Keno could see Gagaran fully armed with snowballs, while Lakyus watched her companion somewhere between disappointed and amused. "Very mature of you," the little enchantress commented.

    Gagaran smiled contemptuously at her. "We should follow the example of the brats here and learn to enjoy ourselves. Such compact snow rarely falls on Re-Estize." She finished speaking, and a second cannonball headed towards Keno.

    This time, however, the vampire was aware of the attack. She did a pirouette, and gracefully avoided the blow. Without even having time to realize it, Keno''s hands were already on the ground, fashioning a small but lethal projectile. Keno''s aim was not lacking, and the warrior''s size made her a much easier target than she was. Gagaran''s chest was hit squarely, and dirty snow began to fall rapidly from her robe.

    "See, that''s how it''s done," Gagaran''s expression was even more joyful. The stress accumulated over the past few days began to melt away like their weapons. "Ready for round two?"

    "Oh, you are impossible," Lakyus commented. "Let''s not draw too much attention, or else..." But she did not finish the sentence. Their leader''s beautiful golden hair met cold, and then the shining braids became acquainted with white. One of the twins had hit her, before a reaction could even be mounted.

    "Distraction on the battlefield can prove lethal," a warning that encapsulated the great experience of entire generations of professional killers.

    "The true warrior is one who expects the unexpected, and acts accordingly." Wisdom, in that case, could even be said to be doubled.

    "Ah, is that so?" The fire in the Blue Rose leader''s expression awoke, and to think that it could end that age of frost would not have been foolish. "Let it not be said that the Blue Rose knows defeat."

    Wars were at times born on a whim. Swift began that conflict, and even swiffer was the rush that led to the swelling of the ranks. Children amassed in the streets found factions to join, and put an end to differences for the sake of one noble goal: victory. Hard-faced orcs joined with graceful moon elves, tiny orcs found shelter behind the more powerful bodies of ogres. Goblins and dwarves hatched plots and created strategies to bridge the unfairness of physical differences.

    Even some parents, who at first had looked at all this in astonishment, had been won over by the joviality and light-heartedness, abandoning that useless decorum for something far more fun.

    The minutes piled up, and light-heartedness began to dominate the atmosphere. In the end, the Blue Rose could have been christened the White Rose, such had been the tragic fate that had befallen them.

    ''Funny,'' thought Keno, before declaring an end to the fighting. "I think it''s enough for today." The traces of red on the cloak still visible were effigies of her victory. ''But the time for fun is over.'' Not that there was much regret in the flow of events.

    That moment alone would not have lost its value for the future.

    The vampire noticed that her companions had also said goodbye to the games, and were back in full adventure gear, ready as ever. The street began to empty, while the lowering sunset remained the only one present to keep them company.

    A shadow moved. "He''s here," Tina popped up behind her... or maybe it was Tia? The twins had given up their traditional hakama and bows in exchange for clothes that drew less attention, and recognizing them was starting to get... not very easy, that was it. Even their signature red and blue outfits had been abandoned, in favor of more mundane, and less eye-catching, hues. The snow in the hair was for sure not a help. "And he''s not alone."

    Some barghests howled at a moon not yet in the sky. Keno noticed something unusual in the now disappearing crowd. Bands of knights were moving from side to side, regrouping and then heading compactly toward the ends of the city. They brought with them some prisoners, whose dejected expressions contrasted even more with the shining silver with which the knights were covered. The prisoners wore medallions, with unknown symbols around their necks, on display in shame.

    The knights looked around, dividing their attention between the prisoners and their surroundings. Their footsteps were unsteady, and it was as if someone, or something, was following their every slightest movement, as they exchanged whispered words and looks of suspicion.

    But Keno did not have time to think about it too much, that the wolf-like demi-human had approached them.

    The night was penetrating, and the darkness was chased away by lanterns whose flames crackled placidly, giving the snowy streets a warmly secular and unchanging atmosphere.

    "Back already. Did you miss me?" Mairon had a usually cheerful disposition, and tobacco wrapped in simple wrappers that never left his mouth. Yet every time he uttered a word, the only smell that leaked from his breath was a fresh taste of mint. "I''d say not, judging by the way you look," he shot a quick, but not uncaring, glance at each of them, quickly processing the unusual attire of the Blue Rose. "As you can see, I am not alone."

    Attached to his arm, he carried a small, tortoiseshell-faced old man, whose sluggish gait lent credence to the rumors that were asserted about the race to which he was related. The wolfman''s tail flicked from behind, rising and falling in no particular order. The black fur covered in transparent slivers.

    "Who is that? Your contact?" Gagaran asked. Of all of them there in the middle, the woman warrior was certainly the biggest. Mairon''s was close, although his build was far slimmer, but to look straight into each other''s eyes Keno''s companion always needed to lower her head a few inches. "Would he be our future guide? This sweet old man does not seem fit for that purpose, if I am being frank. Not that I mean to be offensive to you, esteemed stranger." The warrior-woman treated new encounters as tavern brawls, respecting the interlocutor, and always keeping her fists within reach of her possible opponent''s face.

    Officially, Mairon''s task was to find a guide who could find them safe passage to the capital. Or, at least, a safe means to get there.

    "This is a great opportunity, my dear friend," he emphasized on that last word. "I have here with me something far more precious," the glossy black fur on his muzzle was moved by a gasp caused by satisfaction. The wolfman... L''aran, had an affable smile. "Isn''t that right, old friend?"

    The turtle man raised his head, slowly, very slowly, and then nodded just as quickly. In all, a whole minute had passed. Or that had been Keno''s perception.

    "He is not of many words. A habit which, I am aware, would be far more beneficial to the likes of a personality like mine. But it doesn''t matter now," Mairon inhaled with that cheap cigarette of his, exhaling little clouds of smoke the same color as his fur. Keno was more grateful than usual for the mask she wore. "What is important is the fact that you will be glad to share with us, won''t you, old friend?"

    The vampire was already tired of what would be said to be a scene destined to repeat itself one too many times. As she counted the seconds ticking by in her mind, the newcomer''s fingers twinkled with a purple light. "Did you buy his help?" She asked Mairon. "Didn''t I beg you to be a little more discreet with these things?"

    The aran stomped the cigarette he had finished smoking on the ground.

    Lakyus gave him a disapproving look, and with her all the few inhabitants who passed by at that moment. Fortunately, the people of Sorsilia were used to minding their own business. Whether this was a good thing was hard to say, but at that moment it seemed like a godsend from heaven.

    "Do I look like a vulgar merchant?" The grimace of disappointment hinted at ivory-white fangs. It didn''t take too much imagination to see those teeth tearing through the toughest flesh with ease. "Trade is for those who intend to establish relationships based on distrust. I, on the other hand, prefer far more ... friendly approach." There was a fire, in his eyes. A fire that foretold doom. "No, my dear. What I offer are gifts, nothing I ask in return. What I receive is given to me only as a gesture of courtesy. Nothing more."

    He made a small bow, bringing his head down to the level of the guest he had brought. Keno, and she was sure she was not the only one of her companions thinking this at that precise instant, had the impression that he intended to take one bite out of him. Instead, he only whispered something in his ear.

    ''That''s too suspicious,'' Keno considered. But had not Lord Suveria told them to trust him? Wasn''t the wisdom of dragons well known? Or was it perhaps his intention to use Keno and the blue roses to assay the commonwealth''s intentions? ''In the end, having had a comrade in common does not make us friends,'' the little vampire found herself admitting.

    A sentiment that, after a quick glance given to Lakyus, was easy to recognize as understood among all the women in their little company.

    ''But we are already on the ballet floor at this point. We just have to dance.'' In another life, Keno had shown clumsy movements on more than one occasion, celebratory or festive. In another life, she would have continued to provoke her father''s thunderous, hearty laughter and her mother''s gentle rebukes. ''In this life, however, I could not choose and reject any of that.''

    She noticed that Mairon was staring at her, scornfully. He held out his hand to her. "A penny for your thoughts. Don''t you trust me?"

    "Should I?" Keno asked, accepting it.

    "You''d be a fool to do so," he wasn''t lying, at least about that. They started walking toward their room, reserved in a small guesthouse off the beaten path and well away from prying eyes. Gagaran made herself the old turtle''s escort, exchanging more than a courtesy gesture with him. The warrior had the unique ability to make herself as loved in daily life as she had to make herself feared on the battlefield, no matter what race she belonged to.

    "This is not the first time she has dealt with non-humans," Lakyus commented. The young leader had a seemingly serene, and worry-free expression. It was a sign, to Keno, that something was wrong. "I think there were many, from where she came from. Or maybe they were simple magical beasts..." The leader of the Blue Rose drummed her thumb on her chin, trying to remember.

    "More likely the latter," Keno said. "She comes from the mountains near the Draconic Kingdom, right? There, relations with other races are quite strained."

    "Yes, I think so." Lakyus said, her blue eyes fixed on her sister -that''s what she called her comrades- behind her. "In the end, we know a lot less about each other than we''d like to."

    "It doesn''t matter how much we know. The thorns of a rose are always there, even if covered by the petals. Yet, running the risk of pricking ourselves, we hold them in our hands to smell their fragrance." To savor the sweetness, one had to be prepared to reckon with the bitterness. Perhaps a foolish idea, out of time. Keno was sure that such reasoning had prompted Rigrit to give the team that name when she had founded it in a fit of curiosity.

    Re-Estize had been Rigrit''s land when it still had another name. And the woman had intended to protect it, even when she could no more. Even when the kingdom had changed its name and customs, and was no longer the image of what she had tried, and probably failed, to protect.

    Keno, by contrast... But she did not regret her decision.

    "Granny would have agreed with you," Gagaran had heard them, and she had assumed the same easygoing smile that colored her cheeks whenever she noticed being the center of attention. "We roses wither to shield, and lend a hand to anyone in need. Don''t fret, little one. No one is here against their will."

    The twins patrolled ahead of them, occasionally tapping their feet just right at a different pace from the gait they had been acquitting themselves of, or exchanging trivial phrases of circumstance to give each other directions.

    "You humans are curious," Mairon said. He had detached himself from Keno, and started to open the door of the inn where they were staying. "You are at the bottom of the food chain, yet you act as if the top is a thing known to you. Unable to stay in your place, heedless of any consequences, one would almost say that you harbor veneration for pain and bask in suffering."

    "The human spirit rhymes with contradictions," Keno replied unfazed. She did not know whether she should feel called upon. Part of her refused to be pigeonholed, another desperately yearned for it. "I do not claim to be a master of Commonwealth history, but blood and tenacity have inked your pages as well. The differences only highlight the commonalities."

    The aran appeared to be on the verge to start a counter-argue, and in opening his mouth, the vampire could not help but notice that a bottomless pit might have been what connected the head to the rest of the body. "Perhaps you are right," he found himself saying in the end. "Not that it matters. We have more important things to think about, don''t we? You guys need to find your old missing friend and I... need to find a way to negotiate a ceasefire with this hellhole." The current situation of the Commonwealth was nebulous, but as far as Keno could tell, the opening of a further front with the Witch King would have placed far too many strains on the alliance pact between various nations that made it up. "If only I could have a few more resources. What an ungrateful life..." the medals on Mairon''s spangle were beginning to lose sparkle.

    The first thing they did once they entered the room was to make the old turtle-man sit on a chair. Nothing special, but adequately sturdy and comfortable.

    The second was to light a small cooker in the kitchen of the room. The fixtures were showing signs of time, and the frost was starting to become an unwelcome guest.

    "Start telling us everything you know... now that I think about it, we don''t even know your name," Lakyus reflected.

    The turtle-man looked around, and for a moment it was safe to assume that he didn''t even know where he was, yet Mairon was reassuring enough, with just a smile, a grin, to dispel his doubts.

    "Thingol," he said, after a long pause. His voice was low, but with an almost musical tenderness. "Thingol is my name, fair maidens." The ring he wore emitted a small purple glow, and his wrinkle-covered skin took on a silky softness, as if that warmth turned back the clock to his youth.

    "Pleased to meet you, Thingol," Lakyus spoke for them all. Even the twins offered a sweet grape juice to gladden his throat. Keno continued to remain aloof, casting suspicious glances at Mairon.

    The aran was quick to catch them, and quicker to reciprocate with gestures of reassurance. He wasn''t smoking, yet it was as if his face was shrouded in a mist that made it difficult to outline the contours.

    "I''d say we can begin," Mairon pulled something out of his jacket pocket. A copper watch, whose hands stood still. "This will prevent unwanted ears from listening in." He pressed a button, and the hands began to move. "Ten minutes, that will have to do." The walls began to be enveloped in a very thin, colorless layer.

    ''Concealment magic in such a device?'' Questions began to crop up in the vampire''s mind. ''Should it be possible? Perhaps it is the material from which it was made? Doesn''t seem like iron, or steel. Adamantium, perhaps? What other wonders does our comrade conceal from us?'' Equally numerous were the answers Keno wished she could have provided. Priorities, unfortunately, demanded otherwise.

    "It was a long time ago," Thingol began to recount, not waiting to be urged further. His pitch became unexpectedly quick and unhesitating. "Our previous emperor was a wise man, loved and well-liked by his subjects. Pharazon, the Fourth of his name, of the Malakar dynasty that has ruled these lands for centuries. The crown of the three stars had never had such a deserving ruler, and never had a more loved and, at the same time, respected man sat on the throne. From him and his bride, two beautiful children were born. Advising the royal family, the great dragon of the east ensured prosperity that we believed was eternal. Friendship and brotherhood were a normal thing here, unlike the rest of the outside world. Some even thought of renaming Sorsilia the Dragon Empire, in his honor. Although I always preferred its original designation: Empire of the Stars."

    "He must be Lord Suveria''s old friend," commented Keno. For now, everything corresponded to the summary information they had received from the Council of Argland and those small fragments they had managed to gather in Sorsilia. "Please, continue."

    "Ah, of course. You see, not everything was obviously a paradise as one might think. The cloud giants living in the mountains surrounding the west borders continued to give us battle, as they had done relentlessly over the years. A conflict originating from the time of the first emperor and founder. A grudge that never subsided. Skirmishes without meaning, but which demanded a price to be paid in lives every year."

    "I can understand the plight," Lakyus'' head lowered, and for a feeble moment Keno had the impression that regret had taken control of her leader. "Having to bury one''s dead is always a sad business, no matter what importance it has for the reason of state."

    "A bitter truth, sweet lady," Thingol''s lips closed. To open again, it took them a few seconds. "When he ascended the throne, the first action our emperor took was demands for a peace agreement, for such was the wish of Pharazon Malakar. The emissaries returned bringing only negative answers. That was expected, but not for that it was happy tidings. Then it was the turn of the search for a compromise, some might have said that our emperor was ready to bow his head in order to put an end to the matter once and for all, and they might have been right, perchance. But even that would have been a small price to pay, compared to having our beautiful, white snow continue to be stained with the blood of winter."

    "A leader knows when it is time to put the welfare of his subjects before pride," Gagaran said with conviction. "To hell with absurd appearances and customs."

    "But a leader must also know how to appear strong, so that enemies are not ready to take advantage of him," Keno continued. Old tutors and endless lessons were resurfacing clear in her mind. "I can imagine how that ended."

    Thingol shook his head. "On the second refusal, it was time for war. I can still hear the bells heralding the great punitive expedition, intended to put an end to the conflict once and for all. We sounded the trumpets, that time. And we sounded the drums. And we made the steel sing, hoping we would hear the last song. The only one against it was the dragon of the east. Alas, only that time his words were not heeded. Thousands set out, towards the snowy mountains where the palaces of heaven lie."

    "And how many returned?" Tina asked. Keno could already imagine the answer.

    "Few, very few," if sadness had a precise tone of voice, it would certainly have been that. "We won the war, and the last lord of the storm was made subject. The crown of stars proved too powerful even for the mighty giants. But the price to pay was not small. Even the first prince was among the dispersed, leaving the Empire without a direct heir."

    "Weren''t there two, of heirs?"

    "A prince, and a princess," the old demi-human''s voice became gravelly. "One left this world without an heir, the other gave birth to a little child, fragile and ethereal as the night itself, beautiful and eternal as the moonlight, bearer of the blood of the first emperor. It was the first and only time the princess had ever waited for an heir, but all the luck seemed to be concentrated in the birth of that little miracle. M¨ªriel was named, an ancient name whose meaning is found in what remains of the first emperor''s language, of which only a few shards now remain. Jewel-daughter, if I am not mistaken. For her birth on a par with a treasure was considered."

    "A decided line of succession, then... or was it uncertain?" Lakyus'' question was influenced by history. Although not impossible, in Re-Estize it was difficult for the throne to pass to a woman, it didn''t matter how suitable she was.

    "The people had no doubts, nor did Pharazon. Or, at least, these were the sentiments in the open," Thingol replied. "The child was blood of his blood, loved by the officials for her intellect, and by the lowborn for her generosity. I was both, and I came to know each side of the medal." The pride with which he concealed his frailty broke, for that instant. "Her birth at the height of the war was seen as a sign of something new and renewed. She was... She is the direct heir to the throne of the stars."

    "Why the hesitation, old man?" Keno inquired. That was the crucial node, where they could begin their work. "Because something has happened, or now we will not be here."

    The old demi-human scratched his head, rocking back in his chair. "Yes...," he said at last, his voice again faint and falling. Until a few moments before he had seemed full of vitality, crackling with an energy that gave comfort with mere presence. "It happened... a few years ago. Two. Maybe three." Now, there was a melancholy that captured the chill of winter in his tone. Old age was an ugly beast, the only curse one could not escape. "The night the stars fell, the night the entire capital knew ruin, such as it had never known in centuries."

    "What happened?" Gagaran placed a blanket on Thingol''s shoulders, realizing he was shivering. An affectionate gesture, but perhaps unnecessary. It was not the climate that had provoked that reaction.

    "Undead," that word was enough to bring a black cloud down over the room. Keno pricked up her ears. "The entire capital became the scene of an epidemic of the undead. No one was able to save themselves. Almost no one. Pharazon and his family, by all accounts, could not escape. Not even the Dragon of the East, some claim, escaped the disaster. I was away on a routine assignment in this very city. Something unimportant, fit for old bones like mine," he paused, or rather broke down, overwhelmed by something impossible to bear. "I have not set foot in the capital since. My beloved Elenion, with its snow-white marble and snow-capped spires." Little groans, which normally would have been the object of pity.

    But for that, at the moment, there was no space.

    "Wait... wait," Keno burst out. She was grateful for the cloak, which hid her clenched fists. "Are you really saying that, overnight, an entire capital city, made up of the most disparate races, with magical defenses and every other possible security measure, guarded by a dragonlord, fell victim to such a curse?" She was harried, almost as if she had traveled entire mountain ranges in the space of a few hours. Her breathing became heavy, and the taste of vomit, long unknown, became strangely familiar in her mouth.

    Lakyus placed a hand on her shoulder, without adding anything else, to calm her down. Gagaran and the twins looked at her with a gaze they had never laid on her before. For Keno, however, only one thing existed at that moment.

    "It seems hard to believe, but it is so," Mairon, who had remained silent until that instant, promptly exclaimed. "It is the same news reported by our informants. An entire city full of life, which becomes a source of death after a simple snap of the fingers. Hard to believe, and yet... But someone was spared, were they not, my friend?"

    Thingol hesitated. "M¨ªriel... The princess and last heir was still there, waiting alone. Trapped among specters and ghosts, with only bones to keep her company. "

    Keno was on the verge of laughter. ''History is destined to repeat itself. But he... he is supposed to be dead.'' "And then, what happened? How could the princess avoid such a fate?" It was the only thing she managed to ask.

    The demi-human looked around confused. Was he still conscious, or was it the vampire who was out of that world? The vision was beginning to blur, and her mind clouded. "There was chaos. The nobility was divided, between those who tried to retake the capital, and the crown of stars with it, and those who announced the end of the Malakar dynasty. What was that but a sign that the stars had abandoned their support for those who had ruled us for so long? Years of war and division, between those who for so long had finally known a semblance of tranquility."

    "And it was at that moment that the Witch King appeared," Mairon continued for him. "You see, my dear ladies. One of our protectorates, not a few leagues away from the borders with Sorsilia, was attacked by one of the self-styled new emperors. Nothing consolidates one''s rule but a good military victory. A classic example taken from the good despot''s handbook. The protectorate was small, and defenseless, but there was a treaty ensuring peace with Sorsilia, and we had no doubt that old Pharazon was a man of his word. Such gentlemen, unfortunately, are rare to find."

    "Yes... I believe that was the case," Thingol fiddled with the ring between his fingers. "You must excuse me, but the crux of old age is to remember events of years gone by with sharpness, and to confuse what one had for breakfast."

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    "How did the Witch King appear?" Tina''s impassive expression was a jigsaw enigma missing a piece.

    "It''s not every day a being like that appears out of nowhere." Tia shared her sister''s puzzlement.

    Keno''s eyes pointed at Mairon. The aran shrugged his shoulders. "Who knows," there was... a particular way the wolf-man dealt with the matter. "The contingent we sent routed the usurper, and we thought we could get into the capital to see what was going on. And lo and behold, out of nowhere, this enigmatic figure appears, wiping out a quarter of our army, causing the remainder to flee in utter terror. The crown of the three stars had already been claimed by this mysterious figure, and with it his immense power." One could almost have said that he was reporting events in which he himself had been a participant.

    "Did your golems also take part in the conflict?" The vampire was highly curious to test what their new comrade''s response would be.

    Mairon''s mouth fangs took it as an invitation to show themselves. "I see that you are many informed, even in remote corners of these lands." Then, in the same manner as uninvited guests, they retreated to their perch, in the dark. "No, our golems were busy with another... operation. Nothing to do with our current mission." He assumed a friendly smile.

    Thingol nodded. "In any case," he resumed. "The Witch King followed the triumph with blood. All the numerous pretenders were exterminated, or subdued. The latter event¡­ was far more rare." The ring continued to glow, with a violet light that calmed all spirits. The shadows on the walls looked as if they were in a frenzy. "It was he who discovered Princess M¨¬riel in the capital, trapped there for who knows how long, organizing a private wedding ceremony in great secrecy. At the very thought, my heart aches." And it was true, for the contempt that oozed from his eyes was untainted by lies.

    "So he legitimized his claim to the throne, but are you sure the princess is all right?" The question seemed to have struck Lakyus deep down. The hero saving the princess locked in the tower was a classic in swashbuckling stories.

    But Keno knew that stories were such for a reason.

    "On that I can answer," Mairon said. "At least once a week the princess shows herself to the new officials, specially chosen from the remaining noble families. The capital has been cleansed, and new immigrants come from everywhere to bring it back to the old population. Although... you may have noticed that talking about the new regime is not very... wise."

    "So the new emperor has been accepted," despite her words, Gagaran did not sound very convinced. "There''s still a lot that''s not clear to me, and trying to put the pieces back together seems like a big headache." Normally, a fat laugh would have followed that statement. This time, there was only a dejected sigh. "First of all, I don''t understand the question of religions. Judging from the abandoned churches we noticed on our travels, there was a certain pluralism of ideas. Now, however, the mere idea of a different faith seems to terrify them."

    Keno thought back to the horsemen they had seen earlier in the square, and the prisoners they brought with them. ''Chains with arcane symbols. Perhaps... priests of an old cult?'' Gagaran was right. ''But more than anything, what is the Witch King''s connection to the blasphemous sinner? Tsa, Riku... that it''s not over yet?''

    "Me, I don''t think I can help you much on that," Thingol said, heartbroken. "As you said, in private one is still allowed to exercise one''s faith. But proselytizing and participating in public life... are strictly forbidden. That is all I know, and all the other inhabitants probably wouldn''t be able to tell you more."

    "Don''t speak. They hide in whispers..." Lakyus'' shadow grew strangely larger than normal. "Are they here?" She looked around, and Keno noticed that the fingers had moved dangerously close to Kilineraim.

    Only the seven of them. And their shadows. No one else.

    "Wraiths..." Tia''s body was struck with a tremor. "Clerical magic drives them away..." Tina followed her sister, as she always did.

    Keno wondered if this was the key to the answer. In the room, the shadows remained impassive. Not even the wind was blowing. The stove fire was beginning to die out, leaving only gray ash.

    "We''re done here," Mairon closed his pocket watch. The walls returned to normal. "I will take Thingol back home, and prepare some supplies. We leave tomorrow morning at dawn." Staying in one place for too long could be risky. "I hope this informative story has eased your concerns. There is no turning back from here."

    "Be careful," Keno warned. "You don''t know what''s lurking out there."

    "The shadows, my dear." He closed the door, taking Thingol with him. "It''s always the shadows."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Franklin, City State Alliance

    The lounge was packed with guests.

    In the background was soothing and pleasant music, enough to relax the spirit but not annoying enough to disturb the thoughts. The notes glided on the piano, in a rhythm that followed a defined circle.

    The armchair in which Antilene was sitting was so comfortable that the prospect of getting up already exhausted her.

    "Would you like something to drink, honored guest?" There were so many waiters. At least one for each pair of guests, so it was natural that one would approach her as well. "Compliments of our master."

    "What do you have to offer?" Antilene listlessly analyzed the tray, holding back a yawn. She had slept enough on the arrival journey, but such was the calmness of that hotel that closing her eyes a second time, and perhaps a third, was damn tempting. "I''d appreciate something strong, now that I think better of it. Something to keep you wide awake."

    The waiter, a man in his thirties with a look devoid of any distinguishing features, approached the tray towards her, pointing to some of the glasses that sat on it. "Devil''s Fire is an excellent choice. It is a whiskey aged for almost a century in the oak barrels of the former Emperor of Baharuth; with its strong alcohol content, it is in its refined and demanding taste that its qualities lie. The previous emperor of Baharuth offered it to his guests, to taste their nobility, for only those with blue blood running through their veins could truly appreciate it."

    "An amusing anecdote, I wonder if it is also true." But she would have bet not. There were more effective methods of controlling someone''s blood.

    "Alternatively," the waiter continued undaunted, "we have the Knight''s Tears. A velvety brandy, with a slight infusion of tamarind, made from the produce of the Queen of Ris''s vineyards. It boasts the appreciation of the famous Dark Knight of the Thirteen Heroes, and it is believed that it was the famous champion himself who came up with the recipe, going so far as to be moved even the half-demon once he tasted it for the first time, such was its intensity. Only a second time did such an event occur in history. Many were those who were moved to tears after just one taste."

    "Let''s go for the second option," Antilene grabbed her glass before the waiter could serve her. The man, unaccustomed to such celerity, found himself stunned for a few moments, but was nonetheless diligent in handing her a napkin. "You are dismissed. And point out that I have been waiting a long time. I would appreciate being received as soon as possible."

    The waiter lowered his head, and walked away, disappearing into the throng, not giving the half-elf time to even bring the glass to her lips.

    As she sipped, noting with great displeasure that her eyes had remained dry, Antilene considered how different the atmosphere was compared to the city she had recently left, Karnasus.

    People laughed light-heartedly, and exchanged pleasantries with equal ease. One wondered whether they were unaware of the war that was brewing, once again, even more furiously, only a few kilometers away from them, or whether they were well aware of it, and had simply decided to live in happiness today, to leave worries to tomorrow.

    Amongst the various activities taking place, for there were many and varied ways in which the staff did their utmost to avoid the absurd and absolutely inconceivable disaster that would be leaving their guests unentertained for even a moment, the half-elf was drawn to a young painter. A dwarf with a thick beard, whose brush colors had spilled absent-mindedly through his hair, giving his face a clownish appearance, was intent on tracing the lines that painted a young woman of evident high lineage, who giggled after each of his brushstrokes.

    The panel was finished in no time, to be handed over to the one who had lent herself as a model. There were bows to each other, and just as quickly the two parted, not after the girl had slipped a few silver coins into the artist''s lusty hands. The dwarf began to look around, probably, or rather, Antilene was sure, in search of a new muse, and paying customer.

    Eventually, he approached her.

    "Allow me to introduce myself," he said. "I have the good fortune to be Peseudonio Auristogima, of the free cities of East Gait. Madam, I will be frank, your beauty is dazzling," there were no accents or inflections in the way he spoke, yet to the half-elf his expression had something alien about it. "I noticed that you were giving quick and curious glances at my work. Let me try to pay homage to such a divine loveliness with a demonstration of my skills," the dwarf lowered himself so low that he could have called the floor his lover, so close were his lips to it. "A couple of silver coins, enough to pay for the paints and canvas, and a few minutes of your time, nothing more I ask. The price is almost a humiliation for me and my peers, yet it would be a very good deal, of that I am sure. For me, especially."

    Antilene gave him a look devoid of any consideration. She finished her drink, calmly. "I don''t wish for my image to... spread easily, to put it frankly. And besides, I''m afraid I don''t have enough time to model for such high aspirations." In fact, part of her couldn''t help but be flattered by such a proposal. Duty, however, was not married to pleasure, and vanity was a fickle mistress. Easy to please, hard to forsake. "I''m afraid you''ll have to find another inspiration for your next masterpiece, maestro." She tried to have a consoling, calm tone, just enough so that hers was not mistaken for impertinence.

    "On the first point, you have nothing to fear. Not only will I produce a single copy, which will be delivered into your hands, but the style I am spokesperson for is far from mere superficial portraits. I paint the essence, or at least that is what I like to believe. What the eyes and body hide, and the soul reveals, this I try to portray." In ambition, at least, he was very big. "As for time and modeling, I just need to draw a few intermediate lines, to serve as a skeleton for the work. It won''t take more than a few minutes. Once the work is done, I will send it to an address of your preference.."

    The dwarf could be persuasive, and the lack of activity was beginning to make waiting annoying for Antilene.

    "Alright, but only a few minutes," the half-elf stood up, finding herself more numb than she had imagined. "And I want the only original," she approached him, towering over him. "If you lie, I will know." The half-elf''s lips joined in a straight line, with the brandy still permeating them. A drop fell to the ground, in tune with the melody the piano continued to compose.

    "...Certainly," for both of them, the opportunity to repent had passed. "If you wish to follow me." He led her to a secluded corner of the lounge.

    Now that she could look around more clearly, Antilene glimpsed other painters painting for guests. That part of the hall was certainly reserved for such activity, and the feeling that she had only been prey to greedy proselytizing, in insight not very convincing, made its way into the half-elf''s mind.

    ''But now I have accepted... I certainly can''t back out.'' The stool on which she sat was quite comfortable, Antilene noted. The pose she assumed was natural enough, she thought. ''Hands on your legs, and looking to the right... I think that''s the position indicated.'' Experience dictated uncertainty, and the references she could rely on were scattered but nebulous.

    The books that had constituted her studies had brought back images from time to time, but nothing that could give her a clear idea of what her role in all that must have been. The stories she used to read, on the other hand, much preferred to leave room for the imagination, justifying with poetic license those rare illustrations that, rather than reality, looked to idealized renditions of the heroes and their deeds.

    "Perfect. Stay like that for just a little longer," Peseudonius traced quickly, leaving Antilene''s doubts in the air. "We''re almost done... just a little more."

    No one was paying attention to them. Indeed, there was no doubt that someone was merely aware of their existence at that moment. Yet... yet for Antilene that was certainly a feeling that overflowed from the ordinary. To be the protagonist of one''s own story, at that moment, was a truth that became overwhelmingly concrete.

    When she had killed her father and exacted her revenge, she had put an end to the tale, starting with what should have been the end. Then, events had gone as if backwards, to fill in those aspects that seemed to be missing.

    The princess had been courted by the prince, had rid the city of monsters, and now found her beauty celebrated by artists and poets.

    ''A pattern, woven out of endless events, reproducing as many designs. Beginning, unfolding, conclusion. Mixed together, the conclusion has already been presented, and the unfolding seems only a new beginning.'' A story, in the end, remained just a story. ''When I slay the Equestrian King, that too will herald a new rebirth. Or perhaps it will be I who will fall, thereby marking the end of the tale.'' The prospect caused her no displeasure, unexpectedly. Was that what it meant to be at peace with oneself? ''To be small, and weak, is not as bad as you might think.''

    Antilene was calm. She had closed her eyelids, and the soothing stillness of the darkness almost made her feel like she was floating on that sea.

    "Your Excellency Fouche?" An unfamiliar voice distracted her from her musings. An elf addressed her with such solemnity and respect, playing with bowing, reverence and celebration, that Antilene thought she had entered an unfamiliar dream. "My master is ready to receive you. If you will do me the courtesy of following me, I will lead you to him immediately."

    "Yes," the half-elf rose, and turned to the dwarf. "Master, are we done here?"

    "I have enough material," he replied. "One week, not much longer, and I will have it delivered."

    Antilene approached and handed a handful of silver coins into the pouch he carried at his side. "Do a good job, and take your time. I will wait for it at the royal palace of Karnasus." Then, she turned on her heel and followed the newcomer, glancing fleetingly at the artist''s shocked expression.

    The elf, fair-skinned like moonlight, proved to be of few words, fortunately for them both. He led her diligently towards a spiral staircase, which stretched for dozens of floors, connected to a corridor on which a long red carpet stretched. The walls were bare, but every now and then a sculpture, usually with female features, could be seen enlivening the ambience that little bit.

    When they arrived, the half-elf was sure they were in the highest part of the hotel.

    "Please take a seat," the elf opened the door to what must have been a particularly important study. Of papers and documents, the shelves were full. At the sides, a few doors connected to other rooms indicated that it was only a small part of the whole. "My master awaits you." A faint scent of lavender tickled Antilene''s nose.

    "Thank you very much," she took just a few steps, before coming face to face with the one who was waiting for her.

    Sitting at a large desk, intent on writing and writing on a large pile of papers, an old man, skinny like a pin, raised his head the moment he saw her coming. "Lady Fouche, is it?" He immediately stopped what he was doing, but continued to keep a firm grip on the griffon feather he still had dipped in ink. "It is a great honor to make your acquaintance. Although we have met before, I don''t think you will remember. Let me introduce myself: Philo Orestes, current first merchant of the Franklin merchant''s guild, and council member of the executive assembly of our beloved city."

    "I don''t think I recall, to my regret," said the half-elf. "Memory has never been my pride and joy."

    The merchant squared her, almost as if she had been a delivered commodity, to be valued and priced. "I had the pleasure of seeing the show of strength you made against Satrap Tiribazus," he smoothed his long black goatee, the last leathery remnant of black in a thick patch of hair that had long since lost all other color. "Frankly, I never thought I''d see that puffball reduced like that, a... delightful spectacle. Of course, at the time I considered it pure and simple madness."

    "One man''s folly is another man''s wisdom, or so many say," and those many were Antilene. "Have you changed your mind? Or do you still think that continuing the conflict with the Equestrian King is foolhardy?"

    Philo continued to look at her, but there was something akin to indifference this time in his gaze. That, or something else. Something far more visceral, masked as emptiness. "I am not a warrior. Armies, battles, glory. These are concepts I prefer to leave to others. And it is a belief I share with many of my peers. Every situation that comes before me is approached with a simple, single question, the cornerstone of my future: ''what do I have to gain from this''? War is a risky business, very profitable at first, but more dangerous with every passing second. I am a simple person; I play to win. The taste of the challenge is important up to a point. When I invest, I also have to know in advance the best time to stop."

    "Then is it a game for you?" A risky philosophy, no doubt. A fitting reward would have been the conclusion of it. "But it is not a solitary pastime, yours. The consequences affect many."

    When he smiled, the merchant relaxed every muscle in his face, taking on an unexpectedly benevolent air. "You are a queen, if I am not mistaken. The forest of Evasha, I have heard of it. Forgive my frankness, but I have never held great regard for that territory."

    ''That makes two of us.'' "One has to be a great lover of nature to appreciate its lush greenery," Antilene said. "It is not rich in gold or silver, but in trees and fruit."

    "I have no trouble believing that," but what lay behind his eyes proclaimed otherwise. "In any case, as queen you should know the grave responsibilities that are placed upon a leader. Countless depend on you and your decisions. Likewise, my employees prosper when I prosper, and the wealth I accumulate is not meant to be stored, but redistributed and circulated. Tell me, is it not better for a man to continue his duty and realize his aspirations through work, and not by giving up his life on a battlefield?"

    When someone knew he was in the right, he was ready to defend his ideas tooth and nail. When he was in the wrong, the difference was hard to notice.

    "Perhaps," Antilene let her soft breath mirror her state of mind. "What did the Equestrian King offer you?"

    Philo pulled out some cigars from the desk. "A near monopoly on New Orcleans carrots. I''ve been trying to grab those delicacies for years, with little result. The magic formula with which the soils are cultivated gives outsized beneficial effects to horses, but Franklin''s guild of magicians has never been able to reproduce the same effects. I could sell them in exorbitant quantities to the nobles of the Empire and Re-Estize." He lit one of the cigars, slowly beginning to gasp. He offered another to Antilene.

    The half-elf accepted. The taste of the smoke was not to her taste, but it delighted her to produce gray circles in the air, for how childish it was.

    "And, I take it given my presence here, that you did not accept." As to how that concession had been promised, there was not much to investigate. "Prince Alexander relies heavily on your help. Orcleans is siding with the Equestrian King, in all but name. As I understand it, should Franklin also decide to turn against Karnasus, the war will be definitely lost."

    Heavy smoker, that Philo. He had only coughed once, but the ashtray was already starting to fill up. "Words and promises are very nice when they are made, but of little use when they do not take form. Not even a magical contract, sealed with curses and counter-curses, could change the factual reality. As long as New Orcleans is free, so will be my allegiance," which hinted that a timer had been placed on his cooperation. A directness that made it easy to bargain with him. "Now, until a few weeks ago I would have gladly taken the risks, knowing full well that these were minimal. And so would many other guilds, not only in Franklin. Can you blame me, perchance? The Union had lost battle after battle, the city renowned for military strength had fallen, and only Ris still seemed able to mount adequate resistance. But alone... not even that old hag could have done much."

    The worst thing? There was only truth in his words. A powerful medium for one''s arguments. Hard to disprove, even harder to counter.

    "And what changed your mind, may I ask?"

    "Is there any need to?" The man felt almost offended by that question. "You, Lady Fouche." Nevertheless, he replied amused, crushing what was left of the cigar, very little, against the ashtray.

    "Your praise is certainly appreciated," yet, for the half-elf, so sincere did sound his praises as was perceptible their hollowness. "But I believe there has been an overestimation. My contribution has been modest, of little account. A part, a very small part, of the valor with which the heroes of Karnasus were soaked. Have you read Prince Alexander''s proclamation? Well, I can assure you that everything went exactly as therein declared."

    Philo drummed his thumb, erratically. Small noises, almost imperceptible, but the absence of a rhythm, of a structure, were irritation and nuisance to Antilene''s ear. When one was aware that something was missing, no matter how insignificant, a natural reaction was to search for it, to restore it to its natural wholeness.

    "I read it, yes. And let me say that I have my doubts about the veracity of those events. Professional bias, if you please. Until I assess the goods with my own eyes, I am disinclined to trust." Of the first cigar, only ash remained. Of the second that had been taken, fate would soon be the same. "One thing I do know though," how much sweat could pivot on a man''s forehead? Antilene could get an idea of what was the maximum reachable, at that moment. "From the moment you entered, Lady Fouche, I could feel my insides twisting, and a blade pointed at my neck. In the other rooms, there are at least a dozen personal guards, carefully chosen for their long years of service and usefulness to me over the years. And, in addition, you are unarmed."

    "Are you trying to threaten me?" Antilene had not yet finished smoking, but even that had grown tiresome to her. The cigar, still half whole, was extinguished, and became a pastime for her fingers. "Words are wind, and the wind is inclined to change direction. Where do you think it will blow soon?"

    "Mercy, no," hastily assured the trader. He laughed, to reassure himself. He laughed, to try to reassure her. "If they are as good as I think they are, every single soldier in my service will have resigned at least a few minutes ago, leaving only dust and equipment as the last pledge of their loyalty." When he saw that the half-elf shared his good mood, he appeased his spirit. "I said I don''t involve myself in battles, but that doesn''t mean I don''t have my share of experiences. I have sponsored many champions in Union sports games, and I like to believe that I have trained my eye to recognise talent."

    "And you think I have the makings of a champion?" Antilene asked curiously. "I have had the pleasure of watching Sir Niles and his team at work, and I regret to say that my skills do not even compare to theirs."

    "Niles, a great warrior," agreed Philo. "But¡­ As I like to pretend, I keep risks to a minimum. I would stake my entire fortune on you, even if the minotaur were to be covered in the Union''s greatest treasures, and you were to be armed only with that half-burnt cigar."

    "Too kind."

    "It''s not about goodness. There is a reason I specifically requested your presence here at my proposal to Prince Alexander, my lady." Philo clapped his hands, and the elf who had acted as chaperone, and who had been waiting behind the door in the corridor, entered gracefully. "It is time. Go and fetch what I have told you."

    "Will you be safe, here alone, my lord?" The elf was a fountain of worry. Antilene smiled at him, but could not calm his agitation.

    "Do as I told you," Philo blurted out. There was no need to repeat anything else. "Not that your presence could change much." There was no need to say more, the elf had already rushed off.

    "He is a very devoted servant," Antilene noted. "You must be pleased. Even though there is nothing for you to fear, he was ready to make sure you were safe."

    "He is devoted to my money," Philo replied with conviction. "As I explained to you earlier, the coinage guarantees loyalty. The bonds of honor and chivalry are wonderful, but unreliable. Golden ones, of real gold I mean, are perhaps shabbier, but much more effective. One of the methods I most trust to bind me to others."

    "And the others?"

    "By blood, of course. But it doesn''t surprise me that you didn''t think about it." Philo had finished smoking, and his demeanor had resumed a semblance of decency. "I have done my research, Lady Fouche. Your origins can be traced to the Theocracy of Slaine, if I am not mistaken. A great place, I''m told. Full of wonders to be discovered. Wonders like you."

    "There are worse places in the world, I guess," replied Antilene, with unexpected, for her, good humor. "But I assure you that I am nothing compared to the magnificent cathedrals of Silksuntecks or the natural views of the six mountains surrounding the capital. And although I have never been there, I have heard that the Bay of the Gods lives up to its name in terms of spectacle. And the temples of the paladins in the south, or the tournaments of the holy knights of the faith in the east..." Funny, the more she spoke, the more the half-elf became aware that there was much she had only heard about, and had not seen with her own eyes. Instinctively, she felt like touching her ears, only to encounter thick layers of hair. ''Something is missing.'' But she couldn''t figure out what.

    "Of that, I have no doubt. I have had the pleasure of trading with some of your countrymen, and extolling the praises of your homeland is a gift I can see you have in common," small, black eyes, which did not let anything out, watched Antilene. "But that was not what I was referring to. Secrets, how many are you hiding? What have you hidden in those sky-defying cathedrals? Are the clouds a suitable place to hide your treasures?"

    "Knowledge is power," said Antilene. Once upon a time, there was nothing, then came light, and fire. Greed followed close behind. "That which is concealed, is left far from the gaze of those who cannot understand. My existence was a secret. A blasphemy, and a miracle. Of wonderful things, bringing light where there was darkness, and giving meaning to tragedy, I have seen many. The blood with which I have been stained has not soiled my blade, nor have the moon and the sun stopped moving at my will. The Theocracy is my home, Evasha my origin. Nevertheless, the Union is where I now find myself standing. Look at me, and tell me," she approached him, so that they could meet eyes. "What do you see?"

    Philo''s dry lips trembled. Saliva and hesitation wet their flesh. "Nothing. I see nothing." For there was nothing to see.

    "I''m just a girl, like so many others you might find, going down the streets." It didn''t matter how tender, how exquisite... a lie remained a lie. And what falsehoods could not change, neither would she.

    "It''s a shame..." The merchant was a man who had everything. For such a kind, nothingness was not contemplated. Breathing in, the bones of his ribcage showed off, giving his body an even more fragile air. "We could do so much, together. There is nothing worse than those who do not exploit their potential."

    "Such is life. You don''t always get what you want." Antilene, however, had reclaimed it. "Right of birth, right of conquest. Meaningless justifications. It''s just luck, in the end."

    There was a knock at the door.

    Philo gave permission to open it.

    The servant returned to the room, accompanied by a knight clad in splendid white armor, enclosed by a blue cloak. A swan on a crystal lake towered over the emblem of his chain mail. At his side, a girl hid shyly, barely reaching to touch her protector''s side.

    "Enter, my dear. Don¡¯t be shy," the girl approached with a graceful step at the invitation of Philo, gracefully raising the hem of the yellow dress she wore. "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Lady Fouche. Eleina is the light of my life and, I hope, will soon be the same for Prince Alexander . Many things I expect from her."

    Even seated, Antilene towered over her. ''A dwarf?¡¯ She asked herself. But the diaphragm of the girl was extremely minute, and the face had not even known the passage of childhood acne, so smooth and perfect was it. Mind you, that of early hair. It was the beard that made the dwarf, or so the saying went. A beardless dwarf was not impossible, but it was not the case of that petite maiden.  ''A halfling, perhaps? What a rarity. But the father...''

    Philo was extremely thin. So much so, that deprived of a few more kilos he would have attracted the attention of all the clerics in the neighborhood, ready to exorcize him on the spot. Without any doubt, however, he was human through and through.

    "Is she really your daughter?" Antilene asked curiously. Eleina drew back, uncomfortable at that question. The knight stepped forward, but added nothing.

    "Not by blood," Philo explained. "But I took her in when she was still in swaddling clothes. You see, my lady, my wife and I were never fortunate enough to have natural children. The gods, probably realizing the great bounty they had bestowed on us in much else, were stingy with such gifts. Perhaps, however, it was a disguised blessing. Eleina is everything a father could wish for."

    "I thank you, father," another bow, more ungainly. Shaking must have been a family custom, if not passed down through blood, handed down according to habit. "I will do my best to meet your expectations, and those of my future spouse." Eleina¡¯s voice was as faint as her body was. That the windows had remained barred was a good fortune, or a sudden gust of wind could have swept her away.

    "I meant no disrespect," Antilene apologized. "I was just amazed. I thought halflings had long since disappeared from this part of the world. If my studies were fruitful, they had a small kingdom bordering the present Draconic Kingdom. Since the beastmen devoured it, in every sense, traces of them have also been lost."

    "Eleina is not from these parts of the world, but I do not intend to bore you, Lady Fouche." Philo looked at her daughter, and everything was in the way he looked at her, except love. Antilene wondered if it was the same way her mother looked at her, a long time ago. "Rather, now that I have had the chance to get to know our new... ally better, I no longer have any doubts as to where my alliance will lie. The marriage will be celebrated soon, and I have therefore to ask you, Lady Fouche, what are you going to do? I had asked for your cooperation, and I find myself confessing that I could never demand anything that you did not wish to do." Pleadingly, but with a certain dignity.

    "You mean about the requested escort?" Prince Alexander had mentioned it as the main reason for that meeting.

    "There will be no need for it," the knight burst out.

    The large helmet disguised his countenance, but did not conceal his thoughts. One of the arms approached the hilt of a sword, the free one reached out to shield the maiden. "My lord, I have sworn to lay down my life in defense of my lady. Do not let a stranger endanger your daughter''s life."

    Eleina blushed. Her freckle-covered cheeks grew even redder, claiming scarlet as her natural hue.

    Her father, on the other hand, remained devoid of emotion, like a corpse. "You are but a hedge knight, Dionegis. Just as I freed you from misery, I can send you back to it." Philo''s voice became unyielding. "You will do as you are ordered, are we clear?"

    The knight remained in his position, but had nothing to counter it. ¡°As my master commands.¡± The steel of his armor creaked, but other signs of protest did not follow.

    "Forgive me for this unfortunate spectacle," the merchant hastened to bow his head. "I hope my subordinate''s impertinence has not offended you, Lady Fouche. Free them from slavery, give them a hot meal and great treasures, but a servant will always remain a servant. Unfortunate."

    "You have no need to worry," once again, Antilene found herself acting as a peacemaker. "He protects what is dear to him, not being afraid of the consequences. Is this not the code that knights are expected to follow?" Philo emitted a snort of approval, unwillingly "Returning to your request, I must in any case return to Karnasus. Riding part of the way with your daughter will certainly not be inconvenient, nor will giving her a watch to prevent unpleasant incidents from occurring."

    "Thank you, Lady Fouche," Eleina''s blonde hair moved with their mistress. A golden gust almost touched the half-elf as the maiden''s devotion reached her "I will do my utmost not to be a burden to you."

    "I am sure you will," Antilene urged her to rise, before she disappeared from her sight. Small as she was, Eleina could vanish only by crouching down. "What are the dangers that make you fear for the safety of your daughter, venerable Orestes? Certainly I have no doubt that it is not only bandits that bring you concern."

    "Certainly not," if shame could have taken human form, that of Philo Orestes would have been the most suitable choice. "I am somewhat embarrassed, but as fierce and passionate as my involvement has been, not all of Franklin''s guilds are of my opinion, regarding this possible alliance. Rivalry is the soul of commerce, and many of my business associates would gladly accept the proposals of the Equestrian King. And not just them... Many other cities harbor traitors ready to discourage this union, by any means available. Orcneas and the magistrate Kostas foremost among them.¡±

    "I had the pleasure of meeting him," the image of the apeman covered in silky robes flashed through her mind, and Antilene couldn''t help but feel a modicum of irritation, as annoyed as she was by it "Why should that monkey care about a possible alliance between Franklin and Karnasus?"

    "Don''t be too hard on the magistrate," there was an unexpected reverence and amiability in Philo''s words. Friendship, even. "Orcneas has been the main port of the Union for years, and a pact with the Great Plains would allow them to cross the Narrow Sea, circumnavigating the great rivers that pass through those territories, and take their trade to the northern and central part of the world, to Sorsilia, to the Federation of Delos, all the way to the center, skimming the borders of the Commonwealth."

    "It''s all about money, in the end." The half-elf was not surprised, but she could not help but be disappointed. "Is that the price of betrayal?"

    "It is always a matter of money, my lady," Philo said, convinced of what he was claiming. "But, in this case, there is even more. Orcneas has always relied on the protection of the Union, and this protection is now fragile. There was a company of sellswords serving the city, the Azure Blades they were called, but they were exterminated in the early stages of the war. And if their navy is still strong, I fear the Equestrian King''s invasion will not come from the sea. Don''t be too hard on magistrate Kostas. Orcneas has also lost much from the war. The Brave himself, brotherly friend of Prince Alexander, was originally captain of the Azure Blades. He and his twin were rumored to be descendants of the sea princess'' famous crystal warriors, but now they too are dead."

    The argument was convincing, but not for that reason could Antilene say she was persuaded. "I''ll let the Union deal with possible internal disagreements. Are you afraid they might engage someone in particular?"

    "... Ijaniya," the knight replied. "We suspect that they have requested the services of Ijaniya." He had removed his helmet, revealing a young face, partly covered by thick silver hair. Large violet eyes rested on the half-elf, peering into the unknown. "Is this perhaps a problem for you?"

    Antilene raised her hands. "Baharuth''s famous guild of assassins. It might be more interesting than I think. But I hear their services are very expensive. How could our mysterious enemies have hired them?" The economic situation of the Union cities, after long years of war, should have been tested. And even Antilene knew how much a job well done would cost.

    This time, it was Philo who spoke. "The Equestrian King still has a lot of resources." An insinuation did not constitute a well-founded accusation, but it was not for that reason bereft of implications. "I am afraid of what might happen. As a further precaution, I have arranged for my daughter and I to separate during the journey, so as to confuse any assailants."

    ''And to keep your hide safe,'' cynicism contaminated Antilene''s mind, like a devious poison. ''If your daughter should die on the journey, what have you been promised? No. Do you intend to test me, old man? You never bet on the loser, do you? Better men than you have already tried, I am afraid...''

    The half-elf began to make her way towards the exit. She laid a hand on Eleina''s shoulder. Never had she truly understood how large her palm could be. "You will have nothing to fear, for I will be there."

    The young girl began to shake, but tried to stand firm. "I know." The knight protecting her stopped, taking her gently by the hands.

    "It is time to go, my lady," he said, and there was a natural tenderness in his tone. "Lady Fouche, if I have been abrupt, it is because my lady''s life is more important to me than anything in this world." A sincere apology, though soured by a pride tyrannized by youth. Unexpectedly, Eleina did not blush, but thanked her protector with a sincere, and crystal-clear smile. "I beg you to excuse my rudeness.But I will be frank in admitting that I would have no problem repeating this regrettable behavior, should my lady be offended, in any way. "

    "Having someone, or something, to protect is very important," of this, Antilene was of unyielding conviction. "I could never hold a grudge against those who put their own safety and reputation at risk, just for the sake of others. You have nothing to excuse. Protect me too, during the journey."

    "I will," Dionegis replied with conviction. "My vigil will be less exhausting, knowing that you are with us."

    "Lady Fouche, I hope we can become friends," Eleina said. The girl''s clear eyes were like dazzling gems, which could move even the hardest of hearts to emotion. Prince Alexander had been lucky.

    ''And one man''s luck could be another''s misfortune,'' Antilene found herself considering, looking at the swan knight. "We shall become such," the half-elf promised, leaving those considerations to herself. "Indeed, I would say we are already well on our way." They shared a short laugh, a seed that might germinate into something more, one day. "Venerable Orestes, I count on seeing you at the wedding."

    "I look forward to nothing more. I know my expectations will not be disappointed." Philo was already back in the thick of his work, perhaps realizing that he had neglected it far too much. The tip of the griffon feather began to darken. "Dionegis will pick you up around dawn."

    "He will find me ready."

    Antilene took her leave, returning to the lounge. It had partly emptied, and moonlight quietly leaked through the large windows. The music had stopped, and only the few remaining guests whispered unknown words, almost like an invocation to the star in the sky.

    Looking up to the moon, Antilene had the feeling that she was being watched. She remained alone, in her night.

 Chapter 49: Rotten apple

    Chapter 49

    Rotten apple

    Union Cities State Alliance

    Antilene tightened her garb, dark as the deepest night, adjusting the foulard she wore around her neck: the only note of white in that penetrating uniformity.

    The cloudless sky, in which the feeble sun''s rays were free to descend upon the battered earth by the coming winter, was the only view that could be considered worthy of admiration. The never-ending wind had shed its shyness, and blew with the confidence of a lord in his own castle, moving through the air, carrying its cold touch wherever it passed, withering leaves and causing the green to lose its dominance.

    "We will soon arrive in Veneria, my lady," Dionegis'' voice was ringing and high-pitched, piercing in its confidence. Opening the carriage window, only his chest covered in that silver that defied the stars in brilliance managed to be the focus of Antilene and Eleina''s attention. "Please grit your teeth a little longer, my lady, unless you intend to stop for a rest. In that case, I will arrange for the convoy to halt immediately."

    The road they were traveling on was unexpectedly well-maintained, but the stony ground covered with the first snows and hailstones of winter was still an unpleasant hindrance to the wheels of their convoy, at best. At worst, a great way to have their heads presented to the ceiling, in a fashion that completely lacked gallantry.

    "You have nothing to worry about, my dear knight," said the halfling, melodious voice as exquisite as the Sunday bells. "I could never be a nuisance to those who do so much for me. Bearing it is not burdensome at all." How graceful Elaina was when she lied. The future princess''s skin was not as impenetrable as Antilene''s, nor could it withstand the blows and jolts of the journey with as little effort. Still, the half-elf was ready to swear that between the two of them, the girl least felt the discomfort of the voyage. "Rather, make sure that our servants are in excellent condition, and that they are not suffering the fatigue of the journey. Have they been well fed? Have they had something to drink? Of what to cover themselves from the cold?These are the questions you should be raising."

    "They will endure what they must endure," replied the knight, firmly. Compassion was the relinquishment of his knighthood order, one might have ventured. "They live to serve, first and foremost. To serve you and House Orestes."

    "They live to survive. Everyone has a role, but they must be given the opportunity to exercise it to the best of their ability, don''t you think so?" Small but firm, Elaina''s voice could have belonged to a giant in a blind man''s ears. "I implore you, my good knight. Do as I have asked."

    "As my lady wishes." The swan knight moved away, at his mistress''s command. The trot of his horse an echo that soon became distant.

    Antilene could hear impish questions of apprehension, from inside the cabin. Imperious, and so delightfully out of place. Like a rooster among dragons. But a morning song provided no flames.

    "Fast, the swan knight," she commented, facing the halfling. "Having someone hanging on your every word must be pleasant, I imagine. If you were to ask such a heap of self-denial to slit his own throat, he would beg you to specify the depth to be cut." In the Theocracy there were many like him. Swords who lived to be of use and to perish following commands. A rare and fading quality, and therefore worthy of admiration and respect when one was the object of such a spirit of sacrifice. It could also be very irritating when observed from afar, that had to be said.

    "My faithful Dionegis is as devoted as he is, alas, harsh. With others, very. With himself, immeasurably so." And here the girl who was to become princess, and perhaps queen, clutched at the blanket that wrapped around her shoulders. The feathers that warmed the neck belonged to majestic griffins, in a not so distant past, and the patterns that drew emblems of royalty on the fabric enhanced the value of the garment.

    One of her attendants, shadows moving with her every breath, and augurs of the future to sear her desires, handed Eleina a steaming thermos, from which boiling coffee warmed the bones with its aroma alone. "I thank you." The halfling lost herself in that soothing heat, and in the scent that delighted the nose and mind. "My swan knight, always at my side. Dionegis was an orphan, Lady Fouche. Skilled with the blade, only the crest of a lost lineage as heirloom, left to rot in the slums of a distant land. He was found by a friend of my honorable father, and sold for a small sum. A chick covered in pitch and mud. But my beloved father''s intuition was right. In a little while, the chick matured and the swan who was birthed made a name for himself in the tournaments held in the arenas of Franklin, and should have competed in the national competitions as well, had the war not broken out in full before he could realize his dream." Sharing the pain and regrets helped in part to understand others, but it also left room for unnecessary sentiment. Elaina excelled in both those bad habits.

    "All he will have to do is wait, and he will be able to prove himself," Antilene thought back to Sir Niles and his band of champions. To the immense bodies of the demi-humans who had competed and won the cheers of the crowds in the arena, with the blood and glory that had bathed their bodies, molded their features. Would the crystal swan bathe its wings in red, or would it shatter into a thousand pieces as the crystal on his chest? "When the war is over, the competitions will soon begin again. Conflict is abhorred when carried out by strangers, just as it is adored when organized in the household. Your knight and his lance will be smashed on the texts of your enemies, sooner or later. Then, you will truly know his worth."

    "Do you really believe the war will end soon, Lady Fouche?" There were great expectations, in that child. For such she was when compared to the half-elf. "Even before it broke out, I remember the apprehension towards our borders, towards our future. Ever since I can remember it, my caretakers used to warn me to prepare myself, for peace is never lasting, but something to be earned day by day."

    Antilene found herself with pleading, hopeful eyes staring at her. Eyes calling for answers, which she could not give, only suggest. And Antilene felt old, as never before she had been.

    "This marriage will bring stability, and the Union will be able to rise again, after tasting defeat. If you are wise, humiliation and loss will guide you for the future. If not, you will be doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past. The Equestrian King is weak, now more than ever. Prince Alexander will reclaim the Union and his allies, and will fight as long as he has breath in the body. I will ensure that there are no obstacles to triumph."

    "Then I will be able to calm my heart knowing that you are there to defend me," Elaina''s laugh was weak, but sincere. She did not encompass everything with her roar, nor did she dictate all attention with her fervor, but shared the good humor with everyone, as if it were an experience that knew no solitude. "You have met Prince Alexander, have you not? My groom-to-be... Forgive the effrontery, but could you describe him to me? I would like to... I wish I knew as much as I could about him. To make a good impression, and prevent him from having second thoughts."

    "He won''t have any, rest assured." Of certainties, there were few in the world. But if the prince wanted to win, the compromise was a must. ''She is just a child,'' Antilene considered. ''I cannot say for certain about the body, but the spirit is still that of spring.'' "The prince will find you lovely, my dear Elaina. And if he does not... it will be his loss, certainly not yours."

    Elaina''s head tilted slowly, lightly stroking her shoulder. "You are a fantastic flatterer, Lady Fouche." She reciprocated the kindness received with a sweet smile, as good manners dictated. "I admit I am a little bit excited, you must have been able to tell."

    "It is hardly noticeable." An erupting volcano, that face. With frost starting to descend, almost a natural shield. "Is there any particular reason that causes you turmoil?" Antilene complimented herself, as her ability to make conversation was getting better and better. Indulging in one''s disappointments had a beneficial effect, from time to time.

    Of the two attendants, one peered at the half-elf. She was a woman with reddish hair adorned by orange streaks, bewitching as the descending dawn, encased in a modest cap. "Prince Alexander has always been an enigmatic personality. My lady is partly fascinated, partly afraid of him. No wonder that her emotions are in upheaval."

    "Quiet, Kilmestra," interrupted the other one. Raven-haired and a plump face, with hands that always tended to caress and console their mistress. They bore a vague resemblance to Nazaire''s, although they lacked decision and firmness. Elaina accepted their caresses, finding comfort in them. "We cannot speak for and on behalf of Lady Orestes. Remember your place."

    "You are right, Thekla," Kilmestra''s eyes, also red, shone for a second. "I ask forgiveness from both of you. I have been foolish."

    "No need to apologize," reassured the half-elf, rubbing her cheek with the right hand. The glove she wore caressed her skin, giving her the sensation of being tickled by soft silk.

    The halfling also comforted the woman, placing the little forehead on her chest. It was an intimate gesture, hinting at a bond that overlooked rank. "How could I ever bear a grudge against the one who raised and educated me?" She let Kilmestra smooth her hair, and fix her unruly ringlets. "I have been fortunate, for I have had many mothers, Lady Fouche. My attendant speaks the truth. From as long as I can remember, my honorable father made me aware of my destiny. To reinforce the proclamations of the Orestes family, and unite in marriage with a great family, to bring prosperity to our legacy. My siblings and I were raised for this. To become princes and princesses."

    ''Nothing binds more than blood,'' Philo Orestes had proclaimed. But that was not entirely accurate. Gratitude could go so far, the deeper it went. If not more.

    "I thought your father had no children beyond you," said the half-elf. "Or perhaps I was mistaken?"

    "My honorable father had no natural children. But perhaps because of this very deficiency he was generous enough to adopt numerous orphans like me. Eleven, we were in all. All of different races and kinds, in the spirit of the Union. Of these, three contracted marriage to powerful Franklin families, two were sent in marriage to noble families of East and West Gait, one currently serves on the war council of General Chazos..." the voice became faint, and ethereal. "...The others died during the war."

    "I grieve for the tragedy."

    "It''s alright," the halfling tried to brace herself. Antilene saw her attendants huddle closer to their mistress, obscuring her with their figures. "I was the youngest, and the last one left. But the time has also come for me to leave the nest. Though I never imagined I would marry the very heir of Karnasus. The fear of such a task is overcome, I feel a little ashamed to admit, by the sheer pride of such a privilege."

    The perfect image of the girl lost in romantic tales and bardly fantasies, where sighs of love were songs and kisses of passion words, which made her no different to many other maidens of every standing not only in the Union, but in the whole world. Yet the trembling of her lips did not disappear, but became more and more pronounced, each time they opened to show that perceived happiness.

    "Your servant said that Prince Alexander was a difficult personality to scrutinize. May I ask why?" The one she had met was certainly a man shrouded in secrets, but at least his mask was covered in candor and valor, manufactured or unvarnished.

    "Those were just rumors," the dark-haired attendant, Thekla, nodded at her mistress'' answer. Kilmestra began peeling an apple as yellow as gold, cutting it into many small pieces. "When I was still an infant, the prince seldom left his abode. His father was said to be a just man, but also ruthless, carrying the blood of the ancient dynasty that once ruled the Union and entangled in blasphemous rituals. Or so his opponents proclaimed. They would swear that he had betrayed his queen, to lie with a demon, the last remnant of the infernal king who brought so much devastation to these lands. From that union was born an aberrant and deformed son."

    "Prince Alexander!" Antilene let out a mocking laugh, thinking back to the proud young man with sea-coloured hair, and the scent of saltiness emanating from each of his heroic deeds. "Forgive me, but except for too much air in his body, I don''t think your future groom has any physical problems. And for sure no demon blood runs in his veins."

    Elaina tasted the fruit that was offered to her by Kilmestra, offering a wedge to the half-elf, who accepted with good taste. "I am glad," she said, after calmly savoring the rich sweetness of the apple. "When he went down to war to oppose the Equestrian King, every evil tongue had to put away its venom. A hero, who replicated the deeds of the first men. So I was told. I shall have to endeavor, to remain worthy to stand by his side."

    "It''s not about being worthy," said Antilene. "It''s more... difficult to explain. I am not an expert in matrimonial matters, but in the country I come from it is traditional for couples to take an oath together, so that they can stand as equals before the Gods. Husband and wife are two sides of the same coin, one incomplete without the other." A pact to be respected, to be celebrated. If there was anything sacred in that world, it was that.

    "Thank you very much for the words of comfort, Lady Fouche," the freckles on her face twitched, along with the lips that unfolded to her sparkling eyes. "I hope that one day our positions will be reversed, and I will be the one to repay that debt by offering sage advice."

    "There is nothing to repay. And I doubt I will marry in the near future."

    "Did no gentleman ask for your hand? I find that hard to believe."

    "Someone has..." Jircniv Rune Farlord El-Nix was the most recent example, but there had been many daredevils in the Black Scriptures over the years, convinced that they were different from those who had preceded them. "But I made a pact with myself. I will only unite with the one who can beat me."

    "The paladins of the Roble kingdom make oaths to hold their principles firm and increase their magical abilities, as far as I have heard," Elaina''s curiosity was unexpectedly overwhelming, embellished by that childish adoration for the bearers of justice. Of her attendants, Kilmestra restrained herself to maintain dignity, Thekla sighed, partly defeated, partly amused. "Is this perhaps the secret of your strength? The higher the price you pay, the more fantastic the results you achieve."

    "I''m afraid those are just baseless stories," Antilene found herself forced to cut those reveries short. While there was truth in the sacred oaths, and of the rituals that accompanied the ascent to the rank of paladin, the spirit of sacrifice and martyrdom opened at most one door. To continue down the steps, training and talent were the only tyrant masters. "There are no secrets in my strength. Nor is it something special. Your swan knight would be able to unseat me with no problem, should we compete in a friendly contest."

    The art of persuasion, unfortunately, had not bestowed its gifts on the half-elf, who could see how poor the results of her arguments had been. To not be taken lightly could also prove to be a curse, and an inconvenience .

    "Oh, what a pity." The halfling rubbed her hands, beaten by restless shivers. The temperature was beginning to drop, and each breath became more consistent, more visible. Was it the soul asking to come out? A foolish consideration.

    Kilmestra handed a pair of dark blue gloves to her lady. "Don''t you have anything to protect you from the cold?" Elaina asked the attendant, after thanking her.

    "Where I come from, weather like this is ordinary," she replied, adjusting her lady''s cape that was starting to stick out slightly. "I''ll be able to endure it without any trouble."

    "Oh¡­ I didn''t know this¡­"

    The other lady-in-waiting, on the other hand, was of the opposite opinion, and after making sure her mistress was well protected, she began to pull scarves and hats, all strictly knitted, out of one of the luggage with which to strenuously cope with the season that was becoming more and more relentless.

    "It''s good not to catch a cold, in this weather you never know." Antilene, too, found her head covered in wool. She could have explained that there was no problem for her, but keeping silent was deemed preferable in such a situation.

    There were two people in the world whom Antilene was sure she would never be able to overpower, or win a discussion against. And Thekla, at that moment, looked tremendously like one of them. Nostalgia could be remarkably merciless, the half-elf had to consider.

    Eventually, even the snow began to fall. The flakes, which all resembled each other, at least made the view outside the window less monotonous. It continued for a few minutes before there was an abrupt stop. Antilene, who was beginning to be distracted and lulled by the quiet, took a few fractions of a second to process what was happening.

    Her first instinctive reaction was to check that Elaina and the two ladies were safe. "Are you all right?" To maintain calm in others, it was imperative to maintain it with oneself. A few shouts could be heard outside the cabin. Devilish imprecations and snarls, which if to the ears of a veteran of a thousand battles sounded like home, to those of helpless maidens could only be compared to the blissful monstrosities of the gloomiest hell.

    "All is well," the halfling was visibly shaken, but tried to appear in control of the situation. The grip with which she was leaning on Kilmestra and Thekla might have been betrayed otherwise, but in that situation Antilene did not see it as an expression of weakness, but more as a natural reaction. "What happened?"

    Kilmestra tried to get the helmsman''s attention, but there was no response. Only silence.

    "Stay here," Antilene intimated. Charon''s Guidance had already been unsheathed, and the cabin was open. A sudden mist had descended, hiding the surroundings from view. The half-elf stepped forward, not moving away from the carriage. The boot sank into the snow, causing some to slip between Antilene''s feet.

    The shouting had ceased, but that was not necessarily a good sign. Something could be discerned amidst all that white. Antilene reached out, touching that indistinct heap. It was cold.

    ''A corpse¡­ They attacked us.'' She could not recognise him. It was hard to tell, partly covered in snow, partly with his face eaten off, who he was. It was certainly not Dionegis, as his emblem was not stamped on the chain mail. ''An enemy, or a friend?''

    From the open cabin, Elaina looked around. Perhaps thinking she could spot something that might help.

    "There''s nothing to worry about," Antilene tried to reassure her by waving her arm, convincing herself that she had succeeded. "It''s just a bit of fog. If there are enemies, they hide because they know they can''t do anything else."

    Elaina nodded. Then her mouth opened, almost to utter a shriek, except that nothing came out.

    The wind, placid and quiet until then, gusted in a whirlwind. Something took shape from Antilene''s shadow, and cold and stinging, it was the silver that caressed her throat.

    "The demon''s head announces a new dawn," someone whispered in her ear. The blade was sweet and gentle in its carving, and found in breaking its predetermined end.

    A sweet sound, made of shattered expectations.

    The half-elf''s throat remained diaphanous, and her head turned to meet the demonic mask of her assailant. Two sharp bull-like horns, metallic eyes, and a leering mouth, that was the appearance of the assassin. Covered entirely in white, like a demon of winter, he tried to break free from a grip that was now firm.

    Antilene spun him around with calm gentless, and laid him with opposing ferocity on the snowy ground. The assassin tried to rise, but her foot was already firmly on his chest, blocking all movement. Further wriggling was soon established useless on both sides.

    "Who are you?" She asked.

    "...The owl failed."

    But the query was lost in the vacuum. The breathing was lost.

    The half-elf pulled off his mask, finding a determined face taunting her, one eye missing. "A poison capsule." Such determination required relentless training. Of all things, it was the promptness with which that difficult decision had been made that was worthy of praise.

    "Lady Fouche, are you all right?" Elaina was a bundle of nerves, now exposed, attached to her two escorts with such eagerness and trembling, in an image that brought to mind a misconception. "That blade that touched your neck... I couldn''t see clearly, but it didn''t get you?"

    Antilene ran the finger of her right hand over where she had been struck. "No wound, as you can see. Rather, I am concerned for your safety." Charon''s Guidance had not yet proclaimed first blood, but the Spartiate could have established a defensive perimeter in no time. The reluctance to summon the undead was of little consequence compared to the girl''s security.

    As she was about to begin the summoning, the half-elf heard someone approaching.

    "My lady, are you all right?" Dionegis ran like a madman as the fog finally began to recede. He was on horseback, but the poor beast brayed in pain, and overtook his master in wounds. "I rode as fast as I could... Lady Fouche, did they attack you?"

    The assassin''s corpse was still lying there, as if it had been resting in place.

    "Give yourself peace, knight. Your lady is well. For the moment."

    Dionegis took a second, but really just a second, to regain his composure. The helmet had been partly broken, and he jolted indifferently from the saddle to which it had been attached. His white hair imitated the same thing it was now descending upon them, with scarlet streaks littering his curls. The purple eyes, previously piercing, strained to remain alert. The crystal swan, his emblem, had known impurity, staining its feathers with fetid entrails, giving the impression that the graceful creature had turned into a rancid beast.

    "Gods be thanked," he dismounted from the saddle, still breathing heavily, the steed trudging just to stay upright. He knelt before the carriage, sinking into the white compact. "My lady, forgive your servant for endangering you."

    The halfling, as if awakened from a foul nightmare, leaned out far enough to rest a hand on the faithful knight''s shoulder, but also far enough to remain firmly on the carriage seat. "Don''t worry about me," the hesitation betrayed what she wanted to express. Politeness and good manners were a shield that did not let fear show. "The important thing is that we''re both safe. Tell me," the voice attempted to be firm and confident, but sounded only pleading and seeking comfort, "what happened?"

    Meanwhile, Antilene had approached the horse, whose flank was furrowed with numerous wounds, bites mostly. Her healing abilities could ease the suffering of the body, but an animal, like a human, also knew the wounds in the soul. By the time the view was restored, the remaining members of the escort were finally able to gather in the presence of the one they were supposed to protect.

    If when they had left the half-elf had counted more than two dozen guards, attendants and adventurers keeping watch over that convoy, now not even less than half could be counted in that grim count.

    The swan knight noticed them, but continued to focus his attention on his mistress. "Beasts on par with wolves barred our way, but their faces were not of this world, with tusks that butchered armor and meat with exaggerated ease, while their breath was ice freezing mind and body. They were larger and more ferocious than normal, and drove the horses mad, sparking the clash just as quickly," this, at least, explained the bites. "They forced us to stop. The blood began to flow and the dead to pile up."

    "You had no news of attacks by such creatures?" It was customary, and right modus operandi, to back-check the routes to be pursued before a journey, so that one could be prepared for any attack, and not be taken by surprise. Or such was the way of thinking in the Theocracy. That it was different in that part of the world, however, could hardly be called probable, in the opinion of the half-elf. "Snow wolves are usually found in the mountain range of Azerlisia, but in these altitudes it could have been some wild dog breed, perhaps hardened and mutated by the cold." Having a sample to study and examine might have proved easy to narrow down, but even then luck did not seem to help. Only their now-dead companions in the assault still left some scattered traces in the surroundings. Which meant...

    "They were not dogs or wolves," the knight hastened to correct her. Dionegis had pulled out his sword, a splendid work of steel with threads of pure, brilliant blue orichalc, still smeared with the blood of beasts... and something else, in all likelihood. "When I sliced the creatures, they disappeared, dissolving in the snow. I had studied the latest travelogs of the merchants and guides traveling from Franklin to Veneria with a fine-tooth comb, and at best it would have been fair to expect an ambush by snow goblins or some tribe of lynx-men infesting the mountains nearby. There were, far rarer, reports of giant caribous and white-mane tigers, but never a whole pack like in this case. The other adventurers can bear witness to what I say."

    Of the survivors, some of them confirmed what Dionegis had said. None of them was lying, of this Antilene was certain.

    "Sir Dionegis is right," one of them hastened to say. From the silver medal he wore on his chest, it was easy to guess his occupation. "But it wasn''t just the beasts that were the problem. In the middle of the fight some assassins came out of the shadows and started attacking us. If it wasn''t for the swan knight, prompt and precise to regroup and give orders, we''d all be dead by now."

    There were a few wounded, many in serious condition. The prospect of what would have happened if things had gone differently loomed like a dark cloud over every head.

    "You didn''t use scrying?" There were a few magic casters among the survivors. Again Antilene found herself wondering if it was incompetence or lack of skill that was the problem to be addressed.

    "Yes," another adventurer, holding the dying body of a companion in her arms.A female dogman, with a muzzle full of smears. This time a gold medallion glimpsed between the folds of her belt. "I took care of it myself. Every ten minutes we took turns to check the area. But, well... it was useless." And, judging by the dejected way she embraced the lifeless body, the task would soon become more onerous.

    "Tier?"

    "Second."

    "I see."

    Of all the Black Scriptures, Astrologer was the one she missed the most. Divination was not among Antilene''s arts, and the more time passed, the more the half-elf became aware that, occasionally, brute force was not enough. Stabbing one''s own problems was not always a good solution, unfortunately.

    The half-elf waited until the count of the fallen could be finished, and then asked the swan knight: "How far is it to Veneria?" If things got complicated, she would be forced to take a central role in the expedition.

    "Half a day," Dionegis replied, wiping the blood from his hair. The dirt was gone only in appearance, but the liquid continued to soak into the skin, making his face dirty and more hardened than it really was. "Do you think they might attack us again?"

    "Hard to say, but they know we''re ready now. And they too have suffered their losses." The assassin sent towards Elaina was almost certainly the most skilled of the troop. Antilene approached the corpse again, pulling off the mask that still rested on half of his face. "Do you recognise it?"

    "I don''t think so," and like the swan knight, so too followed the other survivors. "It must be Ijaniya. The other assailants also wore similar disguises, resembling grotesque demons. Who else could it have been?"

    "...Once we''re in the city I''ll get in touch with some of my contacts," if anyone could identify the cult''s killers, it was certainly the archivists of the Theocracy''s cathedrals. "But if any of you should have noticed anything unusual, please say so now."

    The silence was not unexpected, but no less of a disappointment nevertheless.

    "Lady Fouche, is there anything I can do to help?" Elaina had gotten out of the carriage, and was moving circumspectly, getting too close for the half-elf''s liking. "This standing still while others risk their lives for me drives me mad."

    "My lady..." Kilmestra was careful to check every shadow that stirred. The sun was back high in the sky, and seemed almost to taunt them with its renewed light. "...Perhaps we should get back on the road as soon as possible. We don''t know what might still await us on the way out."

    Antilene peered at the halfling, without uttering a sound. In stressful situations, individuals showed their true natures, and the curiosity to find out what lurked inside the future princess was quite tantalizing.

    ''''...I know,'''' Elaina''s conviction was less predictable than it might have appeared. Covered as she was, only a keen eye could have discerned the body still moving in spasms of terror, and not the wool being moved by the wind. "But I want to make sure the rest of the escorting staff can continue."

    "They have been paid to take you as far as Karnasus, and they will do so as long as they have breath in their bodies," Dionegis retorted. The knight always tried to address his mistress with a certain gentleness, but this time the tone that came out of his mouth was filled with contempt. More towards himself than towards others, Antilene surmised. "We will bury the dead, and move on."

    "Dionegis, you serve me, right?"

    The knight, taken aback by that question, could not find the strength to answer.

    "Then you will do as I say." Repetitions were not allowed. Even the two ladies-in-waiting could say no more.

    "A leader must take care of his subordinates. It''s only natural," Antilene smiled in approval. "Do what you must do, Lady Orestes. I will take care of your protection." The seal of that proclamation was imposed by the half-elf, who challenged someone to question her. Predictably, no one dared. Not even the swan knight.

    Elaina then approached the rest of those who had fought for her. Of the wounded there were many, both among the animals and the men, and of those who could still continue to move with ease many fewer.

    Of casters capable of providing healing support there were only a couple, but at least of potions they seemed well stocked. On the other hand, injuries could be alleviated very little with the meager means at their disposal. Commendable was the total lack of gasps of pain, for the most part.

    "Is there anything I can do for you? Do you still require rest?" Elaina wandered around the small camp that had been improvised on the roadside at the moment. If she couldn''t offer any concrete means of help, her presence was at least a good morale boost.

    "No, my lady." Every negative answer, no matter how absurd it was to witness, was more of a pain for her than for the others.

    Dionegis continued, impatiently drumming with his leg on the now increasingly red snow, continuing to look around.

    The more useless he became, the more his frustration grew, the more the sheath of his sword swung, begging to be wielded once more. To have something to prove, under all circumstances... What a miserable fate.

    "...Perhaps it would be appropriate to..." more than once Antilene heard him mutter some suggestion that died back where it had started, leaving the swan knight sullen, and perhaps resentful. "To hell with it..." He began to help finish the pits and assist the only priest there with them to anoint and bless the bodies, lest they might return as lifeless.

    To the surprise of the half-elf, Dionegis had a chain around his neck to which was attached a small bottle from where tiny drops of water were sprayed, evidently blessed.

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    ''He really was ready for anything.'' Yet it had not been enough. Whether that lesson would be used as treasure was now for him alone to decide.

    "Their condition is critical, my lady." The adventuress from before, the one in charge of divination, had shown Elaina two male companions clinging tenaciously to a stretched out throng to lay them down. They emitted broken, hushed sounds, which but for the tomblike silence would have been lost in the breeze. Their eyes continued to remain open, because they were aware that to close them again would have taken too high a price to pay. "Miron had part of his arm devoured by one of the creatures, and his hand severed by the knife of one of the killers. Still, compared to Illias he fared much better."

    Indeed, while the former still managed to retain semblance of a whole that distinguished him as a living being, the latter could not boast as much luck.

    Part of his face had been bitten off, leaving bones exposed. An arm had been removed up to the elbow, with remnants of flesh still dangling inert and attached by some sort of miracle. Still better than the second, which had been completely severed, and lay stripped bare next to him. There were also numerous scars on his chest.

    Potions were smeared over the two, but they managed to stem the damage, and the pain, only briefly, before the wounds began to open again.

    Antilene did not acknowledge them as worthy of pity.

    "We fear it is a curse," one of the adventurers explained. "Or a poison. The weapons of those cursed killers must have been enchanted to make the wounds harder to heal."

    Antilene felt her neck, sensing nothing unusual.

    "Is there any chance of them being saved?" The halfling kept her gaze fixed on the two, eyes forcing themselves to remain open. "What have you tried to keep them alive?"

    "Not many," the female adventurer stepped forward, impassive, or so she wanted to show herself. "And even if they were to succeed, every attempt to heal them just results in nothing... Perhaps we could keep them alive until we arrive at the city, and find someone better equipped. But I doubt they could continue the journey... or resume their profession."

    "What is your name?" Elaina asked her.

    "Filio," the adventurer''s eyes, a simple hazel brown, moistened, but remained steady. "They were my comrades... sorry to get emotional. I am aware that it is unprofessional."

    Antilene took a step. Although the doubt of being able to do anything concrete, and the unwillingness to actually provide for the salvation of impurity, were discouraging arguments to act. Astonishment found her face, finding that Elaina did not give her the opportunity.

    "I''m afraid we must leave them here, Filio."

    It was easy to get a feel for people, even after knowing them for a short time. A fragile idea, which could break with just as much fragility, as had happened at that moment.

    The future princess maintained the simple soft expression, but there was an impassivity and coldness that took even the half elf by surprise.

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "I''m afraid we should leave them here, Filo." The second time, the inflection did not become more severe nor did it increase in pitch. It continued to be simple, with a hint of regret that gave the impression that the halfling''s heart was recoiling at those words. Yet she continued undaunted. "Look at them, even if they were saved, what life could they possibly have? Lady Fouche, you are more experienced than me... could they be saved?"

    Feeling called into question, the half elf replied, "Perhaps with a fourth tier magic it might be possible. But the curse there might provoke undesirable effects if that issue is not resolved first. And a failed attempt¡­ could do more harm than good. Also, there is the risk of it spreading." Were they in the Theocracy, this problem would not have been impossible to solve. But the Union was not the Theocracy.

    "Did you hear Lady Fouche''s words?" The halfling had placed a hand on the adventuress'' shoulder, but the difference in height was so abysmal that it forced her to stand up on her toes, with more comical rather than reassuring results. "Leave them here. They would slow us down too much. Tell me, did they have families?"

    Filio hesitated, her lips beginning to be covered in spit. "...Miron had a younger brother, as I recall. Illias'' parents are very old, and they needed his assistance."

    "My father can be generous to those who have served well. The brother and parents will survive, at least. But if my loving father were to learn that they caused us delay, it would make him furious and unforgiving. What remains of a soldier if he can no longer fight? A shell, which has lost its purpose in the world." Eleina sought the gaze of Thekla, and then of Kilmestra. But it was in Dionegis approaching, that she found comfort. "Tell me, my trusty knight. Will the families of these two be rewarded for their services?"

    "As much as their sacrifice has demanded. But should they place a halt to our duty, for whatever reason, the contract would be considered terminated, at which point what becomes of them would be for fate alone to decide. They would only receive part of the payment, at best. If they manage to survive..." The swan rider placed a wet cloth on their foreheads, undaunted by the fur that was beginning to soil him. As if in trance, he recited a few words of comfort that no one, except perhaps the derelicts, could hear. "Filio, you may stay and take care of them, if you so wish, or decide to take charge of their transport to the nearest population center," and, amazingly, there was no judgment in Dionegis. Pity, neither. Only regretful sincerity. "In that case, as commander-in-chief, it is my duty to report to you that the payment will be canceled."

    They would gain more from death than they would in life. Filio breathed faintly, taking just enough time to reflect, and then began to move, very gently, the bodies that were growing quieter and quieter. She recited some sort of prayer in their ears, and laid them down in some trees a few meters away from the main road. From the distance, one could almost have thought they were sleeping.

    She returned without looking back, bending down in front of Elaina. "The time for mourning the fallen is over..." The female beastwoman got to her feet. "Their families will get their due, of that I will make sure... my lady."

    "They will get their due," Elaina said. "As will everyone."

    After that, it did not take them long to resume their journey. When they were in the privacy of the cabin, Antilene asked the halfling. "Are you sure of the choice made?" The half-elf could not be certain they would be beyond saving, and in other conditions, she would have done her best to at least make sure their trepanning was as peaceful as possible. Mercy, however, was a limited commodity... one that had to be administered very cautiously, among friend and foe alike. "Excuse my frankness... but I didn''t think you were so..."

    "Ruthless?" Elaina finished for her.

    "...Pragmatic."

    The future princess shifted her head towards her, hugging herself in the blue coat. A few griffon feathers warming the collar gently caressed her chin. "My father taught me from an early age that the paths that open to you are endless, but that once you take one, changing becomes almost impossible. A child can become a knight, a priest, or a merchant. But once that destiny has been followed, he cannot decide to become a blacksmith, or a poet. In pursuit of everything, one runs the risk of becoming nothing. We are so limited..."

    Infinite possibilities, but only one vocation. Only one dream to fulfill, with the hope that it would be the right one. Antilene, in different terms, grasped that familiar concept. "So someone who has been deprived of the means to sustain himself should be abandoned?"

    "It is indeed very sad. But a society stands on the tasks each of us takes on. Only then are we able to help each other. Those two adventurers have fulfilled their obligations... and now the weakest can be safeguarded through their sacrifice. To survive... only to find yourself after a thousand pains to be useless. What a jest. If I were all-powerful, I would have saved them from their pain and suffering, elevating them to something more. But I am just a foolish little girl. I do what I can... and I carry the burden."

    There was no reason to doubt what she claimed. Of curiosity, Antilene had only one to satisfy. "And so what is your task, dear Elaina?"

    There was no need to think, for the girl. "To serve my father, the man who raised me from poverty, and who bestowed upon me a name and an identity..." Her smile was warm and generous, devoid of even remotely negative feelings. Gratitude, rather, was plenty. "To do that, I will have to perfectly rise to my task of being the perfect bride for Prince Alexander or whoever my father deems worthy. That is my role as Orestes."

    "And should you fail to do so?"

    "In that case, I will have no choice but to give up my inheritance, and perish without causing any more trouble."

    Thekla followed her mistress, not giving comfort, but approval; arms locked in a golden embrace that so closely replicated the bars of a wall-less prison.

    Kilmestra continued to comb her hair, putting back in order those gilded strands that so much seemed not to submit, reviving a diamond devoid of light.

    "Elaina... is not a name from these parts," to Antilene, the word slipped on her tongue with familiar remembrance. "It sounds like a variation of a name much in vogue in the Theocracy. Did your father give it to you?"

    "No," the maiden said, nostalgia struggling to leave a face that could know no regret. "It was my mother''s name, my birth mother I mean. When she sold me to my father, it was the only thing she asked to keep. The family that fathered me had its roots west of here, in an age now lost, in the desolate plains that meet at the crossroads in the great human nations, but that time too has passed. The halflings have renounced their rights, and abandoned these places."

    "Is it so then?" The half-elf found no astonishment in herself at hearing that statement. "I suppose, as much as we like to pretend otherwise, our origins affect us in as many ways as possible, without even making us aware of it."

    "What do you mean by that?"

    Antilene smiled, for anything else to do was unknown to her. "No matter how much you shake the tree, the apple will never fall far from it." She did not continue any further, enjoying the doubt that fell on her traveling companion.

    As Elaina was an Orestes, so was Antilene a Fouche... and a Hougan. Whether that meant anything, only time would tell.

    Draconic Kingdom

    Gazef let the scent of sweat run down his body. After hard training, it almost had a balmy effect, and, for those few minutes when his mind was still focused on the sword, he could almost see everything around him slow down, taking their rightful place in the surroundings.

    "You can rest now," the members of his unit were far more fatigued than he was. Three to one, a fight that some would have called unequal. For whom, hard to establish. "Tomorrow morning, Gods be willing, we will do it again." In the training room, the spasms of fatigue were covered by the laughter of camaraderie. It was a pleasant, relaxed atmosphere that gave no impression of the pressure they were under.

    Outside the fortress, however, such ceremonies would certainly not have been the norm. Concentration always had to be brought to bear not on the enemy in front, but on the one who might strike from behind... or from above. Either Gazef would learn to poke his eyes out from behind his back, or he would soon have to learn to live with a body even more battered by cuts and scars.

    "Good training, Captain." Iovino offered him a cloth to dry off in. The warrior felt the rough contact with his skin as his second in command gave orders to the other soldiers, who were eagerly waiting for a chance to test themselves. "Are you sure you don''t want to rest? We have our meeting with General Aderbaal in more or less an hour."

    Gazef considered how long it would take him to take a shower. No more than ten minutes, if he took the time he needed to be alone and with his thoughts. A luxury that seemed to be granted to him more and more rarely. Once taken off the time to put on more appropriate clothes, remained an opportunity for just another confrontation.

    "Send five this time. And let one of them be a magic caster. The other four must specialize in different weapons. Well coordinated, possibly part of the same sub-unit." The muscles throbbed, a delightfully intoxicating sensation. All his men... his soldiers looked at him halfway between admiring and bewildered. "And change my sword. This one has undergone too many enchantments. I want one that''s less blunt."

    There was too much difference in strength with his comrades, as hard as it was to admit. Trying to close that gap was a key priority for the moment.

    His second whistled in disbelief. "Why not take off the armor as well, Captain? Running the risk of being over-protected, don''t you think?"

    Gazef was on the verge of agreeing, before he realized the not too veiled irony. "No, that will do. We must be ready, Iovino. Last time we managed to win... but next time we might not be so lucky. We have to train the body to take the pain, to fight disadvantaged, to use every little trick we can to gain that inch of advantage." If the wall could not be climbed any further, it would have to be circumvented. And if the arms could not hit harder, the legs would have to make up the difference.

    Months had passed, but the siege of Gelone''s fortress was still vivid, painted in the air and sky, replicated in every sound he heard and every scent that caressed him. Gazef savored every moment of calm, so that the blazing inferno would not catch him unprepared when it would sparkle again.

    For angels would not descend from heaven this time. And salvation was a miracle to be conquered.

    "If you say so, Captain." Iovino agreed with him, it was obvious. But Gazef also understood that it took someone to counterbalance his seriousness, to ease the troop''s nerves in the most difficult moments. If a captain''s job was to inspire greatness, the deputy''s was to ensure that they never forgot who they really were. "Did you hear that? Five in a row for Captain Stronoff. Hurry, that we don''t have all day ahead of us!"

    Gazef closed his eyes, to let the darkness envelop him... and then let the morning light flood him.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Well, that went well." They were walking through the hall of the fortress of Biblo, Gazef and Iovino, each step an echo that made the walls tremble. "This time they almost managed to get you in trouble. Next time they might even manage to triumph."

    Gazef looked at the man, wondering if the weariness leaking from that no-longer-young face was the same as the one he now felt gripping his heart. "Not enough, I''m afraid." Adjusting the buttons of his jacket, he could run his fingers along the wrist that wielded a hilt only minutes before, feeling the cold metal still part of him. "Next time they''ll have to do more. We will intensify our training, if we have the time."

    When he was still a mercenary, such a proposal would have been met with disapproval, but in the Theocracy such a notion was unheard of. On one hand, it was reassuring to know how much he could count on his men, a thought not always taken for granted when one put the sword up for sale. On the other, it was legitimate to wonder how far one could go before they broke... a prospect that caused much concern, especially when the end was not in sight any soon.

    "Whatever you say, Captain," Iovino muttered between his teeth. There was worry slithering across his tongue as something slimy stuck in his throat, begging to be allowed out of the mouth. "I hope the meeting with the general goes smoothly... I''m starting to get impatient. Stupid, I''m aware of that. But the more time we spend locked in this place, the more I miss the battlefield and imposing the will of the Gods."

    An easy sentiment to share. They had reached the fortress city not long ago, a couple of weeks at most. But only then had they been received. Why, Gazef could only guess.

    "We are still a foreign force, officially without external affiliations. General Aderbaal wants to test us, to see what our intentions are." When he was still serving in the south, a prince had used the same tactic, leaving his company outside the walls for days. A method to test their composure and adherence to the cause. "Lack of discipline, not following orders, insufficient trust in superiors are all cracks that could prove to be chasms in the moment of engagement. Having to use external troops is not easy, and a test of our character is natural and wise," Gazef rested a hand on his second''s shoulder, trying to appear as confident as possible. "We will prove to General Aderbaal that he needs our support, just as we proved it to General Barca. Have faith."

    Iovino ran a hand over his forehead, adjusting the hair that fell over it. "That never fails, Captain." The pendant engraved with the Fire Goddess'' crest was brought to his lips, and a chaste kiss of devotion sealed its value. "What is missing is hope. We have been here for months now, and home seems only a distant memory."

    Unexpected, for Gazef would never have imagined that such desires were brooding from his second. Had he overlooked, or taken for granted, that what he felt was also shared by others?

    "We''ll be back soon. I promise. Back home..." That word sounded wrong as it was repeated by him. "We''ll just have to beat these demi-humans, and we can consider our work done." In that instant he realized that he had never asked Iovino, or anyone else in his unit for that matter, where he came from.

    The Theocracy was not a monolithic space, but a nation encapsulating different territories and areas with their own customs and history. Perhaps not with many differences from each other, but present. Yet, in his mind, it had been unique and indivisible.

    His deputy laughed. A soft, and almost bitter, laugh. "Home... Unfortunately, Captain, our watch never ends. The only home we know is the battlefield, not the Theocracy. And that was what I was referring to. Only once we are back there can I finally feel at peace. I only feel the presence of the Gods when I am one with my mission."

    Gazef tried to share his laughter, but could only utter a gasp that appeared to be a gesture of mockery. "I see..." Was it the same for him? Champion was the epithet of the Gods, and he had accepted it. Hero was what they had called him in the Draconic Kingdom, and he had accepted it. Captain was what his men called him, and he had accepted it. "We will draw our swords against evil, then. Once more. Together..."

    Gazef Stronoff had accepted many things, and rejected very few. Gazef Stronoff was a man who forged his future with conviction, forgetting the past he never had. The man who was Gazef Stronoff could not always recognise himself in the names by which he was called.

    "...Together!" Said Iovino.

    Whether it was the Theocracy, with hymns reaching to the heavens and bells ringing eternal glory, or the Draconic Kingdom, with chants rhyming with fear and men fighting before they even learned of courage, their history had not yet been written, and perhaps never would be. This did not make it any less worthy of being remembered.

    ''Our watch has no end.'' And that thought gave comfort.

    They arrived in the command room. General Aderbaal was waiting for them, frowning out of the window, his view sweeping over the inner part of the fortress. Beside him, two figures covered in scarlet robes whispered something indiscernible. The difference in height, one short and curved, the other slender and almost touching the sky, was the first detail that jumped out at him.

    "Welcome," Aderbaal was a reddish-haired, dull-eyed man. He wore military dress, with just a few chest frills to emphasize his rank. "You must be the famous Sir Stronoff, champion of Gelone''s fortress. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." The bearded face, covered in wrinkles, did not reveal the slightest weakness or any other clue that would make it easy to understand what he was thinking. "I regret not being able to welcome you at a more auspicious time. The night is long, and we are far from seeing the light of dawn."

    A sturdy arm stretched out to give the welcome. Gazef returned the squeeze, feeling firm fingers tighten. Military life was a constant confrontation, and that was the man''s way of telling him that he placed him as -if not his equal- at least worthy of consideration.

    "We are glad you sent for us," the captain said, looking around. Apart from the reports that rested on endless maps, books on overflowing shelves and unlit candles, the window was a jumble of plants, with pink and red camellias towering above them all. Only upon seeing the watering can placed on the floor did Gazef realize what the general was occupied with before receiving them. "Tell me, how is the situation?"

    "Serious, very serious." General Aderbaal seated them in a pair of armchairs on either side of the room, offering them tobacco and crystal clear water. "But when is the news not serious, here at the front? It would have been worrying otherwise, wouldn''t it?"

    Gazef arched his lips in a kind of smile, trying to place himself on the same wavelength as the man. Tobacco was difficult for him to digest, but he gladly accepted the water. "The demi-humans showed up, then?"

    "No, and that is the worst of it, Sir Stronoff." Finally one of the two hooded figures spoke, the smaller of the two. The voice was familiar to Gazef; a remembrance of a lost and distant sound, rumbling with dark foreboding. "A champion of your stature can well understand what this means."

    Now that he was so close, Gazef could recognise him. The name escaped his memory, but it was the same necromancer who had helped them during the siege at Gelone. The same small, dark eyes, the same elongated face with skin so pale that could have been mistaken for rotten, attached to clearly visible bones. And the medallion with the symbol of the Six Gods that broke the red shades of his attire.

    "They are preparing for something big."

    "Yes," Aderbaal nodded. "The countryside on the border is empty now, and we are full of refugees. The marquises of Zama and Tiro also came here, smelling the danger. At least they brought their troops with them. We fear that the situation that happened to Gelone may happen again, but on a far greater scale this time."

    The first time they had managed to wrest a victory with countless sacrifices, and many more resources. "In the worst case scenario, the Draconic Kingdom could find itself deprived of the territories it so painstakingly regained."

    "And with part of the population gutted and the rest of the army routed," Iovino concluded for him. His second squared off with the general without losing sight of him for a single second. "And, at that point, the situation would become untenable. You are better informed about the current situation of the garrison here than we are, General. Do you think there is any hope of resistance?"

    "No," a dry tone that left no room for doubt. "Currently, even considering the reinforcements we may receive from the Empire and the Theocracy, and using the number of enemies present in Gelone as a basis for comparison, which is a rather optimistic valuation, I believe we would have no chance of victory. Not even with a hero like you, Sir Stronoff."

    It was not an insult, but a simple statement. Of this Gazef was aware, but nevertheless a feeling akin to anger was unavoidable. At his worthlessness, more than anything else. ''Can you be a hero only in certain circumstances? Or must you always be one?'' The answer to that question was a source of constant uncertainty.

    "What are you going to do?" They both knew that surrendering was out of the question. "Wait... or act?"

    The general did not change his expression, but Gazef had the distinct feeling that he was smiling. "Khajiit will explain to you the plan we have worked out."

    The little man moved even closer, and an intolerable stench hit the noses of the two Theocracy soldiers. A well-known one, which Gazef had had the displeasure of smelling more than once. That of a corpse.

    He touched Gazef''s hand, and he got the sensation that it was cold and dead. "Captain Luin is currently on a reconnaissance mission, and a short while ago he got us something very... interesting. Do you know anything about magic, Sir Stronoff?"

    "I have a general smattering of it, but I can hardly deem myself an expert." As an expert warrior, he had known many spells, during his battles, and recognising their effects was akin to an instinct honed by experience. Discussing the inherent mechanisms, however, was unfeasible for him. "If you were to ask me which ones to use in the course of a confrontation, and the countermeasures to take for the most common ones before a reconnaissance, I could venture something concrete. In other cases, I''m afraid guilty ignorance will be all you get."

    "It is more than one would have expected, Sir Stronoff." The second figure spoke. A woman. Again the voice was familiar, and at the same time it was not. "You will forgive us if we leave aside the more theoretical explanations. What counts, in the end, are the results." It was as if a melody that had accompanied him all his life had after a long time been rediscovered, whose lyrics, timbre, tonality he only then recalled. A sweet reminiscence full of lingering yearning, but with the crispness of an autumn wind blowing at the end of a long summer.

    A dream in which an entire life had been lived in a single night. In the morning, awakening had faded the image, leaving only fragments and ethereal forms floating in the recondite secrets of remembrance, never leaving the heart. And now that it returned, it seemed as real in the waking world as it did in the oneiric realm.

    "I am listening..." Said Gazef. The hood covered most of the woman''s features, to which only part of the mouth was clearly visible. Everything about her was white. Pure. The diaphanous skin and thin lips knew no other hue. It was not the white of winter, cold and pitiless. It was not the white of light, warm and welcoming. It was the white that stood at the origin, the one from which the many descended. Primordial and radiant, the one absolute certainty. That which adorned the soul of sanctity.

    "Order requires a price, and even sacrifice becomes acceptable compared to an extraordinary result," Gazef realized he was a lake, and the woman''s words were the drops that filled him. The shining half-moon that traced her hands in the air, the reflection of a truth that was being unveiled to him at that very moment. "The spiral of death must turn, to reach equilibrium. We need it, you see? Negative energy, born of resentment and regret, to reach the truth."

    ''Freedom only comes with death.'' That sentence was as if whispered directly into his soul. Gazef looked around, to see if he was the only one who had heard it.

    Iovino was as bewildered as he was, but General Aderbaal looked at the woman and Khajiit, and finally granted a smile.

    "You want to use the undead," when Gazef understood, it was as if the world had been shrouded in a shadow, yet never so clear. Never so simple. "As you did at Gelone''s fortress. Use the enemy dead, then turn them against their own comrades." The ethics of that decision were shaky, but in war rules were made to be broken. And, hard to admit, during the siege the undead had been key to the final victory.

    If there was honor, in that world, Gazef Stronoff wanted to be its defender. If there was honor, in him, Gazef Stronoff wondered every day what it meant, and what was the right way to pay tribute to it.

    "Do not those beasts use our dead as food, our civilians as supplies and our lands as hunting grounds?" The general''s question was the kind that did not wait for an answer, already implied in the speech. "Let us use their dead, and their flesh, I say. Let us sacrifice them to our altars and bathe in their blood. Until they can no longer reach out to us, as long as it is the stories of us that keep their children awake in the middle of the night. Until they learn to fear humans, and their arts." The weariness of someone who had stopped dreaming, and who in the waking world had lost all illusion. "We could drive them back, as you did, Sir Stronoff. We could defeat them, using everything at our disposal. But then a year will pass, or two, or three. And they will return. A single one of those creatures can devour an entire defenseless village when it reaches adulthood. Without any special training. Without any need to coat itself in steel or metal. Do you know what I call this thing?"

    Gazef did not have an answer.

    "Injustice," Iovino, however, did. "Men cannot rebel against a fate that has placed them last. They can suffer and lament their condition, or they can rebel."

    It had never occurred to him, in the end, that the Theocracy was the home of that rebellion. The Gods had originally granted mankind the means to repudiate that unhappy fate. Suffering and martyrdom were their cries of rage; war and death, the blades of revolution.

    In the midst of those centuries of blood and tears, the story of a mercenary convert was but a tiny footnote of little importance. But that note could have filled the page, had the right decisions been made.

    "What do you want us to do?"

    Khajiit moistened his lips with satisfaction. "What every good soldier must do," he muttered. "Kill." From his sleeve he slipped out a round, spherical object. A purple ball that pulsed with malevolent energy. He placed it in Gazef''s hands, and the captain could feel himself being touched by something formless and wrong. "These orbs capture the very source of negative energy. We have more, many more. Once at least a couple are filled with your efforts, we can begin the actual plan."

    Like finely crafted glass, Gazef could see his reflection in that item that exuded power. Eyes that were his own stared back at him, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

    Both he and the man in the mirror knew the answer. No less simple, it made it. It was never simple.

    "It is not only the death of our enemies you want to make use of," Gazef''s temples twitched, leaving room for endless worry. "Our soldiers will also swell the numbers of your new ranks."

    "This will give their end a purpose," the general retorted. "Broadly speaking, it takes three well-trained humans to be able to take on one of those beasts. You are more aware of that than I am. This will be one way we can restore balance."

    "What does the queen think of all this?" In the end, it was up to her to make the final decision.

    Aderbaal hesitated, just for a moment. "She will accept it," the man turned back to his tulips, letting the stems slip through his callous hands. "Do you know the story of the founding of this kingdom, Sir Stronoff?"

    "The Rainbow Dragon established it after the Evil Deities were unleashed."

    "Correct. Since then, dragon blood has been running through the veins of the royal family. In that of our beloved sovereign, thicker than any before her."

    "What do you mean?" At least in appearance, Draudillon Oriculus retained a feminine appearance, and save for some special magical abilities, nothing suggested that any secrets lurked within her.

    A dragon could transform and assume any form, some legends recounted, but it was hard to believe that Draudillon Oriculus was capable of such wonders.

    And if she was, she was also very good at hiding it.

    "It is the ancestral blood, Captain." Iovino turned towards him, with extreme seriousness. His wavy hair partly concealed the fixed gaze, which, however, leaked out with even more intensity. "That of the first dragons who gathered at the Court of the Dragon Emperor. Not like the diluted one of the current dragon lords, no. They are the ancient and remote secrets of the old masters of the world. The magic that shaped the world, and rewrote the laws of the universe. The oldest form of power."

    "You mean..."

    "The Queen is a more unique example than rare." It was the woman who was white who uttered what sounded like a sentence, a judgment of the utmost assessment. "She was instructed by the Rainbow Dragon, as you called him, or the Brightness Dragon Lord, as most refer to him. His ancient name, I fear, has been lost among the plagues of history. But what is important is that she could use her power to end this war."

    "Then why doesn''t she?" Gazef felt assailed by doubts. Everything he was hearing was starting to make sense, but something had been kept from him. A crucial piece, one that would give the picture a full meaning. "If she has such powers, why doesn''t she end the war herself? Why does she not take to the battlefield, and proclaim victory?" There were many words to define Draudillon Oriculus but, in the short time the warrior had been acquainted with her, coward was not the one he would have used to describe the queen.

    "Rules," explained the white woman. "There are rules to be followed. Ancestral magic is an imposition, first of all. As such, it can be celebrated by offerings, or enforced by violence. A good harvest requires good sowing. The queen has inherited the art and vocation, but it is incomplete. A distant replica, lacking in form. She doesn''t have obvious qualities that her ancestors possessed and possess. Some of them are obvious, as you can well see. Others are more difficult to discern. In the time of the Dragon Emperor, the use of magic was connected to much more complex mechanisms than those of today... mechanisms that are in part lost."

    Gazef thought back to the queen, and to the woman who leaned on him in doubt, and in frailty, but who at the same time imposed herself with grace and dignity in the face of grief. "I am not sure I understand this well, but if it were true, it would mean that there are very clear reasons why Queen Oriculus cannot descend to the battlefield herself." His limited imagination manufactured the woman in battle dress, with an unusually large weapon for her size, like perhaps a great ax or a great sword, wielded to the rhythm of arcane secrets. ''Silly thoughts.'' "But if she could manage it..."

    "Then the war would be over. Forever." General Aderbaal concluded. A spark of perverse exhilaration ran through his entire body, and beneath that human appearance could be drawn the aura of a fiend. "Sir Stronoff, our queen is capable of great wonders, of which we are not even aware. But to do that, there are only two ways. The first would be for each of the inhabitants of this cursed nation to offer themselves as a sacrifice, to feed her power. A tragic end, don''t you think? To escape their torments, men are left to do nothing more than give up not only their lives, but what defines them, placed in the hard choice between horror and oblivion."

    "That would be the offering part," and in that case, it was easy to understand why Draudillon Oriculus was reluctant to take such extreme measures. For a queen who saw her kingdom represented by the people, not lands and riches, it was an inconceivable sacrifice. "As for the second?"

    The general calmed down, although that vein of madness could still be seen on his face. Literally, for a little lump on his forehead was throbbing unnaturally. "We''re still unsure about that one... but there''s a reason we handed you that orb. Dragon magic and the nature of undeath, if unrelated, have something in common."

    "You don''t mean that¡­"

    Khajiit sneered, with teeth whose rot was visible even from a distance. "The soul, Sir Stronoff. What happens when the body takes its last breath? Does the soul remain connected to it? Or does it fly off somewhere? Resurrection magic might make us think of the first hypothesis, yet even such a miracle sometimes fails. And bodies left to their own devices can return in the dark shapes we know so well. Is it the same impulse that moved them before that gives them motion, or are the wheels that spin these new bodies different?" He leaned close to Gazef, and the total absence of any smell now, even the most rancid, was even more unpleasant. "These are only theories, but you understand their practical contribution... could prove very productive."

    "So you want me to use this object to capture the souls of enemies?" But was such a feat even possible? Or was it just the ravings of madmen who had lost all other hope? If he had only had to attest to the general and Khajiit, the answer would have been well obvious to Gazef.

    But the woman who was white stared at him. Not that he could be sure, with her face still half covered by that crimson hood, but it was a strange feeling. Like his very heart was being grazed by long, sharp nails, gauging its texture and counting its every smallest grain.

    "You try it, Sir Stronoff. It will cost you nothing," the general offered his hand to help him up, almost as if he were inviting a guest to leave. "Your first mission will be to reach Captain Luin, and find out where our enemies are holed up at the moment. Do that, and should the fight break out, engage as you always have. You won''t have to do anything but slay... this I was told you are very good at."

    Gazef placed the ''gift'' he had received back into the hands of his second. Iovino had suspicion lashing at his seemingly gracious appearance, but said nothing. He trusted his captain to make the right choice.

    "I will think about it," said Gazef Stronoff. "No promises, right?"

    "No promises," the woman who was white heartened him. To Gazef she appeared in the midst of the most beautiful of smiles, though her lips had remained still since the conversation had begun, movement a chimera for such appendages. "It''s just... a suggestion. A request for help, if you will. For the Draconic Kingdom, of course." Her arm rose and, behind the folds of her robe, a spasm could be caught through the perfect figure. An almost unusual movement. An act of unnaturalness, perhaps granted by a whim.

    "Of course, Sir Stronoff," concurred General Aderbaal. "Why don''t you start heading out of town? Someone who is waiting for you has arrived. And if you have any uncertainties about what our beloved queen might think, you have nothing to fear. I will inform her Majesty Oriculus as soon as possible, so that when the time is right, she will be able to join us."

    "I will," Gazef took his leave, feeling the darkness approaching.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When they were outside the palace, he turned to his second. "What do you think of all this?"

    Iovino scratched his chin, uncertain. "We should try to follow this plan, Captain."

    ''Not what I expected to hear.'' "I''m just unsure if this is the queen''s will. It''s true that she gave us free rein, but to act on something so sensitive without her consent... it doesn''t seem wise."

    Outside, people conversed amiably, letting the tension perceived not overwhelm them. It was to protect that peace that Gazef had wielded the sword, and it was to give those people meaning in their lives that he was prepared to sacrifice even himself.

    "The queen has asked me to keep an eye on General Aderbaal, Captain." Iovino said. "She does not trust him. He is a product of the aristocracy, not the royal family. Although I expected to find an incompetent administrator... not a madman."

    The doctrine of Theocracy on undeath was clear. Yet Khajiit and his retinue were part of the cult, the most concealed and contradictory part. For those who celebrated the lord of death, Surshana, such a paradox was a vital fluid of belief.

    Nigun and the sunlight scriptures had veiled contempt for them, and Iovino seemed to be no less.

    "In that case... maybe we should just wait."

    "No," retorted his second. Gazef had never had conviction burn so brightly in his gaze. "The queen also entrusted me with the task of assisting the general, in case he was plotting something, and if so, to intervene. If he is up to something crazy, as we really believe, our non-cooperation will only make him more cautious. If, on the other hand, we pretend to follow his plan, we will have the opportunity to expose him." The speech ended there, but the feeling that there was more to be added was pregnant. Was it shame that prevented his second from staring him in the face? Or was there something else?

    If her majesty Oriculus had entrusted that task to Iovino, and not Gazef, there could have been many motivations.

    "The Cardinals will also have to be warned. They will want to know what the Adepts of the End are up to."

    "Aye, I''ll see to that."

    Gazef nodded, still feeling anxious. He reexamined the orb that had been entrusted to him, still feeling that unpleasant energy seeping from the sphere''s refinements, tempted by the possibility of shattering it into a thousand pieces, sitting there.

    The possible consequences of such a gesture were what held him back from acting at that very moment.

    "In any case, I wonder who is waiting for us¡­" His lucubrations did not have to wait long before finding an answer.

    The gates of the fortress, swarming with guards on every wall, were open and a familiar voice greeted Gazef and Iovino as they reached the place.

    "It is good to see you, Sir Stronoff!"

    Cerabrate rode into the streets on a pure white horse, his shining breastplate catching the sun''s blessings until they shone brighter than they did when they were still in the firmament. Every passer-by would stop to greet him, and to express due respect with simple gestures of devotion, acclaiming his name, bowing to his radiance, or applauding fervently.

    "The Fierce Flash is ready to ride again!" He shouted to the cheering crowd. The strength of an adamantium-class adventurer was also that. Exaltation and hope rose with his mere presence, almost as if the light he brought was too much for one man to bear, and had to be shared. "My friend, let''s embrace!"

    When they were close enough, Cerabrate dismounted from the saddle, and reunited in a gesture of affection with Gazef.

    "It is also good for me to meet you again." Someone who did not hide what he was, and who still believed in heroism and aiding others. The Holy Knight was a spokesman for all these values, and the Theocracy warrior couldn''t help but be grateful for it in that moment of doubt. "Was it the queen who sent you here?"

    Behind the leader, the rest of Crystal Tear followed a few paces behind. Gazef greeted Lilianne with a gesture of his head, who reciprocated with equal discretion, and Imilcone, who looked around dazedly. As far as the warrior had heard, resurrection tended to have long-lasting effects in some cases, and the one that had brought the spellcaster back to life had been a more complicated ritual than the ordinary one.

    Gazef wondered how much more he remembered, but decided that would be a speech for another occasion.

    ''''She did not want to send us at first!'''' The adventurer exclaimed, feigning astonishment. "Her Great Majesty Queen Oriculus feared it would not be possible to pay our fee, and that our contribution had been far too much. ''Nonsense!'' I told her. Do I look like a cheap worker to you? Ready to ask for the gabble when his homeland is in danger?"

    "I would say not."

    "And you would be goddamn right! I reassured her doubts and guaranteed that our reward would be the smiles of the children who might find peace at the end of it all," he leaned close to Gazef''s ear, awash in the scent of violets, whispering with amusement. His comrades apparently shared that noble sentiment. "Between you and me, I think the queen has a soft spot for me. A man knows love in the eyes when he sees it."

    Expectations might have been dashed, and where the heart showed a golden sunset, other sights might have beheld only arid desert instead.

    "What do you intend to do, now that you are here?" The corner of Gazef''s mouth stretched with benevolence and courtesy.

    Cerabrate gave him a vigorous pat on the shoulder, nearly making him wobble. "I have already been informed of my duty," said the Holy Knight, glowing with a light that made the most poignant sunset pale. "Get your men ready! The hunt will start soon!"

 Special chapter

    Valkyrie

    Stories had a special power.

    They opened doors to worlds that were distant and different, but also so very close and familiar. The values they conveyed were universal and profound; they broke the barriers of time and space in search of common ground between those who wrote and those who experienced them.

    The writers wrote to prove that their existence had not been unique or unrepeatable, but to seek out, even unconsciously, those who saw the world with the same eyes with which they viewed it. And the readers read to find comfort, to break down the barriers of the years and discover that the doubts and fears, courage and emotions they felt had been shared by others who came before them, and would continue to be rediscovered by those who would come later.

    A mosaic that was enriched each time with a new piece, a new figure, a new interpretation; never finished and yet never incomplete.

    Antilene was just a child, aware that she still had a lot to learn. Yet, she could grasp such a concept.

    "Is this...?"

    But when the stories became real, when what you had imagined all your short life became apparent before your eyes... it was difficult to match what your mind had fantasized with what reality placed before you.

    Disappointment?

    Perhaps that would have been the most common emotion to feel and, although bitter, was understandable.

    Words could describe in long and minute detail the splendor and power of the Gods, poetry could bring out the purest and deepest feelings of the soul and the sensation that came from knowing that, after all, no one was really alone. That someone, from above, was listening and hearing your prayers.

    Antilene had found comfort in those words. When the darkness of her room seemed to encompass everything, only the dim flame of a candle and those words read and reread by the light of a faint hearth nourished hopes and dreams of something different. Something more beautiful, perhaps.

    But no matter how hard one tried... no matter how much the intertwining of aspirations and awe had painted the fabulous ideal of a greatness beyond earthly filth... everything paled before the truth.

    "Yes... It is the Armour of the Wind." Rufus'' voice was solemn. It always was. Laden with that melancholy that not even death could silence. "Go ahead. Try it on."

    Antilene hesitated.

    The Armor of the Wind shone more than a hundred thousand stars, and the glow belonged to the regalia of an ineffability that humans could not really observe, only brush by, with shifty eyes, blessing those quick glances that had been granted, enrapturing that absolute so perfect it brought tears.

    "I don''t know if¡­"

    Antilene had read the stories. She had read of how the breath of the Primordial Dragon had engulfed that sacred protection.

    ''But how can one compare the fiery breath of a dragon with the sacred flames of the forge of the Gods? The fire of creation itself had molded the body and weapons of the Ones above all. In their presence, the old lords of the world finally understood what it meant to be small. What it meant¡­ to live in fear.''

    That was the sentence that foreshadowed the climax of the tale, the moment when Nekole, God of the Wind, had walked into that fiery inferno, heedless of everything, with his sole mission of salvation giving him the strength to protect his people, his children.

    She had seen reproduced in one of her illustrated books the tapestry that adorned one of the walls of the Cathedral of the Wind, with the deity protected by that same enchanted armor, astride a pegasus as ethereal as the air, the divine halo that cloaked him and the blade of pure enchanted light that ripped through the monster''s long neck.

    One day, Antilene of that was certain, she would have beheld the original and, until then, there was in her certain belief that nothing more bewitching would be placed before her gaze.

    How wrong she was¡­

    At that very moment, Antilene had realized how great her sin had been. How foolish she had been to believe, even for a moment, that part of that story had been an exaggeration, a rush of boundless celebration, dictated by too much faith and love.

    Immaculate was the Armour of the Wind. And signs of the endless battles, the infinite dangers into which the God of Heaven had thrown himself to allow the Theocracy to grow and prosper were absent.

    The fangs of the ancestral beasts, the beings who had moved mountains and skies to shape the world, had not etched their ferocity into the armor.

    The claws had not affected the firmness and luster of that unknown metal.

    And the fire, that all-consuming heat, had been extinguished by the wind.

    If crimson blood had ever smeared that white, it had not been the blood of a God.

    Gods, after all, did not bleed.

    "What troubles you, my dear child?"

    "I am not ready, master. I am not worthy." Antilene Heran Fouche had been blessed with the blood.

    Blood of the Gods.

    But it was not enough. It would never be enough.

    Her lips had been split, her bones broken and her body had bled. Antilene Heran Fouche was not strong.

    A pure imitation, something that came close but could never compare to the original.

    A fake.

    "You have already tried the other equipment of the Gods. Why does this one scare you so much?" Rufus knew how to be understanding. His was the patience of only those who lived for centuries learned. A bottomless well that no drought would make dry.

    "This time is different, master. This is not a single piece of equipment, a single thing. It is an entire suit of armor! Worn and sported by a God. What am I, compared to it?"

    The mere idea of soiling it with indignity was a source of worry and doubts. Was it not cruel to ask a child to put herself on the same level as the one who had first blown the winds, who had established the values of chivalry and courage, who had inspired artists and warriors alike? A vicious joke, doomed to failure?

    "My little child, such is your torment?" If Rufus was disappointed, he did not show it. Not because he was undead. The master did not need expressions to voice what he thought. His talking was a continuous melody and every time he spoke, Antilene wanted to stay and listen to it forever. "You remain suspended between a world you must protect, and one you wish to destroy. I know that desire. What is asked of you is not to become a God. No one could. Nor am I asking you to. But that armor is yours, as is everything in this treasury. Do you know why?"

    Antilene shook her head. She felt a hand caress her shoulder, gently. It was always a surprise to see how warm it was.

    "Where you see treasures and wonders, which have coloured the stories you have savored since you can remember, I see more. I see a legacy. And, as such, it needs someone to accept it. Blood flows in you, the blood of those who protected this land. The spilled blood of their descendants who accepted the hard and heavy heritage. Like them, you are called to reap it."

    "Is this my destiny?" The half-elf asked, fearful. Behind the darkness of the hood, in the dim light of the candlesticks, she saw her teacher leaning close to her.

    "Destiny is not something that is forced upon us, my dear. It is an offering. As such, it is up to you to decide to embrace or reject it."

    The skeletal fingers traced a sort of smile on his skull, to make it clear what it was that Rufus was trying to convey. Antilene let a laugh escape, heartened by that funny, yet endearing gesture.

    "I don''t know if I''m ready¡­"

    "Never we know. If not, having faith would be so much easier, don''t you think? What I can tell you is that part of me curses itself, because in you are my lords born again, and this body has no tears to show the emotion, joy and pride you give me. More than all who have been Godkin, more than all who are sacrificed in the short history of this nation, in you I see the ardor of Fire, and the compassion of Water. Hard and strong as the Earth, free and elusive as the Wind. She who has known the greatest Darkness, but is ready to fight for the most dazzling Light. And do you know why?"

    Once again, Antilene found herself shaking her head. Rufus''s hand shook, slowly, a lock of hair that covered one of her ears. Part of her was seized by the impulse to cover herself immediately, but, in the end, desisted.

    "Because you''re not perfect. Or, at least, that''s what you -foolishly- believe. That void we all have to fill, in you is an abyss... and it makes you stronger. Stronger than you know."

    "You too, master? Do you have that emptiness too?" It was hard to fathom.

    "Of course," Rufus replied. "Our humanity is ultimately defined by what we sense is missing. It is how we decide to fill that void that reveals who we really are."

    "Who we really are¡­" A woman with long hair as dark as night immediately came to the half-elf''s mind. Had it been possible, Antilene would have wanted to console her, a first and last time. "Perhaps I am beginning to understand." And that was no lie.

    Rufus stood, approaching the Wind Armour. "I ask again. Antilene Heran Fouche, will you prove your heritage? Will you show who you really are?"

    "I will!" An unexpected conviction, which the half-elf was astonished to find.

    Rufus nodded, "Proceed."

    Antilene took a few seconds to be ready. Then, after taking a deep breath, and making sure nothing was out of place, she began to take the armor from the large case it was on display in.

    The first thing she noticed was how light it was, and at the same time how resistant it appeared to the touch. Her fingers trembled before she slipped it on. The magic gave its touch, and what might have looked like a giant''s armor slowly began to adapt to the slimmer and certainly less imposing body of the half-elf.

    From the shoes of arms to the ruff, from the forearms to the thighs, metal and leather joined, giving Antilene the feeling that her skin was coming to life again, that the energy she felt tingling from the apex of her back to the tips of her thumbs had been part of her from the beginning, and had truly never left, only distanced from her attention for that little while.

    The helmet was the last part that completed that preparation. Through the glass of the shrine, the girl could see her face beginning to disappear as the thin line of the visor separated her from the rest of the world; the golden decorations unfolding at the sides like the wings of a great eagle, and her master helping her to tighten the joints.

    And it was in that feeble instant that her talent awakened.

    It was, of course, not the first time that had happened. Every weapon and equipment in the treasury had once belonged to one of the six deities of the Theocracy. In agreement with Rufus, the half-elf had begun to familiarize herself with some of them, to learn the secrets and arcane knowledge they held.

    More than once she had lived once again those moments that her blessing granted her; just a small glimpse of a distant past that gifted itself to her as present.

    Nekole, God of the Wind, was as handsome as the bards and minstrels had painted him, with a perpetual smile on his face. Fearless and contemptuous, Antilene could, in those few seconds, watch him in the midst of battle, in the blaze of eternal glory. His opponent was covered by a thick cloud, which made it impossible to distinguish him from his surroundings, as talent never revealed more than was necessary.

    "Einherjar¡­" The half-elf heard that word, which sounded so strange to her ears, and was able to witness the miracle, the divine transmuting into flesh. The translucent aura that was emitted from his body consolidated, took shape and became concrete, perceptible.

    Nekole multiplied, the single became two. Already a God was a dazzling spectacle, beyond all human logic. And here the impossible had manifested itself not once, but twice.

    A word made contact with her mind. At first, just an empty space, a sound whose meaning was partly interrupted, partly lost.

    "..."

    Then it became more audible, more concrete, if such a word could be made. It was dense, strange and unknown.

    "Valkyrie." Said nothing. The first letter uttered. The first ray of the sun perceived. The language that communicated with her, not for the first time. Just as an infant had to take time, to associate meaning with a world at first unfamiliar and fearful, so that word, repeated ever since the dream had become reality, and reality had become something more, emerged from the darkness. "Valkyrie!" It grew louder. Louder and louder. "Valkyrie!" Until it became thunder, an earthquake. An echo of a distant world ingrained in her very being.

    The vision began to dissipate, slowly drawing her back into her own world. Antilene''s eyes had not closed, but each time it seemed to her that she was waking up from a long dream, where what she had experienced, and what now remained in her blurred; a lingering uneasiness and awareness, leading her to search for something of which she was not even aware and which, worse than anything, could have been forgotten in no time.

    "Are you all right?" Rufus greeted her with a few simple gestures. He adjusted the helmet, which hung slightly to the right, and brushed away some non-existent dust, out of a habit that was difficult to control. Antilene already knew what question would follow, but still gave the undead time to formulate it. "What did you see?"

    "The Wind God," the half-elf replied, still trying to piece together what had happened to her. "He was fighting someone, though I cannot say who. He uttered a word: ''Einherjar'', and then a construct with his features began to manifest. Completely white, like the most candid snow. An evocation, perhaps?" The art of summoning, as far as she was aware, rested on precise rules.

    Excess could not be contemplated. It could be circumvented with powerful magical items, but conjuring was subject to precise rules: it could not give life to more than what one was, but only to something inferior in the whole.

    "And then," Antilene continued, slowly beginning to undress from that divine protection. The God''s helmet was turned in front of her, and the girl could not help but wonder if it was the original owner himself who returned her gaze and curiosity now, perhaps from a distant place, a place inaccessible to those who had stopped dreaming. "One word: valkyrie. The keystone, I think. Like it was for the other Gods. Foundation of something more." She scratched her cheek, still confused. "I''m not sure what it really means."

    Cryptic, her talent. So much it offered, but so much it demanded to be used. Without guidance to nurture it, doomed to be lost in the sea of mediocrity.

    Fortunately, that guidance was here with her now.

    "Valkyrie¡­" Rufus repeated that word once, twice, three, countless times.

    "Valkyrie¡­" Antilene followed suit, with less graceful results. Her tongue twisted in the effort to pronounce that harsh sound. "Valkyrie." It took a few tries before the half-elf felt confident enough she could intone it with the right emphasis and intonation. If one thing was certain, it was the significance that term had to hold.

    Her master, meanwhile, gave breath to his thoughts. The empty eye sockets lit up with sparks from deeper than the abyss they used to linger in. "A Valkyrie. Is this the way? But can the inhabitants of this world... without the right qualifications? A shortcut? It wouldn''t be the first time, would it? But is that the missing piece of the puzzle?"

    Of everything, Antilene could understand very little. In fact, only one thing the half-elf wished to know. "What is a Valkyrie?"

    There was power in the words. Even a child could understand that. Even a little girl could see the teacher looking into the future, visualizing prospects into concrete opportunities. And even a half-elf could know when the fork in the road that was set before her became difficult to take.

    "Valkyrie¡­" Rufus stroked his chin, as he was wont to do when in the grip of contemplation. Antilene knew that it was not eloquence that the undead lacked. If anything, it was the skill of being able to explain complex concepts to pits of ignorance as she was that was missing. Someday, perhaps, she would be able to put a stop to the Patron Deity''s worries.

    Someday, perhaps...

    "A Valkyrie is a warrior," he finally said, looking at her with eyes that were not there. "A Valkyrie is a warrior, yes. A Valkyrie is a God. Maidens, in ancient times. Maidens devoted to the salvation of those who placed in faith the purpose of their existence, in the word of the Gods their song. But not only this, not only this. Much more¡­"

    "...Like mother?"

    "Like you," Rufus pointed to the chest, grazing her heart. "And like your mother, in part. Your mother had the spirit, and she had the skills, but never managed to become a Valkyrie. She never managed to become one, and like her, many others before. Even when the Gods were still among us."

    Antilene lowered her gaze, many things she still could not understand. To curse oneself was a weakness, to feel happiness for your greatness a disgrace. The blood of the Gods required discipline, control, and humility. For of the humble would be the earth, and the humble would inherit everything. So it was written. And so it would be.

    And the shame she felt at that moment was, at the same time, impossible to justify and too difficult to dispel.

    "The God of Wind was no maiden," was all the girl managed to say. "What is that supposed to mean?"

    "Einherjar," the master answered her, as if in that simple word all the secrets of the world could be unfolded, as if every answer was provided even before the question. "There is power in words, my dear. More power than you can imagine. Nekole was not a maiden, that was undoubtedly correct. And Nekole was also a Valkyrie. That too was beyond doubt. Tell me, can two contradictions coexist as one single truth? Can white also be black?"

    "I think not," ventured the half-elf, her head beginning to smoke more than the hearths raised in celebration of the Goddess Lagusa. "How do you explain that?"

    "Einherjar, that is the answer. Do you know what that means, my dear?"

    Antilene had to surrender instantly. "I cannot even imagine it."

    There was beauty in some words. If Valkyrie was a sound that made strength and might its melody, einherjar to the ear was long and delicate, quick and scornful. Both were the unceasing wind, associated in her imagination with the whirlwind that never stopped.

    "It is an ancient language, already old when the Gods were still young,''"Rufus began to explain.

    "It must have been a long, long time ago," Antilene murmured. No surprise that they sounded so steeped in power, so unfamiliar, so distant...

    "Indeed, it was." In what little time she had spent with the Patron Deity, the half-elf boasted, perhaps foolishly, that she had managed, if not to understand him completely, at least to catch a glimpse of the most important part of him. It was that nostalgia, never sad, it was never sad, that decorated with rare splashes of vitality the decaying and worn face of the undead; a fleeting, yet imperishable grace, reinventing itself with new memories, always remaining firmly planted in the roots of an era sadly gone. "If we wanted to translate it, the term einherjar would mean ''remarkable warrior''. And, undoubtedly, in the world of the Gods these were the einherjar. Warriors who had distinguished themselves through strength and valor, deserving a place alongside the heavenly choirs, for all eternity.''

    "But that is not all there is¡­" Antilene urged him, sensing there was more to it.

    Her master stroked her head. Nazaire''s touch was the only yardstick she had, but it was always mind-boggling for Antilene to note the differences between the nanny and the undead. Differences that many would have taken for granted.

    Instead, for the half-elf, it was the number of points in common that was the dividing line. Both showed affection with gentle, and controlled, physical contact, reserving it for occasions that, from their perspective, merited special celebration. The touch of both was warm and full of affection, although in different ways, causing the second coming of the Fire Goddess on Antilene''s face.

    Nazaire''s skin smelled of biscuits and chrysanthemums, always full of a richness reminiscent of life. Rufus'', of course, emitted no odor whatsoever. That did not mean that nothing leaked out of him. Like winter brine he was frosty at first impression, cold and unforgiving.

    The closer one got, however, the easier it was to glimpse how much those barriers were an illusion, manufactured by a love that was difficult to make blossom, and impossible to wither.

    "The trump card, einherjar, also has another meaning," he murmured softly. "''He who fights alone''. ''Army of one''. As the first of the paladins, Nekole is something more than man or woman. He is an idea, made flesh and blood for men. The idea of a world where valor is recognised, and rewarded. Why do you think a God fights alone?"

    Antilene thought again about the stories. The meaning could always be traced back to those tales. The common point was always there.

    "To protect us," she said, confident for once. "To prevent others from carrying his burden." An ideal that, on closer inspection, overflowed with love. An everlasting sacrifice.

    That could not be questioned.

    Perhaps it was blasphemy, but Antilene did not miss a trace of loneliness, in that answer, in that truth. The loneliness that accompanied such an existence was governed by a deeply painful and incredibly unfair irony.

    Those uncertainties did not escape her master, who signaled for her to look at him. The morning light streamed in through the cathedral''s stained glass windows, finding the foothold of their splendor in Rufus'' skull. The marble bones became tinged with the orange of the first dawn.

    Light and darkness knew no union, but it was in that contrast that their fulfillment poured forth.

    "It is a bitter realization, this. For even the Gods must fight and die alone. That does not make it any less true, unfortunately. You, too, may one day share the same unfortunate fate," the voice of the undead remained impassive and unchanged. How was it possible, however, that it sounded broken to Antilene? The half-elf could not come up with an explanation.

    "To die alone¡­" In the end, there was not much difference between death and life. Looking for something beyond that, the half-elf sighed. "In that case, I will be ready." Repeating that resolution aloud did not make it any less burdensome.

    Her master seemed pleased to hear that. "The fact that you may find yourself dying alone does not imply that this will really be the conclusion of your story. Even a certainty can collapse under the right circumstances. You asked me earlier what a Valkyrie was. Many additional answers could be given, countless theories to complete the picture. Ah, how much we could discuss. And indeed, many future lessons will be devoted to this. But, to stay at the core, a Valkyrie is, I like to think, a guide and a companion."

    "A guide?"

    "Yes. The existence of men in this world is marked by sorrow and loss. The Six Great Gods sought to alleviate it, succeeding, in part. To escape their fate most men cling to a dim hope. Others, fewer in number, try to become that same hope for others. We all die alone," Rufus repeated that mantra, so that it would remain inscribed in Antilene''s soul. "However, that does not mean that someone cannot give us relief before that moment arrives. An eternity of battles awaited the einherjars, yet the Valkyries managed to convince them to plead their cause until the end of time, when the stars would grow old and the sun and moon would lose their shine. Valkyries, in the world of the Gods, gave the greatest gift someone on their deathbed could ever receive. Something we all seek, without always finding."

    "What is it?" Antilene asked, curiosity making her eyes sparkle.

    "A meaning." Rufus moved her hair again. Antilene''s prayers, aimed at preventing him from noticing that she had once again covered her shame, were not answered. Or, perhaps, it had simply come in a different way than expected. "Do you understand, now, why the Wind God was also a Valkyrie? Because words have a meaning, which binds them to our conceptions, customs and beliefs. Nekole, the God who wanted his sons and daughters to be safe, who wanted all the inhabitants of the Theocracy to know happiness, never let anyone leave this world in doubt. And now, Antilene Heran Fouche, it is up to you to gather his testimony. You will be the proof that the Gods have blessed this nation. The testimony of their love, the messenger of their word."

    Wasn''t that too much to ask of one person?

    Antilene was still wearing the armor of the Wind. Enclosed in that casing, her body was no longer her own.

    Messenger, Rufus had called her. What would her message be?

    Lightbringer, Faine had been called. The splendor of the Theocracy of Slaine. The dazzling daughter of the Gods, and of the infinite cosmos from which they came.

    But Faine, her mother, was no more. The Gods were no more. They had returned to the beginning, to eternal night. It was Antilene''s task now to preserve the dream. The waking was still far away.

    "Yes, master," she said at last. "I shall become a Valkyrie."

    "You know what to do."

    The half-elf activated her talents. Each time, it was different. The knowledge of the principles, of the laws that governed unknown mechanisms became clear, and even though Antilene could not exactly calibrate their function, framing each cog in the system, it did not matter.

    The source from which she drank quenched every thirst, and the endless library poured its contents into her. Ignorance was a bridge to that limitless infinity.

    "¡ºEinherjar¡»."

    There was knowledge to be found in words.

    But the ineffability of the Gods could not be expressed in mere words, for before it intellect and language proved insufficient. What remained was only acceptance and gratitude, for the love that had been bestowed.

    Antilene saw her body in front of her. She saw the little girl with the armor of Wind and the ears of sin staring at her and, in return, the half-elf looked at her.

    "You did it!" Her master exclaimed. His satisfaction was Antilene''s satisfaction.

    "Is this Einherjar?" The half-elf reached out her hand, to touch her double''s lips.

    The construct remained motionless.

    Antilene thought she would like to see it smile.

    The construct smiled.

    Antilene laughed.

    The construct laughed with her.

    Antilene would have liked to leap for joy.

    The construct jumped, in euphoria.

    "Today, the Gods are happy, my dear." Proclaimed Rufus. "Today, the evidence of their coming has never been stronger. May the Theocracy live forever, and may you celebrate its greatness."

    "I only hope I am worthy, teacher," replied Antilene. She saw the undead nod, to dispel all her hesitation.

    The half-elf approached the Einherjar, who continued to wait for her order.

    The embrace that followed was awkward, but satisfying.

    Antilene wondered if this was what it felt like to have a friend. The time of solitude was perhaps over.

    Execution

    The trumpets blared, covering the military march with their din. The ground seemed almost to tremble, as the streets of Silksuntecks were traversed by a golden procession of cloaks as bright as sunlight and armor so glittering as to make one believe that all the jewels of the world had been gathered in one place, for all to feast on their splendor.

    "They are the paladins of the temple of light," whispered an elder to Nazaire, nearly spitting in her ear. "They come from the far east, right from where that demihuman warlord had invaded the newly formed human kingdom. How magnificent they are¡­"

    The woman nodded, making her way through the crowd. She made just a few signs of thanks to the stranger, before setting off on her way again.

    The entire citizenry had given way to that exterminated group to allow them to find no hindrances in their path. Even the most exuberant children watched in absolute and religious silence, focusing all their attention on only two points of interest.

    The first was the leader of the line, grand master of the order of the devotees of Alah Alaf, who, riding on his thoroughbred steed, collected for himself all the odes of acclamation and respect that the people addressed to his coven.

    Nazaire remembered the old grand master, an austere and inconspicuous man with short gray hair that had been almost completely shaved off, and compared him to the still young and handsome warrior with muscles that rose like mountains under the refined orichalcum, and was saddened to realize how old she was.

    This consideration lasted only a few seconds, because, like much of the crowd, her attention was soon caught by the large cage parading right in the middle of the procession.

    Inside was a demi-human with leonine features, so imposing that it took up most of his captivity, despite the supine position he was in.

    The inscription that stood out left little room for interpretation. ''The Mighty Warlord, Andrei Drestre Lorto, commander of the Legion of Blood, extends his greetings to the Theocracy of Slaine.''

    The greeting in question was laced with a macabre sense of humor. The corpse had been positioned in such a way that, whichever side one looked at it from, it was facing with bowed head towards the central street, home of the cathedral district and the one faith, remotely reminiscent of the same way some devout pilgrims used to position themselves to ask for the absolution of their sins.

    The head of the demi-human brave must have been cut off and then reattached to the rest of the body, judging by the stitch marks that could be glimpsed at neck level. The long mane had been cut off and thrown like straw on the floor.

    The corpse was not alone. Two puppies -no bigger than many of the children who watched apprehensively- were struggling to bend the bars that sealed their captivity, to no avail.

    Their fingers scrabbled on the metal, while blood continued to ooze from where their claws, now torn off, most likely once stood.

    Although the crowd was not shouting at them, the two cubs were frightened and continued to open their mouths and emit soft roars. There Nazaire could see that their fangs had also been pulled out and, rather than ferocity, it was compassion that was conveyed by that miserable spectacle.

    "Savages," muttered some of the priests gathered there. They chanted choruses of prayer addressed to the heavens, and admonished all passers-by who dared attempt to look away. "Look closely! These are the savages who threaten our peace and prosperity. They are the monsters who have come to tear us away from our homes, and take away our children. Do not forget! Never forget what must be done, for our salvation! Ours, and that of our loved ones! Be merciless, for they will be merciless with you!"

    Nazaire shook her head, trying to ignore those sermons. The woman had followed that procession to the Cathedrals, seeing it heading towards the central square, which led to Surshana''s church.

    Some guards were preventing the entrance of curious onlookers trying to get a glimpse. As was to be expected, they stopped her too.

    "I am sorry, my lady. But the Cardinals have forbidden citizens to enter. Security reasons."

    That young man could have been her son, Nazaire thought. The woman was about to retort, when a voice came to her aid.

    "It''s all right. Let her pass."

    Nazaire immediately recognised the man who had come to her aid, and bowed devoutly as he approached. The escort accompanying him stood between them, but was dissolved with only a gesture.

    "Happy day, Cardinal Toga. I am glad to see you."

    Cardinal Clement wore the tricorn hat that covered most of his hair, once of the dullest black, now almost all white from old age. The tunic of the God of Light was modest, leaving only his wrinkled hands uncovered. Not wrinkled like Nazaire''s, of course.

    "Sister, I am also happy to meet you on such a beautiful day. Come, your presence has been specifically requested."

    The man signaled for her to follow him, starting to walk. He was quick on his feet, Nazaire noted with regret. By now, her old bones were struggling to even maintain that gait, but all her dignity implored her to not let such a small thing bring defeat to her pride. Not in front of one of the Cardinals, at least.

    "Why was this charade organized?" She asked. Talking helped her to distract herself from fatigue and ignore the breathlessness that was getting heavier and heavier. "It''s the stuff of little-order street actors. The triumph was never celebrated in the Theocracy. Never in this flamboyant manner. What If there were repercussions for this lack of caution?"

    "It was the new grandmaster''s idea," Clement explained. "An inelegant way to show victory, I concur. But the order is looking for new members, now that most of the old guard is enjoying a well-earned rest after years of commendable service. And the help the golden order has brought to the Scriptures during this operation has been commendable. Every now and then, the population needs a distraction. And a warning, so that they do not forget what we are fighting for."

    "This would never have happened with Boiardo. The new generation is in a hurry to show off," Nazaire murmured. The Cardinal looked at her amused.

    "Things change, to not change at all. Boiardo''s son, Ariosto, has turned out to be an excellent element, and he has a hunger for glory and a thirst that can only be quenched by praiseworthy service." Clement held out his hand to her, for he had noticed the sweat that now could not stop running down the woman''s forehead. "I am sure our predecessors complained like this about our generation as well."

    Nazaire was forced to accept, feigning goodwill. "Perhaps it is as His Holiness says. Forgive an old woman''s complaints. I''m just worried that it might attract unwanted attention."

    "It is understandable," the man heartened her, addressing the woman with a sincere smile. "But countermeasures have been taken to prevent the news from spreading too far outside the capital. Don''t worry, this event won''t cause us to incur the wrath of the Dragon Emperor''s progeny."

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    Nazaire was not so convinced. But one thing was true: she was now old, too old to worry about such nonsense. The palm of her free hand brushed against her throat, radiating it with a soft, invigorating light.

    Coughing at that moment would have been completely inappropriate.

    "I cannot understand why our forces were sent to such a remote location. The Draconic realm has its own protector. Why send the Scriptures, and run the risk of them being detected?"

    It didn''t matter which way you looked at it, the founder of that new kingdom overpowered the Theocracy''s capabilities in strength, resources and intimidation. And, like every member of his now-lost race, he had the unfortunate attitude of detesting every descendant of the Gods.

    Clement scratched his chin, where slight white hairs teased the skin. His eyes concealed an emotion that wanted to appear confident and devoid of despondency, but to Nazaire''s gaze revealed only weariness. "The dragon protector has left the nest," he said. His face calm, his fists clenched. "Leaving hundreds of thousands of humans at the mercy of the creatures lurking on the shadows of the borders. Creatures like the Warlord. And dozens of others like him."

    Nazaire felt her head spin, and an unusual ache hit her temples. She struggled to stand, cursing herself for her weakness. "Does His Holiness mean to imply that humanity is in danger of losing one of its bastions?" After all the work they had done to allow their race to flourish, in that remote little corner, the fruit of their labors began to rot before they could even taste its sweetness, leaving yolks consumed by others on their table.

    The Cardinal nodded, tipping his tricorn hat from his head. Now that she could partially observe him stripped of the robes of sacredness, Nazaire could remark that the difference in age was made up, for the worse, by the fatigue of the flesh. "The danger exists, and it is real. The new Draconic Kingdom has prospered for a few years thanks to the fame of its founder. But now that the Brightness Dragon Lord is no more, the vultures have begun to pounce on the spoils of his wealth, attempting to appropriate part of his legacy."

    ''And the demi-humans would be the vultures?'' Nazaire thought. ''Or would it be us?'' And, above all, was there anything worth plundering? As miserable as it was to reason in terms of profit and gain when countless lives were at stake, being a realist -a quality that advanced age almost forced one to assume- prevented sentimentality from getting the better of common sense.

    "Is it worth spending time and resources on a possible lost cause?"

    Clement stopped her, inviting her to look at the entrance to the Cathedral of Darkness. "Take a good look, dear sister." The cage had been opened and the paladins of light had first taken the cubs and, getting them down in spite of their resistance and shrieking, drove stakes into their arms, piercing bone and muscle, and then bound them in heavy chains that restrained much of their movement. Thick steel muzzles prevented their cries from disturbing the religious peace of that hallowed place. "These are our enemies, the beasts we fight. The disease we seek to eradicate."

    After ensuring that the cubs were unable to resist, the grandmaster of the golden order gave orders to move the lifeless body of the demi-human lord as well. Not much tact was used, to put it mildly, and the desiccation and lack of care with which that corpse was moved brought a feeling of veiled disgust even to Nazaire.

    Not to the Cardinal, though.

    "We protect the Dragon''s Kingdom not only because of the goodness and mercy of our cause," Clement continued, without for a second shifting his attention from that work, making sure in every way that everything proceeded as planned. "But also because the blood of the Dragon now runs in the veins of the royal family. A family of humans. The old blood, which may one day awaken. And then¡­" He allowed himself a brief laugh, before returning to seriousness. "Wouldn''t it be wonderful to use that power against our enemies?"

    Nazaire saw only two sons trying to despair at the affront inflicted on their father, discovering that even that was denied them.

    "This is barbarism¡­" Act of God? Had not the sacrament of punishment already been inflicted? Nazaire saw weeping eyes, on the verge of collapse, and thought back to her children, now adults. She thought back to her. "Death has decreed their absolution, and freed them from their sins. Let us not reduce ourselves to their level. Grant them peace."

    To be appointed Cardinal, cold blood had to run through one''s veins. A superior and fundamental quality, which was particularly distinctive in Clement Bovi Toga. And it was certain that, at that moment, Nazaire did not doubt his devotion, nor his faith. The man looked at her as the shepherd felt pity for the lost sheep.

    "What you say is right, sister. But I wonder, if you had witnessed the horrors they tell of such an individual, would not your mercy have faltered? Would not your anger have taken over?"

    "Your holiness knows that I have witnessed the abyss such creatures are capable of digging. My heart stopped before the spectacles of cruelty my mission required me to face, and my soul grew hard, not for lack of faith, but because of the abnegation the Gods demanded of me. His Holiness knows of what I speak, for His Holiness has lived the same." A day in service of the Scriptures was equivalent to years of existence, sad and miserable that it was. For that Nazaire had lived hundreds upon hundreds of years, and now that the time for rest had come, only exhaustion remained. "It is not for revenge that we fulfill our mission. It is not to give vent to impulses we have abandoned that we do what we are commanded. The Scriptures are not men, but something more. They must be something more, or the way will go astray."

    "There is much truth and wisdom in your words, sister. I am not surprised that you have been chosen to undertake such an onerous task. Nevertheless¡­" the bells announcing noon rang out, carrying their message to the rest of the city. The Cardinal bowed quickly, showing his devotion, his hands folded in prayer. Nazaire soon followed him. "Justice will be inflicted today," he proclaimed after rising. Sunlight kissed his face. "You say well, sister. The sacred scriptures invite us to be something more. And today you will be shown that in the Theocracy of Slaine such dogma runs rampant in the veins of all who have accepted the Six Great Gods into their souls. A corpse should be left alone... The holy will shall be done."

    "Always may it be accomplished," Nazaire repeated aloud. More for herself than for the Cardinal or anyone else. "May our church live forever."

    "May our church live forever."

    The demi-humans were led inside the cathedral. Clement led her towards an external entrance, which led to a spiral staircase connected to a corridor in the furthest part of the church. Each step taken strangely increased the distance, and Nazaire swore she had climbed a mountain before reaching her destination.

    "Where are we?" She asked, trying not to show her fatigue.

    The upper part of the Cathedral of Darkness was an intricate labyrinth of rooms, large and small, that alternated in a precise pattern, not so well known to her.

    "Soon you will see it," the Cardinal merely replied. "Not long now¡­"

    Nazaire''s curiosity was soon satisfied. Led into a dark room, the illuminations on the walls being the only sources of light that chased away that darkness, she was able to meet the Warlord and his offspring, placed in the center of the room, surrounded by magical symbols carved into the floor.

    The two cubs were held down by some soldiers, whom Nazaire could not recognise. But it did not matter, as the armaments they sported left no doubt as to their belonging. Just standing in the presence of such magnificence caused a rush of emotion, leaving doubts and fears only a lost and distant memory.

    "Why are the Black Scriptures here? What does it all mean?"

    "You will soon find out, sister. Remember to be strong. For her."

    The Cardinal crossed the room, positioning himself on a stool that had been placed on a specially set up stage. Nazaire sat down next to him. Soon, the space was filled with the likes of Clement. Each of the Cardinals, Pontifex Maximus included, stood there. To each of them, Nazaire offered the homage befitting their rank.

    The corpse of the demi-human had been finely wrought, cleaned of any peeling and sprinkled with perfumed oils. The hands were removed, and the body chained. The head devoid of any glow placed in the direction of the highest authorities of the Theocracy of Slaine. A young man with long black hair stood behind him, a sharpened spear resting on his back. His resemblance to Faine made Nazaire''s heart skip a beat, and for a moment the old woman felt as if she had stepped back in time.

    But the wrinkles on her body, and the mortality that was becoming more insistent by the second, soon killed that foolish consideration. Nazaire tried to keep herself composed, but the seat reserved for her was hard and uncomfortable, not suitable for someone of her age.

    In suffering, it was easier to caress the presence of the Gods. At that moment, Nazaire felt it. Coupled with a pain in her limbs that was becoming increasingly unbearable.

    "Can we begin? The time has come." The rest of the Cardinals agreed with Clement. Loud bells were tolled, and a small group ushered in.

    Two maidens covered in slender robes proceeded with mechanical, unnatural steps. Their every movement was not preceded by thought, but by an inscrutable will that guided their going. That will, Nazaire was certain, was enclosed in the crowns that were placed on their heads, the only voice in those now empty shells.

    "The sacred priestesses¡­" she murmured. "What are the Miko Princesses doing here?" The question was lost in the void, for no answer was granted.

    The two maidens were escorted by a few members of the Black Scriptures right in front of the corpse, while an alcove of high-ranking priests following them stopped at precise points in the pattern drawn on the floor, forming a sort of diagram divided into three pillars.

    Three priests positioned themselves on the left side, three on the right side. The first ''pillar'' formed was entirely white, a symbol of strength. The second was entirely black, symbolizing order. The two Miko princesses were also arranged in a row one behind the other in the middle one, with the corpse closing the arrangement. Or, at least, that was how it should have been.

    Each of the branches of the tree of life was represented in that strange representation.

    ''Intelligence'', ''justice'', ''eternity'' were on the left.

    ''Wisdom'', ''mercy'', ''triumph'' were on the right.

    The two Miko princesses placed in the position of ''crown'' and ''beauty'' respectively. The body of the demi-human was thus ''foundation''. The last one remained.

    "No... Your holiness... Why is she here?"

    Antilene walked through the door, taking the last position on the central pillar. That of the ''kingdom''.

    Her little girl... It had been more than a week since Nazaire had last looked after her. The half-elf''s training now took up all her free time, and the opportunities to meet were becoming rarer and rarer.

    "He is the one who wanted all this, sister. It''s part of the training."

    The Theocracy had no absolute leader. The will of the Gods was transmitted to the people by the voice of the Cardinals. Decisions were a meeting of will and mind.

    But, in the shadows, one deity remained. Hidden in a starless sky, forever waiting. Like all of them. And he had no need to give orders, for a single suggestion was enough to guide the flock.

    "Don''t let her do anything dangerous," Nazaire implored. Oppressive music began to play from pipe organs as the Cardinals rose to their feet. "She is only a child¡­"

    Antilene, her sweet Antilene. Nazaire wondered what she was feeling at that moment, surrounded by the Scriptures. Fear? Her face showed no emotion. Agitation? Her smile frightened everyone, so reminiscent of the father she had never known. But not to Nazaire, for it only recalled Antilene''s smile. With that scythe they had made her hold, too big for her tiny body; with that white darkness with which they had made her dress, reminiscent of the blood and war of the Gods; with that love that surrounded her, sweet and venomous.

    She was just like the mother she had never really known, her Antilene. Even a hero was no longer so extraordinary compared to her. Even the most terrible monster was no longer so fearful, if she was there to protect them. Faine and Antilene were so much the same. If only they could have seen it.

    "She is more than a child. She is about to become something more¡­" Cardinal Clement moved his arms, so that one of the Scriptures could offer him, and all the other Cardinals, a chalice filled with wine. "Sister, do not fret for her. The ritual is about to take place. We must learn to observe and listen first." He drank the wine as red as the thickest blood, offering a taste to Nazaire as well, who reluctantly accepted.

    Nazaire continued to look at the one who was her daughter. She smiled at her, hoping she could find strength in her. The half-elf''s eyes returned her salute as they moved towards her and greeted the woman with a submerged but not absent joy.

    ''How dignified she is, my little one. The pride of the Scriptures. The Gods will always come to save us, for so it is written. And even if it were not, I would have no reason to not believe it.'' Nazaire could not have protected her from the outside world forever. In fact, it was too long now that Antilene had been protecting Nazaire. The half-elf protected her from the fear of death, from the horror of the end. The knowledge that everything she had accomplished up to that moment had been for something greater gave the woman the compassion that allowed her to go on.

    "Brothers and sisters, we can begin." The Pontifex Maximus had risen. The six-pointed Candelabra, symbol of the Theocracy, was affixed to the walls behind him and the star in the center began to shine in tune with his words. "Today we officially welcome a new companion among us. Today the judgment of the Gods, infinite in their wisdom, is fulfilled."

    Antilene approached before the Cardinals, and knelt down. Everyone in the room began to applaud.

    "Arise, beloved sister," the Pontiff incited her. "Are we not all brothers and sisters, united in one cause? Let others kneel, for among us there is only equality. It is I who must show respect to her who puts her life on the line to protect us, and all the inhabitants of the Theocracy. That I say, all humanity."

    Another round of applause. Louder. Nazaire continued to focus all his attention on Antilene, who had now moved even closer towards them. She smiled at her, as if to let her know everything was alright. As if Nazaire was the child, and she was the adult.

    "Antilene Heran Fouche accepts her role. May the guidance of the blessed Cardinals guide my hand and blade for the future."

    "Today you are reborn as Black Scripture," said the Pontifex. "Today the Theocracy becomes stronger, thanks to you. Remember your sacred duties: faith to the Gods, fortitude in mind and body, charity to your friends and fellow human beings. May prudence compass your actions, may justice be imparted by your holy blade, may temperance make your judgment wise. And finally, may the hope for a better tomorrow always remind you who you are."

    "May all that you have said, and more, be fulfilled." The scythe was placed at the foot of the altar. The offering was considered worthy. Antilene retook her position.

    The Pontiff and all the Cardinals nodded in synchrony.

    The Miko Princesses began to dance, standing firmly in place. The music of the organs had faded away, with only the choir''s chants remaining to accompany the ritual.

    "If you desire the sacrament, learn

    if you desire the sacrament, learn to love

    the holy blood.

    Humanity will be rewarded

    with the secrets

    of the holy blood.

    May you all be aware of this

    the blood is nectar of knowledge

    Peer into the mysteries

    and the divine will peer into you.

    Be aware everyone

    the blood is nectar of knowledge

    Even if this is all we can rely on¡­

    Even if that is all we can rely on!

    Ignorant one,

    be afraid,

    Ignorant one,

    you will know,

    Ignorant one,

    you will love the holy blood.

    We peer into the mystery

    our hymns are our faith

    our sins are our devotion

    We peer into the mystery

    The feast is about to begin!

    Even when the world forgets¡­

    We will feast

    with the holy blood!"

    The invocation awakened the magic, and the Miko Princesses began to be enveloped in a warm white light, emanating from the crowns they wore on their heads. The light reshaped itself into an ethereal, graceful and uncontoured form, which struck the warlord''s corpse like a bolt of lightning.

    Silence fell, not daring to disturb the atmosphere created.

    There was a gasp, and foam began to gush from the demi-human''s mouth. His eyes opened, and after a stifled roar, the monster struggled to rise.

    "Where...?" He looked around, not recognising where he was. He squinted, and tried to move, realizing only then that he was chained, that his arms were locked and his hands removed. "Where the hell am I!?"

    His scream grew mighty, but no one in the room flinched. The boy who looked like Faine grabbed him by the back of the neck, and slammed him into the floor. Soon his expletives were covered by the sound of the impact of his bones with the hard marble.

    "Quiet."

    He slowly lifted him up again, still keeping his grip firmly in place. Nazaire watched the warlord struggle, trying to escape from that grip. His cubs tried to close their eyes, but the Black Scripture members forced them to watch the humiliation of the father they had probably thought invincible.

    "That''s alright, I think our guest has understood." The Pontifex signaled the young man to let the demi-human go. The latter, unable to enjoy his newfound life, had begun to bleed and toil, but tried to maintain that composed decorum typical of the warrior.

    Nazaire had seen it several times, in many like him. That strange concept of honor, placing oneself above one''s own safety and that of one''s loved ones. An ideal that went beyond worldly things and, as such, bogged down the fools who were trapped by it like a lake of mud. Dirty and destined to break.

    It only remained to be discovered how long it would take, in that case.

    "Who are you? Where have you brought me? Why are my children in chains?" Even though the demi-human was unable to move, and all his strength was shown as mere illusion, there was a certain regality in his posturing. Wild and impetuous, certainly, but also charming in its directness. "I remember nothing... only the angels that surrounded me. And the innards of humans like you who tried to take my head." He opened his jaws, and although his fangs had been removed, that natural predator instinct spread among those present.

    "You remember well , honored guest," it was Clement who took the floor. "But though you took many of the heads of our soldiers, in the end the grandmaster of the golden order took yours. Why don''t you try to share with us what it feels like to have such an important part of your body detached?"

    "Why don''t you come closer, human? So that I can give you a demonstration?"

    The Cardinal did not take up the provocation, but with a wave of his hand prevented further harm being done to the prisoner. "Tell me, do you know why you find yourself here today? Why did not throw you into a pit as you deserved?"

    The demi-human looked at his children, who continued to wriggle uselessly. There was wisdom in him, for he began to assume a more cordial tone. "I do not know. I can only imagine. Woe to the vanquished. Now I find myself paying the price."

    "You are here to be judged," Clement explained. "Count yourself lucky. Usually those of your ilk don''t get such remarkable treatment. But your lucky stars decided to smile on you, because we really were in need of someone like you."

    "Meaning?" The demi-human asked.

    "A sacrifice."

    The warlord''s lips parted in a grimace. The veins in his face dilated and it would have been not entirely stupid to start expecting that volcano to explode at any moment.

    Instead, all that came was a simple question.

    "What am I accused of, human?"

    "Your crimes are as vast and numerous as the drops of the ocean. You started a war with the Draconic Kingdom, bringing devastation and misery to countless families. Your raids stained the lands of men with blood and tears, while your slaughterhouses brimmed with the innocent and helpless." Clement began to read from a list the charges. Many of them were so terrible and indescribable that Nazaire prayed that her weak memory would, for once, lead her to forget. When he had finished listing them, the Cardinal had only one thing to add: "How do you plead, demi-human?"

    The warlord said nothing, limiting himself to glances of contempt in every direction. Then, after he saw that no reaction had been provoked, he began to laugh. Unexpectedly, his was a soft, melodious laugh, quite different from the infernal sounds a former member of the Scriptures had been accustomed to hearing.

    "Do your sins perhaps amuse you, defendant? Or have you simply lost what little light of reason you have left?" Each of the Cardinals remained impassive before that bizarre display of hilarity. Clement only raised, almost imperceptibly, the volume of his voice, attempting to overpower the demi-human.

    "I laugh at the groundlessness of your accusations, humans," said the warlord. "Barbarians, that''s what you are. You call this trial, but you give me no defense and take my children hostage. I do not understand why you organized this farce, after you have already claimed victory."

    "Do you therefore deny your crimes?"

    The demi-human replied scornfully, "Crimes? I only claimed the land that was mine by right. Lands that my predecessors cultivated and defended for years, even when the Evil Deities attacked us. But then everything changed... when the Rainbow Dragon drove us from our settlements, leading you vermin to take what was ours. Crimes?" His contempt conformed to the high pitch of his voice. "You humans slaughter pigs and sheep to satiate your hunger. You put bridles on the horse and leashes on the dog to make up for your shortcomings. Now that you have no shadows to hide under, don''t complain if your rightful masters have decided to disinfect their properties of insects. When cleaning your home, you don''t waste time commemorating cockroaches."

    "Yet the master finds himself chained by the very insects he has sworn to exterminate," retorted Clement, shaking his head. ''''Might rules the world, that is the philosophy of the beasts. And we humans are forced to adapt. Not always, though. You speak the truth about one thing, valiant conqueror. No opportunity has been provided for you to defend yourself. The judgment of the Gods has already been decided, but you may rebel against the imposed sentence."

    "Just tell me how, human."

    The Cardinal drummed his fingers on the table. "This council condemns you, and your entire race, to execution. For such is the will of the Gods. Since they are not here, it will be up to their descendants to decide your fate. Rejoice! You will be given the chance to rebel against your fate," Clement''s eyes narrowed, as sharp as the most dangerous blade. "Contrary to what you have inflicted upon the humans of the Draconic Kingdom the opportunity of salvation is granted to you. I advise you not to waste it."

    The boy who was not Faine, but who looked more like her every second, began to loosen the demi-human''s chains. The assembled priests treated his hands and wounds.

    The warlord clenched his fists, cracking his knuckles, still in disbelief at what was happening. "A fight? You are more interesting than I could have ever imagined, I must admit." He was definitely amused by the situation, and with good reason. To take him down the first time, an army had been necessary. Now, only a few individuals stood between him and freedom.

    ''But a number can be deceiving.'' Nazaire saw the Black Scriptures retreat into the darkest corners of the room, escorting the priests and the Miko princesses with them. The two puppies were also driven away.

    In the center, only two presences remained.

    "Do not misunderstand. This is not a fight, but an execution." Explained Clement. It was, in a way, a warning given to the accused. For the Cardinal, it was probably the closest form of compassion possible in that situation.

    "Who is my opponent?"

    "Me." Antilene stepped forward, the scythe returned firmly to her hands.

    So small, compared to the opponent. Nazaire made to stand up, but the Cardinal ordered her to remain seated.

    "Observe, sister. Do you think we would endanger our beloved daughter?"

    They would not. The Theocracy loved its sons and daughters all the same, and the will of the Cardinals was the will of the Theocracy. As a citizen of the sacred nation, Nazaire understood how boundless the affection felt for the daughter of the Gods could be. As the nanny of Antilene, she knew how much the half-elf had stirred the blood, how hardships had molded her into something more than a mere human, causing her to ascend to a higher plane that could only be scrutinized, never seen in its entirety.

    But Antilene was also her child. The one who cried in her arms when she was hurt, who asked hopefully when she would be able to see her mother again after a long absence, no matter how many bruises and injuries would that reunion always bring.

    The Gods had given her the gift of another daughter, when her age was too advanced to give her the care that was due. And now they wanted to make Antilene something more than a mere child, a mere girl.

    The Guardian Deity had taken her under his wing, and now the fulfillment of the myth would be accomplished. The Gods had never abandoned them, and the fruit of their seed was here with them now. A magnificent gift, which would bring forth the Theocracy of Slaine to a prosperity it had not had in centuries.

    The music would play forever, and that frenzy would never stop. The angelic choirs heralded eternal salvation, and damnation would soon be only a distant memory.

    And Nazaire wanted none of it. She rejected it, because that, she knew, would never bring happiness to her beloved daughter. To her Antilene.

    If her soul had to burn for that sin, let it burn. If the guilt of that selfishness had been the end of her, let no tomorrow come.

    "Everything will be fine." This was communicated to the woman by Antilene''s gaze and, the Gods had forgiven her for this, Nazaire believed it. May the Gods had forgiven her, but she really believed it.

    The warlord laughed.

    "Is this a joke? A child?"

    No one spoke.

    "Let''s finish it¡­"

    The arms of the mighty demi-human opened and the monster pounced on the child. The age of innocence was lost in that precise moment.

    Nazaire couldn''t see what really happened, but she really didn''t need to. The result was obvious, and the cause was merely a tinsel. There was a faint thud that rang in the ears. The warlord fell as only a mortal body can fall, while the half-elf twirled his severed head in her hands.

    At that point, the Black Scripture let his children go. Their now free mouths were the only shrieks that spread. The rivers of their tears, at having to see the one who had begotten them battered once more, flooded the body of their beloved father.

    They too were graced with a swift end. The judgment had already been imposed, and the sentence was arranged with maniacal precision. The scythe passed through their hearts, giving them the chance to be reunited, if not in life, at least in death. Such was the benevolence of the Gods.

    Antilene arranged those puppets now devoid of soul and intellect into a more dignified composition.

    The cardinals rose from their seats and surrounded her. Nazaire was hesitant at first, but soon joined them. The highest authorities of the Theocracy began to shower her daughter with love and praise, extolling her present and future virtues to great lengths.

    The half-elf basked in those expressions of affection so sincere, so pure.

    "Did I do well, auntie?"

    "...You did great!"

    Antilene smiled. From then on, humanity would gain a new guardian. In the history of the Slaine Theocracy, no one would be cherished and revered like Antilene Heran Fouche, with the exception of the Gods themselves.

    Vowed to an ideal of hope and salvation, she would be more than just a human.

    She would become a legend.

    And the love she would receive was destined to be as cold and pure as the most fearsome of winters.

    Inquisitor

    "Is that so?" Rufus did not recognise the face of that Cardinal. The symbol on his robe indicated that he belonged to the sect of Darkness. The muscles of his face were fatigued. Turmoil, that he perceived. Young? So it could be said. Between thirty and fifty. Decade more, decade less.

    It was getting harder and harder to tell the difference, but the absence of wrinkles made the assumption safe with a degree of correctness.

    "The witch was brought to the cathedral as you requested¡­" The man had brought his right hand to his lips, and brushing his fingertips had imitated the gesture of kissing him in his presence. "What are we to do with her now?"

    Proskynesis. A thoughtless gesture, and out of place at that moment, in that place and situation. But to Neko-Neko Yan the idea of introducing such extravagance had amused him greatly at the time. Or perhaps it was Galatea''s Booty? Memories were starting to get fuzzy.

    ''No. Not Neko-Neko and Galatea. Nekole and Imirduo. Those are their names... they always were.''

    His body couldn''t know fatigue, nor could it make rest its own. Skeletal fingers passed over his shoulder, covered by a cloak woven in the darkness itself, before Rufus could give substance to his directives. In all, a couple of minutes had passed before an answer was given, and the Cardinal was still there, in his seat, waiting.

    Even if days had passed, and if he had left him there alone in his place without a word, Rufus was sure he would have found the man in that same position, heedless of everything and everyone.

    Due care had to be taken, or the capital would be filled with skeletons to keep him company in his solitude before he could even realize it.

    "Take her to the usual place... Where we take all traitors."

    There was surprise, in the look of the man''s eyes. And, of that Rufus was not so sure, terror. Why? He should have given no reason to turn reverence into fear.

    The man swallowed, before asking the fateful question. "Where do we take traitors, sacred guardian? We have some facilities on the border, disused for years. But I do not believe the honorable first disciple was referring to this." The Cardinal''s body professed a bow governed by hesitation and lack of control. "I ask forgiveness for my incompetence."

    Rufus helped him up. The mere touch, he could feel, caused a spasm throughout the Cardinal''s innermost and deepest being, stirring both flesh and mind.

    "No, it is I who must invoke your clemency. I have made a terrible mistake." How could have he forgotten? To take something for granted was not like him, but infallibility was of the divine realm and, despite how many in that building would be quick to swear otherwise, the undead no longer belonged to that heaven. Not any more, at least. "The last time we had to use one of the rooms of the Cathedral of Darkness for such a task was more than two centuries ago. Evidently, other uses have been assigned in the meantime."

    "Our predecessors did not inform you? What an unforgivable mistake!" The scandal and anger on the human face was without manufacture. So sincere. So superfluous. "I will remedy this immediately."

    "A small space for the prisoner and the additional seat will suffice. No need for extreme and unaccommodating measures. Please don''t make us wait too long."

    "It shall be done, first disciple."

    His pleas were ambrosia and nectar that guaranteed an immortality to which all those vessels hoped to be filled. If only they had known how much his sin sullied that blessing that men so yearned for, would they have accepted it with as much zeal? Or would his guilt have condemned not only him, but also the Theocracy, and all the children who inhabited it?

    Rufus was not sure. Part of him would have preferred to remain in doubt for that eternity that imprisoned him, rather than approach the answer he dreaded to be true.

    "Now go, do not make us wait any longer."

    Rufus did not turn to see him walk away, preferring to focus on his disciple sneaking closer in the darkness. Foolishly, she was, thinking she might catch him by surprise.

    "You look well, my dear pupil." He welcomed her with a pat on the shoulder, making her cringe at the sudden action.

    "Damn. I was sure you didn''t notice anything this time¡­" the girl fluffed her cheeks, puffing out smoke from irritation soon after. "How many wins and losses are we at?"

    "I didn''t keep count," he said. "Not after we got nine hundred and ninety-nine to one."

    "Well, if we count your win today, the score is now nine hundred and ninety nine to two."

    Laughing was an effort, for his body. More than an instinctive gesture, a mechanical mastering of his own bodily reactions.

    Rufus laughed at the joke anyway. "Do you think your cheap humor will be enough to reverse the factual reality?"

    Antilene brought her arms behind her head, starting to stretch with them. "It costs nothing to try."

    "But that doesn''t mean it will guarantee you an acceptable result."

    "I will treasure this lesson." The girl became serious all of a sudden, looking at him with her deep two-coloured eyes. Rufus had learned to read that expression, deciphering its content quickly. "So it''s true? Cornelia is a traitor?"

    The trust of men was a bizarre thing, worthy of study. It could only reveal itself, and indeed there were many cases where it did, the moment it was betrayed.

    "That is for us to find out. A perfect opportunity to give your training a practical as well as a theoretical connotation." Rufus knew that that was the half-elf''s wish, but he was also aware that the manner in which it would come true did not conform to her expectations. There was an argument to be made concerning the nature of what was yearned for by all, and the irony with which it was granted. But that speech was for another day. A happier one.

    There was no shortage of time for either of them, after all.

    "If you''re not up to it, we can reschedule for a more suitable time. A couple of months? Or maybe even a few years." Waiting would raise their defendant''s tension, and make future interrogation more manageable.

    "And what do you think would happen to Cornelia in the meantime?" Rufus could see that the half-elf had considered that proposal, but his disciple had a perspective that he lacked. A perspective that some would have called more human, whatever that word might have meant. Nevertheless, he would have been in agreement with such sentiment.

    "Nothing. Until I give the order, she will remain in her assigned quarters. Well guarded."

    Antilene brought a hand to her chin, stroking it gently. The space to bring her considerations to a result she deemed satisfactory was granted to her by Rufus, who took the opportunity to review his further commitments for the coming months, assessing the free time left for any additional personal projects. Without consternation, he concluded that his schedule was full up to ten years in the future.

    In the end, his pupil was adamant in her decision. "Many humans would find such waiting a torture. That is not the purpose of our mission. We will end this today."

    More than the content, the undead was gratified by the firmness of the choice. Doubt ruled the hand of men. As much as possible, seeing that his disciple was learning to be confident in her actions filled him with a satisfying feeling, which he categorized as pride.

    "Do you remember what you have to do? The means to conduct a peaceful meeting are all at your disposal. I will merely act as a spectator."

    The half-elf nodded. "Let''s get moving. I want to conclude before night falls."

    They did not take long to arrive. Rufus could see that his instructions had been carried out with particular skill, and their guest sat in a leather armchair, which he judged comfortable, by the standards of the living.

    Cornelia Beamonte Alasia stared straight ahead. If she was in a panic, she did her best not to let it show. Rufus was used to seeing her in the gear reserved for the Black Scripture. Equipment that many might have thought... eccentric. And with good reason. The flesh was weak to a garment that left the most sinuous and sincere forms uncovered, tickling the fancy of an imagination prone to excess.

    "Lady Fouche. Patron deity. You have arrived much faster than I expected," the woman greeted them both with the classic devotion reserved for them. She wore an ordinary dress, but not without grace. Before, her head would have been covered by the Hat of the Wood Witch, which had once belonged to the Goddess Lagusa. Now, however, she displayed her completely shaved head with a certain conceit. "Excuse me for not getting up, but you may well observe that I am currently finding it... a tad difficult."

    Both of her feet had been cut clean off. An extreme measure perhaps, but perfect to prevent a possible escape. If the accusations proved unfounded, restoring the woman to her original state would not have required much effort.

    "Lady Alasia, you look well." It was Antilene who spoke. Difficult to determine if the irony of that statement was lost unknowingly or deliberately used to break the proverbial ice.

    As expected, Rufus remained silent, letting only his presence act as accuser. A tactic from the world before the advent that, if he remembered correctly, Alah Alaf had described as ''the stratagem of the good and bad cop.'' Moral evaluations aside, he was curious to see how his disciple would fare in that situation.

    The former Black Scripture member let his disciple sit opposite her, trying to remain calm. The undead noticed an irregularity in Cornelia''s otherwise perfectly safe and regulated breathing, while her violet eyes were unseen by tics connoted by a nervousness that leaked out of them.

    "I try to cope, Lady Fouche¡­" Cornelia had served as one of the first experiments in the role imparted to Antilene, and the mark of such ordeal left scars that not even the finest magical art could cure. The woman continued to rub her arm, her once smooth and silky skin now covered in sores caused by stress. "I didn''t think they would even send the two guardians of the Theocracy to take me down. I must be more important than I thought."

    She laughed. No exaggeration, no bumpy beat. A way of keeping calm, or the last spasm of a beast now surrendered to its fate?

    "The request was made by me and the Patron Deity," Antilene simply stated. His disciple maintained a professional poise, devoid of smears. The tone of her voice was stripped of all superfluous emotion, letting the facts be the sole component of her eloquence. "The crimes you are accused of are not very serious, but they are still crimes. More to the point, as companions in the Black Scriptures, it was my intention to establish beyond doubt that your sentence was fair and impartial."

    Cornelia''s gaze was held in astonishment. The half-elf''s unexpected response had let guilt dig into the woman''s fabricated mask. "Believe me, Lady Fouche. It was not my intention to cause apprehension in those who have always been so kind to me¡­" Her attention turned to Rufus, who answered her with an icy silence. Cornelia had been one of his pupils since she had reached her late teens, and she believed that absolution could be granted by what had once also been her master. An honest mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. "At the same time, I could not shy away from doing what I thought was right. Even if I had to go to damnation for it. Can you understand me?"

    Antilene only asked her one question. "Would you do it again?''

    "Yes," was the woman''s reply. "I saved an innocent child. Not looking back now. I cannot continue doing what I have always done."

    "You spared the offspring of a beastman lord," the half-elf retorted. "One of the bloodiest demi-humans in the Hills, who had nearly brought his forces over the wall of the Holy Kingdom. A disaster was avoided just for chance. You are lucky his future victims will not be on your conscience."

    Cornelia stood still, her head held up. Fear had lost the inner conflict with dignity. "The captain snatched life from the lord and his children. The other Black Scripture members slaughtered his clan. I killed his bedfellows, as well as their children. There were about six of them. All of them were no older than infancy. I was trained for this, and I never flinched, even then. At one I threw his head on the floor, at another I chopped off his guts, the hearts of two of them met my fists, and the last one I suffocated. In the end, I was so stained with blood that my only wish was to take a bath as soon as possible, to clean myself of all that dirt."

    "But you didn''t," a hint of disappointment escaped the half-elf''s tongue. "You didn''t¡­" she repeated more softly, sighing.

    "The last one had approached his now dead brothers," Cornelia said. She wasn''t crying, but Rufus assumed it was only out of a distinct and frankly unnecessary sense of pride. A desire not to show herself to be weak, even when it was well established that she was. "They usually scream out of desperation. They beg or become paralyzed with fear. If this had been the case, I would have had no problem doing my duty. It would have been business as usual. Do to them what they did to you¡­" Cornelia scratched her teeth with her nails, an obvious symptom of regret and agitation. In total silence, that screeching was an unbearable concert. "But the last child did none of that. Instead, he came and knelt down in front of me. He was so small, but aware of what was going to happen. He only asked me to be quick. Gods be my witness, I would have loved to do it. I so wanted to... but I was unable to proceed, and in the end I let him go. Why did I stop? I... I''m not sure. I was still stained with the blood of his loved ones. What difference would one more of them have made?" She looked at her knuckles, rubbing them. They were immaculate in their cleanliness; traces of further dirt could only have been imprinted in her mind. "I just thought: what if it had been a human child? What if it had been a human child looking at me resignedly with those eyes, devoid of entreaty? Was this the world I was handing over to them? Part of me couldn''t accept it. Foolishly, I believed that gesture would be enough to stop this whole cycle of death. No... maybe I just wanted to find an excuse to save myself from what would come after all this. This, I am ready to swear by all I hold dear, is the plain and simple truth."

    "I know it is," Antilene said, after having listened carefully to the story, after having recorded every little detail. "And that''s the problem. An inquisitor''s skills reveal every deception, every absolute. But there are certain conditions for them to be effective. Do you know why?"

    The woman shook her head.

    "Faith is the determining factor. That is why these skills have no effect on Black Scripture members. Not normally, at least. However, I can now discern whether everything you tell enters the realm of lies... or the one of truth."

    Inquisitor skills were perfect for enemies, of little use with friends. In a world where the religion of the Six Great Gods reigned supreme, they would have been superfluous. In a world where magic had united everyone, they would have been useless. Sometimes Rufus wondered if that was one of the reasons why he had taught his beloved disciple the way of that pact. A vestige of another time, tainted with foolish sentimentality, not suited to its current function.

    "I suppose I was deceiving myself as well... I wonder how long I''ve been doing it." Resignation might have had a consoling side. In the face of disaster lay the opportunity for renewal. "What''s going to happen to me?"

    "The one you let go was hunted down by your comrades, and danger was narrowly avoided. Because you voluntarily gave yourself up immediately after the fact, the Cardinals want to be lenient with you. But your role in the Scriptures has come to an end."

    Cornelia stretched out in her armchair, pointing her eyes to the ceiling. A dull light could be glimpsed in the reflection of her violet irises. "You have been too merciful to me. Capital punishment would have been more appropriate."

    "Many mitigating conditions were in your favor. You have served faithfully and impeccably for many years," Antilene answered her. "That does not mean you will enjoy the freedom you were previously granted. You will be confined to your homes, and you will be forbidden to leave the Theocracy. A list of the limitations and commitments that you will have to make on a daily basis while you serve your sentence will soon be provided. There is much work to be done, even within the confines of the Theocracy. Members of the inquisition will visit you regularly, to see that the impositions are carried out."

    The half-elf essayed her old companion''s reaction, being surprised to find that resignation and acceptance were the only emotions expressed.

    "I am grateful for that," the woman said, massaging her temples. "When I saw you two enter, I had resigned myself to something much worse."

    "The Theocracy is not ungrateful to its sons and daughters," Rufus told her at last. Cornelia had been his pupil, and the undead loved her as much as any of her predecessors. If pain had still been a tangible sensation, it would have run through that carcass he stubbornly called a body with such intensity that merely standing would have been an impossible feat. "If we were to spill the blood of our own with such levity, it would be unforgivable."

    Rufus considered what was the most appropriate sentiment to convey for that circumstance.

    Disappointment? Undoubtedly, in the betrayal of that trust placed in her, expectations that were well aimed at something higher had been dashed.

    Anger? His synapses were no longer prone to ire, and the fury and passion of such excess could not be stimulated by actions that could easily be understood, as in that case.

    Forgiveness was a difficult task, to which better men than he had been called for worse events. The echoes of what were once precise and well-defined feelings reverberated with emptiness in his being, leaving him only an imprint from which he could draw to replicate attitudes that were hardly marked by sincerity.

    "Guardian Deity, Lady Fouche¡­" The current situation made it impossible for Cornelia to engage in gestures of prostration, for obvious practical impediments. The woman could only modulate the intensity of her invocation, hoping it would be enough. "...For what it''s worth, I want to say I''m sorry."

    Rufus judged that it was enough. His disciple did not seem to deviate from his assessment.

    Antilene rubbed her eyes. "You have nothing to apologize for with me," she murmured, trying to find the perfect balance between understanding and harshness. "Finding forgiveness from others is easy, sometimes. Granting it to ourselves, on the other hand, can prove more difficult." The half-elf stood up, heading for the exit. Before opening the door, she recited her goodbyes. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Cornelia Beamonte Alasia. If there is another side, I pray we''ll meet again in that enchanted garden."

    The two of them abandoned her in that place, alone with her faults. Now, it was up to the Gods to talk to her, provided Cornelia was still able to listen to them.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    They returned to the treasure room, enjoying the last lights of dusk that heralded the night.

    Antilene approached Rufus, who was busy finishing his work resting on the desk.

    "What are you writing?" She asked him, resting her head on his shoulder.

    "The Black Scripture biography today sees a new full page added," he dipped his pen in ink, finishing the last details on the page before him. "One I would have preferred not to have to conclude so soon."

    "Do you think we did the right thing? Or should we have been more ruthless?"

    He tousled her hair. At one time, that gesture had been made in comparison to someone whose blurred image revived in the half-elf. Rufus could not recall the details accurately, and was well aware that this was only an illusion. A repetition of useless gestures that found no correspondence in contingent reality. But that falsehood was more real to him than anything else in that hall of memories.

    "The right measures have been taken. Do not fret over something beyond your control. You have been perfect in performing your role."

    Antilene flinched, turning towards one of the windows. Her diaphanous skin glowed in the orange light filtering through the glass. "I thought we were comrades, yet she betrayed everything we fought for. The interactions we shared were limited, so why do I feel this way?"

    Rufus could only speculate, using his own experience as an example. "Compared to the other inhabitants of the Theocracy, we are an anomaly. We do not perceive common experience as others do. From your point of view, the little time you have spent together has been as intense as few others. Yet it will disappear much faster than anyone could imagine. Scarcity makes attachment easier... but this is the same in regard to detachment."

    "Today too will soon be forgotten, then," Antilene shrugged her shoulders, dejected. "I didn''t think the seed of heresy could harbor in the Black Scriptures."

    "Doctrine is not a monolith that never changes shape. It is subject to change, confrontation and, to our regret, doubt. Wavering is not a sign of weakness, not always. Faith in the Six Gods once professed love between all humanoid races. Now, that limited love is narrower. We once called elves friends, have you forgotten that?"

    The half-elf ran a hand through her hair, in the area adjacent to her ears. "They betrayed us," she said, teasing the tip covered by the black mass. "Betrayal must always be repaid, you taught me that."

    "Indeed, and what has been sown shall be reaped. I only ask you to remember that we may all, one day, find ourselves on the side of the accused. In that case, it will be your job as the accuser not to let unnecessary emotions get in the way of justice."

    That was what Rufus asked, on the day when it would be his turn to respond to his own sin. Asking for more would have been greedy.

    "I will." Antilene rested her head on his legs. The lack of flesh did not make them a comfortable resting place. Yet for her disciple there seemed to be no better place in the world to dispel worries. The bad habits learned in childhood managed to establish themselves even in maturity, after all.

    "You did well today. I am sure that by continuing like this, you will soon be able to perform similar tasks even without my guidance."

    "I don''t think I will be able to," she retorted. "Besides, it''s not like your schedule is so busy that you can''t come to my aid whenever I need you, right?"

    "How long do you count on continuing to lean on your old master?"

    "You have an eternity at your disposal, don''t you? That seems enough to me."

    "Perhaps¡­" Rufus whispered, letting Antilene squint her eyes, if only for a few seconds. Soon a long night of vigilance would await her. In the morning, everything would be back to usual.

    ''Nothing lasts forever, unfortunately.'' But those words remained unspoken in his thoughts.

 Chapter 51: The red plains

    Chapter 51

    The red plains

    Draconic Kingdom

    Everything was destined to return to its natural state.

    Inevitably, the physiognomy of the landscape would soon be furrowed by great turmoil. Yet, years later, nothing would remain, and future travelers would see that same spectacle again as it now presented itself to their eyes in that very present.

    Clementine was walking on a steep, unsteady slope leading to an elevation from which it was possible to gain more visibility of the surroundings.

    It was cold, and her coat was beginning to catch a light frost that had been falling placidly since early morning. Not uncomfortable, though. Almost... regenerating.

    She looked up to the sky, seeing the archangels hovering above her. Every now and then, a feather from their holy mantle would break off, making the snowy ground even whiter.

    Vice-captain Ian was giving some directions to the members of his unit, shouting positioning orders and strategies left and right. The Sunlight Scripture members were used to a tactic Clementine used to call ''the flood''. It was the privilege of the weak to use numbers to hide their weaknesses and frailties, and the way of the summoner practiced by the Sunlight Scriptures was the ultimate expression of that philosophy.

    Had she been asked, Clementine would have described that tactic as utterly pathetic and tasteless, incapable of giving a foretaste of the dense and exquisitely violent taste of battle. A lack of tact, perhaps.

    Clementine considered her art to be first and foremost a personal, intimate work. When that contact established in the embrace that sealed the end of a life was lost, she could not help but evaluate the experience as incomplete.

    The Black Scripture woman recognised, however, that from a purely practical point of view, the benefits were without a shadow of a doubt present and, therefore, even if she might harbor skepticism about the method, she could at least appreciate the impending massacre from a purely intellectual point of view.

    "My lady, are you ready?" Elysant had approached, and in the flow of her thoughts Clementine had hardly noticed her presence.

    "As always when it comes to entering battle," she donned the mask of a smile, and answered her with an air that should have conveyed a calming confidence. The other woman gave no hint of fear and gave no sign of being concerned for her life, much to Clementine''s chagrin. "Is what I asked for ready?"

    Elysant handed her a headband of stilettos, which Clementine promptly grasped. "We followed your instructions, my lady." Pulsing with magic, almost as alive, to the touch they gave a pleasant sensation of comfort.

    The preparation of the Scriptures, no matter the precise affiliation, left no room for imperfections, although it was legitimate -and undoubtedly amusing- to wonder what it would feel like for the other five scriptures'' members to be subjected to the initiation ritual of the Blacks to which Clementine belonged.

    That prospect made its way into the mind of the one who had received the name of Windstride, and led her to wonder if she could replicate that prerogative of the Extra Seat to her current comrades as well.

    Imitation was the highest form of compliment, after all. It would not have been perceived as an insult, or disrespect, seen from the right angle.

    "What is the plan?" Clementine asked, holding back a yawn. "Recent inactivity has been unhealthy for my alertness. This upcoming clash is a godsend, to be honest." Sun was setting, and although there was no better way to end the day than with a slaughter, it had to be acknowledged that the impelling sleep could be a hindrance to one''s enjoyment. It was better to be well rested before any fight. An appropriate motto for a well-diligent girl as she was.

    "The Sunlight Scriptures will unfold on either side of the plain, while the Archangels of Flame will control the skies and protect our spellcasters on the flanks. The few ground troops we have will absorb the shock of the first impact, giving time for our spellcasters to bombard the enemies with a wide assortment of spells," Elysant''s explanation was concise and uncluttered, with particular appreciation from Clementine.

    The woman handed her a sheet of paper on which the major points of interest and the positioning of their troops had been drawn. "We trust that the workers and adventurers provided to us by the County of Tiro will buy us enough time to give our evocations the go-ahead to get into the thick of the skirmish. At that point we would be able to overwhelm our foes from both distance and proximity."

    "A classic but effective plan," commented Clementine, admittedly unimpressed. "But what should we do if the demi-humans don''t jump in like idiots in our circumvention? Or what if they decide to outflank us directly and make a single run towards Tiro and the human cities?"

    The plain chosen as the scene of the clash was bare from winter, and the accumulated snow made movement difficult and complicated. In the past it had been the scene of a battle with some phantom warlord who had tried to invade the entire Draconic Kingdom, with only the help of his clan. Even then, the Sunlight Scriptures had put a stop to such foolish ambitions.

    For the demi-humans, masters of druidic and shamanic magic, the lack of natural aids they could rely on was a disadvantage. At the same time, the weather conditions and lack of protection could prove to be also a malus for humans, who lacked the innate physiological abilities of their opponents.

    War was the art of deception. Layer upon layer, one had to become the adversary and anticipate their every move, foresee their every prediction, anticipate their next two steps.

    "They will not!"

    Exclaiming with such conviction was someone Clementine had learned to recognise with particular ease in the crowd. Amid human voices, the quacking of a duck was always easily discernible.

    "Good morning to you, Captain Luin," the woman grabbed the hems of her cloak to perform what was a silly imitation of a high-ranking lady''s bow.

    "There is no need for you to prostrate yourself in such attitudes before me, Lady Quintia. It would be I who would have to kiss the ground on which you walk, rather." Whether the irony of such a gesture had been divested or not grasped by the Sunlight Scripture captain was difficult to determine. In truth, Clementine could not decide which of the two alternatives she preferred.

    "Captain, why are you here?" Elysant, on the other hand, exhibited far more grace in showing respect to her superior. Undoubtedly, her upbringing was not at the level of a Quintia, but the attitude of a student could cross such qualitative differences. "Weren''t you supposed to make sure there were no weak points in the teams?"

    "I have already done so several times, and I plan to give one last check before it all begins," Nigun smiled scornfully, and after exchanging the appropriate pleasantries with his subordinate, clarified what he had said with particular confidence. "The beasts know that to attack Tiro they need to conserve their energy, in view of a future assault against the fortified cities of Gelone and Biblo. They also know that we are here waiting for them, as we have left some of their rangers patrolling the surrounding area alive for this very reason. As I see it, there are three possibilities: the first is that they might ignore us completely, to head for what is a juicier target for their intentions. In that case, we could attack them from behind, gaining a great advantage."

    It was clear that was the most advantageous alternative for them, but also the most unlikely. Leadership was not a vocation that had been imparted in Clementine''s early education, perhaps due to her lack of ability to empathize with the line of thought of enemies and friends alike, yet even she could see how the risks far outweighed the benefits with such a decision.

    "So I suppose the enemies can attack us with full force... or split into several groups," Clementine traced a small arc on the ground with the aid of one of her stilettos, drawing an unattractive grimace. "I wonder which of the two choices will be undertaken? Huhuhuhu, really interesting."

    "I think the first option is the most likely, Lady Quintia¡­" On hearing that name called for the second time, the Black Scripture woman sighed dryly. Captain Nigun either paid no heed to the gesture, or felt it was not worth investigating. "We don''t have a really accurate number... but our rangers are sure they don''t exceed a few hundred. Just enough to carry out a lightning raid and return home with considerable booty. Considering that winter is still full, it''s in line with their modus operandi for the past few years. Attempts at flagging in the winter, so as to make it easier to conquer in the warm season."

    Elysant approached, shaking a lock of hair from her forehead. "They evidently believe that after their last assault our defenses are insufficient... or at least that''s what I''d like to think. But Captain Luin and I have many reasons to assume it is not so simple, Lady Quintia."

    ''And third¡­ what should I do now?'' The stiletto was twirled in the air as Clementine pondered how to rectify such embarrassing and misplaced devotion. "Only Clementine will do, for all of you. Lady Clementine, or Windstride, if you wish to retain the honorifics," she said at last, after a deliberately long pause. "As for your worries, I can well surmise what they are caused by."

    Captain Nigun, keeping well clear of the sharp point of the weapon, nodded with conviction. "That corpse we found last time still needs to be properly explained. And there is a possibility that the one -or those- who shot down the higher angel are among the assailants," a drop of worry began to furrow the brow of the man who made his own self-confidence a boast.

    Clementine wished she could lift the veil of that arrogance at that moment, allowing herself a moment of intimacy with that pious and devout soldier. But the glances of the other scriptures and the memory of the mission made her desist from such enchanting intentions.

    "Just in case, don''t rely on me too much. Even I wouldn''t be able to compete with someone capable of eliminating a Dominion Authority," would have been a more suitable task for that limp-dick balls of a Captain of theirs or a specialized Black Scripture team. "And I confess, crowd control isn''t my specialty either."

    Quaiesse would have been better fitted for such a mission, but he was busy elsewhere, to their misfortune. What a pity, in case of great danger her twin would have been the perfect bait to throw to the monsters.

    Certain people had the delightful quality of being natural bait. The gait, or perhaps the unpleasant smell, or even the shape of the teeth could be a justifiable cause. Whatever that mystery so difficult to decipher was, some faces seemed to be specially modeled with care and love only to be punched. Or devoured, as in that case.

    "We will not ask you to do anything above your abilities, Lady Quai... Lady Clementine. Leave it to us to keep their infantry at bay. Your intervention will serve more to wreak havoc and break their formations¡­" The Sunlight Scripture captain took a brief second to carefully consider how to finish his ''suggestions''. "And in the event that there is an individual within their ranks who can claim the title of hero, there too we will provide you with all the appropriate support to be able to claim victory."

    And while a Quintia would have been the perfect sacrifice in that case, all Clementine could settle for at that moment was a Luin.

    "How fortunate I am! To have an entire elite group watching my back! In that case, I cannot show myself lacking in front of my beloved!"

    "No, it is we who are fortunate to have a hero of your caliber to lend us aid, Lady Clementine," Elysant interjected, with a calmness and veneration that would have moved even the most monolithic of statues to commotion. Clementine almost desired to weep, to return that affection. "Our superiors now consider the Draconic Kingdom to be an area of high danger, and are prepared to withdraw their support if the current situation worsens. Should the dangers increase, the safety of a Black Scripture member takes precedence over everything. Have no qualms about using us as a diversion to save your life."

    "There will be no problem in that case," she reassured her with a wink of the left eye. "Let''s all try to get back safely, shall we? So that the Cardinals can intercede with the Gods for us and decant our glory to the empyrean!"

    Clementine knew she was being selfish, but already she''d marked the Sunlight Scriptures as her future toys, and a soft cry in her chest would have been caused to see them wielded for someone else''s amusement. Some whim would be granted by the Gods, or those who called themselves such, for the most loyal followers of their cult. So the Black Scripture woman dared to hope.

    "We cannot ask for more, Lady Clementine," Nigun extended his calloused hand towards her, getting nothing in return. "Would you like to join us in prayer before the battle? It would be a wondrous privilege for us."

    "I am forced to refuse. My rituals require solitude and concentration before an important battle. I am sure you understand."

    "Absolutely."

    A note of disappointment, immediately suppressed by both of them. Clementine was gratified by so little, for her surprise.

    "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I could use a little time for myself. To concentrate."

    Nigun and Elysant bowed their heads with a synchrony that could not but have been prepared in advance. "I will see you again at the end of the battle, if the Gods so wish."

    Left alone, Clementine allowed herself a moment to get her preparations in order. She stretched every muscle in her body, assaying the flexibility of every limb. Tooking a quick glance at the equipment she sported, the woman of the Black Scripture was unable to not be astonished once more at the relics of the Six.

    An echo in the distance grew deeper and more concrete. Battle cries began to rise from the valley; the ruthless hunger for glory began to demand to be satiated on both sides as Clementine foretasted the chaos that was to follow, intoxicated by the excitement that teased every foundation of her being.

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    There was no precise moment that marked the beginning.

    ''It''s noon''.

    Over half the day had passed.

    When the beastmen finally arrived, the two sides could finally begin to get acquainted. The silence that preceded every battle had become particularly insistent, and each vanguard preparing to make its first move hesitated, almost as if the most insignificant of actions had led to the rupture of the balance so early established.

    As Captain Nigun had predicted, the demi-humans had decided to accept the invitation, and now appeared at the door of their home. A warm welcome was what they would receive and, in all likelihood, courteous hospitality was what they would give in return.

    ''Good manners are important. Better not forget them.''

    The gates of hell opened.

    The aarakocra who plied the skies were the first to break that stalemate, launching their javelins towards the infantry arrayed in protection of Sunlight Scripture. But domination of the heavens required to be contested first in a showdown with the archangels summoned by Slaine''s spellcasters.

    The constructs called from the divine hive stood between the rain of metal that had begun to descend relentlessly towards those they were to protect, blocking that first assault with simply the sturdiness of their bodies.

    The flaming swords were unsheathed, and the crush of an infernal crash coloured the noonday sky a hellish orange; rivers of scarlet plumage were offered in sacrifice to those Gods whose will the archangels carried, raising that carnage that was so rapidly consuming to the highest of evening stars.

    The first blood had been spilled on the high, and was now flowing downwards, staining those virgin lands of conflict with the first drops of death. The aarakocra had on their side numerical superiority and the mobility of bodies trained to plough the skies from their first infantile wanderings, but the evocations of the Sunlight Scriptures were the messengers of a distant and coveted paradise; the proof of an unshakeable faith and a justice that admitted no second thoughts.

    There were three ways to deploy a strategy: the first was a shot in a single direction.

    Under the leadership of Captain Nigun and his elite, the archangels moved like ethereal, imperishable bodies, breaking the formations of the winged demi-humans and challenging their strength in unequal contests of endurance and power. The fiery flaming swords pierced the defenses mounted by their opponents, crumbling bone and igniting skin and flesh. The cries of despair, which tried with such harmless sounds to make the burns stop, were so miserable that they brought humans and non-humans alike to pity.

    In those few, preliminary moves, the horror of war had shattered the mirror that hid under good intentions and falsified ideals the undeniable truth of the miserable world in which all of them -humans and beast without distinctions- lived, reminding even the most hardened veterans of the vicissitudes of the wars of the past.

    ''Eat or be eaten'', the butcher''s shop had been opened, and only the Gods themselves could have prevented Clementine from taking her place at that table laden with food now. ''How I love all of this. The smell of blood so intense to make the nose flinch and the screams so full of valor and hope that fill the ears, just before everything goes to hell. I could listen for ages and ages to such symphonies.''

    Clementine had to admit, with no small amount of admiration, that there was a reason why every member of the scriptures was of unimaginable value to the Theocracy. The amount of magic used to support and attack at the same time, with perfect timing required according to the situation each summoning found itself in, sanctioned an experience forged from immense dangers and diverse situations, mastered by continuous and exhausting training.

    By that time, it had become evident that if things continued in that manner, the Sunlight Scripture''s victory would be all or almost guaranteed. It had to be said, though, that if so little was enough to prevent that threat, the few positives of her thankless task would have vanished without a trace.

    The demi-humans were not stupid, and they had a primal and ancestral instinct, as old as the world itself, that provided them with guidance towards confrontation, towards the destruction of those who stood in their way.

    ''So it begins.''

    Like bells on a feast day, the battle cries of the demi-humans filled the valley. The wave of their advance fell with a thunderous burst towards the workers and adventurers who formed the vanguard of the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom.

    There were three ways to deploy a strategy: the second was to attack both sides in both directions.

    Reinforced-skinned armats wielded blunt axes and clubs, descending their violence with relentless bloodlust. The enchantments of the human blades blazed with blinding light, as the sharpness of their spikes pierced their way through the compactness of the opponents'' fur. The rest of the infantry, composed of soldiers from both the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom, acted as shields to the connoisseurs of the magical arts, giving the latter time to formulate their spells and bring disaster to the enemy lines.

    But it was not only the armats that had to be feared. Would have been too easy and, as such, devoid of fun.

    The enemy army counted on a vast assortment of ruthless and diverse races. Clementine recognised agile tabaxi moving in circles, shooting darts and arrows imbued with poison and other unknown substances, in a race that soon became frenzied with the enchanted spears thrown by the Sunlight''s Scriptures.

    Bouffalor and wolfmen used their greater physical prowess to engage as many adventurers and workers as possible, who were forced to work as a team in order to fight on equal terms with these creatures, shifting the quantitative needle of the scales even further to the side of the demi-humans. The only positive note was the total lack of coordination between members of different races, who acted more like hastily amalgamated clans, unaccustomed to leaving the initiative to their comrades.

    This left room for maneuver for the more organized and specialized teams within the human ranks. There was a special power in teamwork, which Clementine reluctantly had to acknowledge provided the weak with more than enough of a step to compete with those who sported the title of strong. Whether this alone would be enough to climb the ladder in its entirety was now up to them to prove.

    Of the three ways to deploy a strategy, the third was the most complex. It required to merge the many into a chain, a reaction triggered by many single acts.

    Tortle and styx druids had invoked some minor earth elementals, forcing Vice-Captain Ian and a select group to engage in a second, dangerous standoff in the rear. While the first turtle-carapaced demi-humans absorbed aquatic magics in defense of their summonses, those with features resembling deer used their superior melee skills to force the Theocracy''s spellcasters into close combat. Some of the archangels were summoned from the heavens to absorb that harsh impact, allowing the aarakocra to catch their breath.

    The clang of shields and swords, axes and spears clashing against each other screeched with extraordinary intensity, suggesting that the sound of metal was that of the valley weeping for the ruin that had been brought upon its realm.

    The battlefield had turned into a pandemonium marred by cheap, futile and simply unnecessary violence. Of all of it, that was the Black Scripture woman''s favorite.

    Clementine shrugged her cloak from her shoulders, revealing the splendid armor that had once belonged to the Gods and now defied the morning sun in a proclamation of brilliance. Covered in sharp thorns, it might have looked uncomfortable and unwieldy to the eye, but worn by Windstride it proved to be the perfect combination of defense and offense.

    Sins eater, the saber she wielded with pride and self-sacrifice, whispered to her to begin the pilgrimage for which she had been granted. The journey to the one faith that could only be professed through a bath of true knowledge, a baptism into purest carnage.

    ''Look at Captain Nigun, so intent on issuing orders and protecting and ensuring that things do not fall apart. Adorable, in a way.''

    The Sunlight Scripture captain had summoned a Principality Observation to act as defensive support, strengthening the strenuous resistance of the other evocations. Both sides had achieved a precarious balance, and both were aware that in the theater of conflict, those who first managed to advance even a small step would claim victory that day.

    ''The Theocracy trusts that the Archangels of the Flame will succeed in exterminating the aarakocra and secure a way from above to surround their enemies, while the demi-humans are counting on their infantry to crush ours, bringing them into the heart of the summoners'' formation. Interesting. Without external intervention, who would win?''

    Clementine already had her answer, and part of her would be curious to determine if it matched reality. She had to desist, however, also in view of how long the Cardinals'' sermons would be in the event of a failed mission.

    Reclaiming one''s freedom, in the Theocracy of Slaine, required making a blood pact. Luckily for her, there were more than enough offers at the moment.

    ''Now, where should I start?'' The saber screeched into the ground as Clementine took up her stance. Her legs flexed athletically, bringing her body into extreme elasticity. The cheetah amulet she wore around the neck imbued her with a prickly feeling, which stimulated her concentration and speed even more.

    After a deep breath, the Black Scripture woman snapped, breaking through that wall that separated ordinary mortals from the elect, the chosen ones from extraordinary fortune and the leathery ticks that contaminated that sad and desolate land.

    With a placid step, Clementine burst through the ranks of the armats; swift was her blade to flay the skins of two demi-humans leading the advance. The blood that began to flow from the first victims flowed gently onto Sins Eater, and the saber, living up to its name, began to feed on those first kills, invigorating the firmness and brutality of the cut even more, leaving its possessor as clear and pure as the day she was born.

    "What?"

    "Reinforcements?"

    "A human...!?"

    "Welcome to the Black Scripture''s art of war~!" Clementine proclaimed.

    Confusion and bewilderment spread like a disease between both sides, but Clementine did not let such frivolities stop her running. Her saber swung two more slashes in quick succession, one faster than the other, beginning to slit the slender reinforcement of other armats with indifferent ferocity. At that point, that same primal instinct that had led non-humans to war was transformed into a much more common and easy to appreciate feeling: that of fear.

    It was interesting for Clementine to observe how a common imprint was present in every race and culture at the moment when the certainty of the end was no longer just an immanent worry of the future and transmuted into a dangerous certainty. So close, ever closer, that one could begin to glimpse their own features in a mirror that replicated a different conception, yet always with interesting points of contact, of what would come next.

    Because that was the central question: what would come next?

    ''Only that, I do not know.''

    Only once in her entire life had Clementine been forced to confront that inquiry, and the answer she found then would perhaps have been different if posed today. Did that matter now?

    Carving her gospel into the souls of her enemies, perhaps she would uncover the elusive answer.

    ''I am burning with excitement''.

    What mattered now was only to understand how the demi-humans, as those whom the humans of the Theocracy defined and classified as horrors that could not be understood, reacted to Clementine''s request for that dance of death. With little surprise, they agreed, unable to contemplate escape as a solution to a common dilemma.

    Will you kill, or will you be killed?

    The Armats clustered around her, trying to overwhelm her with their numerical superiority. Their sickening breath came so close that Clementine could only gasp in disgust at the stench. Their weapons crashed down upon her, the sound of their screams expanded and the force of their assault became impetuous. With what audacity did they dare defy Windstride, the ninth seat of the Black Scriptures!

    Although Clementine bore no particular affection for that rank, she could not deny that it conferred a dignity and social standing that could not be disregarded, not at that precise moment. Windstride was the name given to her and, for that time at least, she would bring it glory and honor.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    She moved like the wind, therefore. Allowing only an echo to remain at the end of her charge, only a layer of copious blood to bear witness to her passing.

    Sins Eater clashed with the equipment of the demi-humans, letting the fragile weapons of the demi-humans taste its hardness and resistance.

    Neither the reinforced skin of the armats, nor their metal armor could put a stop to that blade that now infiltrated their weak points, bringing to the surface a fragility that had never slumbered, while now shattered the certainties matured over a lifetime, not even leaving time to contemplate the arrival of the end before the encounter with that inescapable fatality.

    Clementine had paved the way, and soon the others fighting alongside her were also caught up in the frenzy of battle. With that first signal, the torpor that had perhaps drowsed them in the moment of agitation now gave way to the blindest of warrior eagerness.

    The Black Scripture woman was the needle thrust under the thickest skin of those who were to be annihilated, and the trickle of corpses left in her wake was the hemorrhage of an epidemic that had just begun to spread.

    Tireless, she who was called Windstride lost herself in the funereal wind that now scourged the demi-humans. The enemies, finally giving her the attention she deserved, began to concentrate their forces to try and stop her.

    Two wolfmen sought to bring her down with cleavers so thick that merely lifting them would have required the effort of two normal men. The slashes struck only a residual image, a sign of Clementine''s passing, while the tip of her stilettos had already sunk into the darkest recesses of the enemy''s defenses, digging greedily into the innermost part of their hairy layers, breaking arteries and veins, disrupting the flow of those lives with their metal.

    The screams of pain that followed sounded to the woman''s ears like the opening of portals to other worlds, to unknown and distant lands, whose wonders were yet to be discovered. Repeating again and again her mastery of an art so highly prized, Clementine was seized by a mystical ecstasy, which the most devout would perhaps have described as pagan and blasphemous, imbued with the divine blood that the Theocracy had come to adore as the holiest of nectars.

    The very existence of the Quintia was a miracle wrought in blood, a fragment of what once were Six and now were Many.

    The last vestige of something that was once worshiped as holy. The object of those prayers was now none other than her.

    ''How far can I go?'' After exchanging a couple of blows with another wolf-faced demi-human, her saber finally delivered another lunge, an offering perhaps, towards the throat, cutting through what united mind and spirit, disappointed to find that no priceless discovery had brought that experiment. Nothing important. The guinea pigs at her disposal were many, and Clementine was not the type to skimp on the discovery of arcana, of the source of all existence. ''Let my offer be accepted, may the revelation of a new religion be fulfilled today, and be welcomed by posterity as a new beginning!''

    In the sky, the cries of battle grew louder, and the non-humans who began to descend wounded and dying from above led one to believe that at last the precarious balance had been broken, that a new triumph could be written in human history.

    The demi-humans began to retreat, as the offensive of the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom became more and more persistent.

    The temperature began to rise, as the flaming swords of the archangels blazed in the vale that began to burn, bringing immolation to the sins of humans and non-humans without making preferences. In a perverse way, that was the ultimate purification. Reduced to ashes, the differences would disappear forever.

    Clementine had broken an encirclement of tabaxi who had foolishly tried to overwhelm her in her best field: speed. After flaying two felines with no small amount of care, the Black Scripture woman didn''t even have to stop for breath, thanks to the blessing of such precious equipment and objects. Authentic treasures, even a laywoman like her had to admit.

    Her rush continued for a few more minutes; Sins Eater devoured every potential victim that was offered to its sharpening, the satisfaction that trail of death granted never guaranteed full satiation, but greedily demanded again and again to be fed.

    An imposing bouffalor, tall and firm as the greatest of mountains, stopped Clementine, surrounding her with a few earth elementals. Beings of low level, but who could prove to be considerable nuisances for a specialist like Windstride.

    The demi-human attacked her with a large war hammer, vibrating it with mighty energy. The blow was so slow that it was telegraphed from miles away, but it was only when she dodged it that the ninth seat of the Black Scriptures was able to witness its destructive power, and the shockwave it unleashed upon the bare earth caused her balance and steadiness to be lost, even if for an instant alone, causing her to stagger for only a few seconds.

    Sufficient, however, to give one of the elementals time to grasp her arm with a grip that, though not very painful, froze her for a few seconds. Enough time for the second to hit her full in the face with a fist made sharp by the composure of rocks and sediment. Clementine felt the bones in her nose creak on impact and the blood began to rush to her face.

    For the first time since the beginning of the battle, she had been able to taste pain. Her spirit was strengthened, and after spitting out saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, she could see the second blow approaching, along with the bouffalor that was about to join in that attack.

    "¡ºGreater Evasion]¡»!" The still locked arm went limp, twisting in an unnatural way, and Clementine broke free at the very instant she was about to be swept away by that charge. "¡ºFlow Acceleration¡»!" And then, it was as time stopped.

    Clementine''s world was still in motion, but her mind registered perceivable reality faster than her eyes could. Her legs made a leap, and Windstride landed right on the head of the first elemental that had held her still until moments before, resting with perfect grace on that steep platform. Just at the right moment, she was able to watch the other elemental''s second fist and the demi-human''s war hammer smash into their ally.

    The latter was overwhelmed by a great destructive force, and exploded in an ocean of splinters and fragments, which dispersed to all sides by the driving force of the impact. Clementine, however, was already in the air and, pirouetting, had extracted two stilettos which she pierced into the eyes of the non-human, using them also as a foothold to stop her fall.

    The bouffalor could only see darkness, as the magic engraved in the weapons began to awaken within his body. Fireballs melted him from within, consuming organs and limbs in a pyre of flames. Clementine was already far away when the charred body slumped to the ground with a silent, almost imperceptible thud.

    "Now only you remain," she said, addressing the elemental, wiping away the last encrustations of blood and dirt that littered her lips with her thumb.

    The summon was in the midst of approaching but, to Clementine''s surprise, its run did not come to an end. A continuous series of magical arrows caught him in the back, destroying him instantly.

    "Lady Windstride, are you all right? It was vice-captain Ian with some members of his troop who had intruded, rushing breathlessly towards her. The man had taken off his hood, and showed a face all but free of wounds or other signs of battle, furrowed with great fatigue.

    "I did not need your help," Clementine replied, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath and observe the course of battle. "What is the current situation?"

    Ian had to raise his voice one too many times to make himself heard in the midst of that infernal din. "The archangels are almost free, soon Captain Luin will be able to lead the last offensive. Most of the wolfmen and bouffalors are still standing, and are dangerously diminishing our ranks of adventurers and workers. But the tabaxi and tortle are no longer a problem, and some of the armats are beginning to retreat. If we can take the enemy leader''s head, we should be able to rout most of their army."

    "Leave it to me. Where is he?"

    Ian looked at her, half puzzled, half heartened. After a deep breath, he pointed towards the southern part of the valley, where the enemy ranks were thinning. "We believe the one who is leading them is in the rear. Do you want us to provide support?"

    Clementine pointed at the future prey. "Just let no one follow me. Cover my charge, and give me aid in case some bad match-up should prevent me from operating at my best."

    The vice-captain replied with a military salute. "Will do. You tend to our lady''s wounds." One of the subordinates put his hand towards Clementine, who found herself graced by the few wounds inflicted. The equipment of the Gods prevented her from feeling physical fatigue, and now that her strength was regenerated she felt fresh as a rose.

    Wasting no time in thanks, Windstride ran once more. By now the battle was beginning to tilt in their favor, and although losses were not numerous on either side, Clementine was aware that it was by crushing enemy morale and breaking their will to fight that victory could be claimed.

    ''It has to be him.'' It took her just a few seconds before she broke behind their formation. Clementine noticed a hooded figure, watching the progress of the clash, shielded from the nearby violence. Decked out in gaudy, silky robes, he gave the impression of being a courtier at court rather than a commander on the battlefield.

    Yet, impressions could be misleading.

    He was strangely alone, with only a fully armored guard escorting him. Probably was not a demi-human belonging to the most imposing races, for he did not surpass Clementine in height, nor in physical prowess.

    "Are you the author of this beautiful spectacle? As a theater master, it does not seem to me that your skill is worthy of note. Ah, don''t worry though; the curtains will be closing shortly."

    The figure remained silent, adding nothing more, just bringing his hooded face towards her. The only thing Clementine could make out was a crimson eye peering at her with what appeared to be curiosity.

    Windstride swallowed, feeling strangely pervaded by a feeling of uncertainty. The figure shook its head, and the armed guard protecting him stepped forward. From the horned helmet, with a single horn so reminiscent of a unicorn, Clementine could see only deep, dark gloom.

    "Not even a word of welcome? Well, if you want to start -and finish- right away, I won''t object."

    Clementine brandished Sins Eater. The guard, on the other hand, drew two serrated blades, and assumed a guard stance. Nothing leaked from his actions. Fear? Agitation? Excitement? It was like facing a puppet.

    Clementine snapped, aiming for the lower part of his right armpit. To her surprise, the blow was deflected by one of the swords. The impact did not move either contender. Sins Eater remained splendid and sharp, while part of the metal of the enemy weapon splintered slightly. An advantage that would bring no results at the moment, unfortunately.

    Out of the corner of her eye, Clementine noticed the second blade was already ready to slice through her neck. The image of her severed head rolling on the ground appeared uncomfortably real for a fleeting instant.

    "¡ºGreat Acceleration¡»." Dribbling her teeth, the woman felt herself pervaded by that familiar embrace. The joints of her body became as soft as slime, and Clementine''s body was already on the ground by the time the blade finished its journey. The wind roared, complaining of a wound that had perhaps been imprinted in the air itself.

    Danger had been averted for only one precious second. The first blade, now free, descended upon her. The tip came dangerously close to her heart, and the consideration that the armor of the Gods would not be sufficient to protect her became concrete.

    It was an instant, a single instant, required to raise the saber. The screech pierced her eardrums, and incandescent sparks flew to the four winds. The demi-human lost his balance, and Clementine was already on her feet again.

    Sins Eater moved once more. It crept into his side, cutting through the armor and touching what it protected.

    Clementine smiled, anticipating the cut of flesh.

    "What?"

    It was not soft, what struck her blade. The saber bounced off something hard and firm, which was not sheared as easily as the woman had expected.

    ''Bones?''

    The demi-human remained motionless, as if waiting for orders, while Sins Eater continued to dig into the cartilage. It was not the first time Clementine had had to use brute force in order to crack the skeleton, but this time she realized that the physical effort would not be enough.

    Her pulse was steady, but being able to move forward was not judged to be easy.

    It was at that point that a strange pressure enveloped her. Clementine turned her head, realizing that the enveloping sensation came from the hooded figure, who had now approached her. The mysterious enemy raised his hand, and Clementine''s every sense gave her a single, desperate warning.

    ''Run!''

    Before realizing it, she was already far away, as a spiral of fire enveloped the spot on which she stood until a few moments ago. Yellowish sparks formed a whirlwind that ignited the air, burning and consuming the oxygen. Breathing through all that smoke became labored.

    The demi-human who was hit by that spiraling inferno made no sign of pain, nor did the heat that should have turned his mighty armor into a prison of endless torture bring even the slightest groan.

    "What are you?"

    Not even an answer, not that she expected one. A drop of sweat, caused by the rise in temperature, began to descend from Clementine''s forehead. Windstride scrambled back into position, undecided on who to attack first.

    The spellcaster stepped back again, letting the demi-human approach. First, however, he touched him on the back, imbuing him with a nefarious aura.

    Clementine watched as her opponent was enveloped in something dark, which increased his murderous fury even more. There was not even the slightest trace of faltering, nor of excitement to be seen in the total emptiness that stood out from the visor of his helmet.

    This time, it was he who began the assault. Clementine had no trouble following his movements, and deflecting the serrated blades that tried to mow her down. After each deflection, Sins Eater continued to remain new and shining, while the enemy weapons gradually lost their sharpness.

    The force of the lunges and cuts, however, was monstrous, more so than it had been at the beginning of the fight, but it was not even comparable to the violence that some of the Black Scripture members could exert.

    ''Continuing at this rate, soon his swords will be useless.''

    In a normal clash, she would have continued to circle around and methodically wear down her opponent before going on the counter-offensive.

    But that was no normal clash. Not only did her foe not give even the slightest hint of fatigue or loss of composure, the spellcaster kept watching everything from afar, waiting for the right moment.

    ''Not only is their champion a bad match for me, but the strength of that other guy''s spells is impressive. I do not intend to test my resistance against just one of his attacks.''

    Reluctantly, she found himself thinking about what Aeneas would do if he were now in her position. What Quaiesse would have done. What Lady Fouche would have done.

    But she was not Fouche, nor was she Quaiesse.

    Perhaps, in the end, she was not even a Quintia.

    It was a terrible situation, entirely to her disadvantage. Clementine smiled, for she had nothing else she could do. Each piece of the puzzle found its natural place after each blow, and a curse to cruel fate was the only profanity she invoked.

    After slapping down a sword blow once more, she lunged with all her might to aim at the visor. The eyes were a fatal point, and experience had suggested to Clementine that not even the toughest of enemies would be unharmed by such a wound. This time she decided to use one of the stilettos.

    "¡ºAbility Boost¡»,¡ºGreater Ability Boost¡»."

    In her vision, the world became chaotic, every dot began to blur and every nerve to go mad with pain. The familiar red liquid oozed from her nose, and the strain forced her to grit her teeth in pain.

    A hacking grazed her chest, ready to rip her insides out. The taste of metal teased her tongue, the bitterness of that day would accompany her for the rest of her life.

    Fortunately, it would not last long.

    "¡ºGreater Evasion]¡»."

    Every boundary had to be crossed, every doubt abandoned. There was only one monster on that battlefield, and that monster was her.

    Clementine struck, and all she touched was emptiness.

    "Ah... shit."

    The Fireball exploded, and the trigger of that energy detonated inside the demi-human''s armor. Once again, Clementine could not taste a note of despair or pain that would have eased her fatigue.

    The enemy twisted in on itself, just to give her time to pull away. The unicorn-shaped helmet had been almost completely destroyed, but the remaining part was as if fused to the burnt flesh. However, the non-human champion didn''t seem to give it much thought. In fact, after recomposing himself, he had simply adjusted that part of the remaining protection and was once again heading towards her, almost as if all the damage suffered had been of little consequence.

    ''I knew it. An undead.''

    Part of the demi-human''s left arm was completely roasted and lay on the ground in a mixture of rotting flesh and iron. For the most part it was the remains of bones, or what was left of them, that sank into the bowels of the earth.

    The movements had become slower, and Clementine was now ready to finish him off once and for all. After dodging the first assault, she was on the verge of making the final counter-attack.

    But it was at that point that the spellcaster attacked.

    A first thunderbolt struck her in the back, and although the armor of the Gods had cushioned some of the impact, an electric shock still sent her staggering, and the sensation of discomfort she felt was only the preamble to what was to follow.

    She had to dodge a second slash from the demi-human carcass.

    A second thunderbolt would soon follow. And then a third for sure. A fourth? Could she have survived that?

    "¡ºPace of the Win..."

    No time to activate the martial art. Clementine found herself struck by a second thunderbolt to the right leg. Resisting became unbearable.

    She could not give up now.

    Sins Eater managed to snap the remaining blade of the champion in two halves. The upper part flew far away. At that moment, Clementine wished she could follow suit.

    Another thunderbolt, this time to the left leg.

    The world collapsed, and her with it.

    What happened next was difficult to determine. It all happened in a flash. Clementine found herself on the ground, her stomach in pain from a kick that had struck her ribs full force. The thorns of the armor had embedded themselves in the metal of the enemy''s shell, and, of course, what should have resulted in a cry of agony resulted in only a mute gesture of acquiescence.

    Sputtering, she struggled to get up, seeing the demi-human towering over her. The vomit that was about to be regurgitated caused her uncomfortable queasiness.

    The spellcaster had lowered his hood, and, approaching, was now peering at her from that superior position. The shining red-eye devoid of any emotions, except for a strange curiosity. The remains of skin sprinkled with a pungent perfume, which made that affront to humanity even more gross.

    "Ehehe... Since when do beasts get help from the undead?"

    The lich was looking at her emotionlessly. He raised his hand and touched one of the curls that fell on her face. The chill that followed sent a shiver down her spine.

    "Every sin will soon be repaid." A disgusting and unnatural voice, outside any concept of emotion. Strangely, it didn''t even seem to come from that decomposing skull. In another situation, Clementine would have wondered about that bizarre situation, and the future implications that strange alliance might bring.

    But unfortunately now she was too busy dying. Doing two things at once had never been her speciality.

    She had always been the kind of girl who focused on a single thing at a time.

    What a pity.

    The moon was beginning to rise in the sky, and it was easy to think that with its light it was making fun of her.

    In hindsight, she could have killed Captain Nigun and Elysant that morning to give herself one last gift.

    To kick the bucket with regrets was a prospect that she never dared to imagine.

    "Lady Windstride!"

    That obnoxious voice again. Was she perhaps dreaming? If yes, it was definitely a disappointing last dream.

    "Lady Windstride!"

    No. It was real!

    She had never been happier to hear that squawking bloody goose than at that moment. In fact, never could Clementine have imagined that Captain Nigun''s shout could have heartened her.

    Life was indeed a tasteless farce.

    The author of that play was undoubtedly lacking in taste and originality.

    A flock of archangels surrounded the lich and its grotesque guard. The undead enchanter did not give them much thought though.

    He merely raised a finger, and hit most of the summons with a blaze of fire that instantly disintegrated them.

    It was enough.

    Clementine had managed to take advantage of that distraction, draining every ounce of energy left, and quickly reached her allies.

    "Are you alright, Lady Windstride?" Nigun and his men were definitely fatigued, and their numbers could hardly be described as reassuring.

    "I will survive," she replied, catching her breath. The potion stockpile was consumed voraciously. "I''ve seen worse..." Never would Clementine have imagined to find herself grateful for training with that living fossil, but it was clear that this was a day full of surprises.

    All that was missing was for it to rain to make that day perfect.

    The lich watched them all with no particular interest. He seemed to be unfazed in anything around him, neither in the battle, nor in those who were supposed to be his friends and allies.

    "The rest of the demi-humans?"

    "Most of them are on the run. Ian is taking care of the few that remain..." The Sunlight Scripture captain motioned his Principality Observation to the front, for protection. They both knew he would not withstand an attack from that spellcaster. Clementine sensed Nigun''s fear, his desire to flee.

    Right when no enjoyment could be gained by such a spectacle. Fate was toying with her. And its sense of humor was greatly underappreciated.

    "Was it that lich that brought the Dominion down?"

    "No... I''m pretty sure it was a warrior in that case."

    "...Splendid."

    The lich continued not to move. Was he perhaps waiting for an order? But from whom?

    ''I don''t have time to think about all that. I have to figure out how to save my skin...''

    How much time would the Sunlight Scriptures allow? A few seconds, at most. Clementine looked behind her, cursing the theater of that confrontation. The plain that stretched for kilometers would afford no protection and no chance to sow any pursuers.

    Would that be the place where she would rest forever? There was still much she wanted to do...

    "This is no ordinary lich," Clementine said, continuing to watch his every move. The undead had turned his gaze to the sky, and gave no sign of life. "It must be some evolution... An older, more dangerous race. What were they called? Ah, yes. A Night Lich, perhaps." That at least would have explained how he had managed to damage her despite the special equipment she wore.

    If it hadn''t been the last moments, she would have complimented herself on her wit.

    "Our men are tired... Even if we were at full strength, I don''t think we''d stand a chance..." Captain Nigun tried to appear controlled, but by now his mask of confidence had given way, and his true nature as a coward was beginning to become more apparent. A pity he had granted such sincerity to someone else, and not to her, Clementine sadly considered.

    ''I''d almost be on the verge of feeling jealous...''

    "Take time. I''ll try to get to safety. Once the capital is alerted, we can count on the help of the rest of the Black Scriptures." There was a bet on even one second. In that situation, Clementine had no other ideas.

    The Night Lich muttered something. "Yes..." He gave the impression that he was talking to himself. He raised his hands to the sky, enchanted rings the only decoration on skeletal fingers. "The woman is not among those we seek. She is too weak. The blood is not strong." The guard at his side began to collapse.

    "What is he saying?" Nigun asked. The Sunlight Scriptures were in position, but they dared not move. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

    "...I have no idea."

    The lich gave them no further consideration. The surviving demi-humans, meanwhile, had gathered behind him. It was assumed that they were aware that an undead was leading them.

    The guard with whom Clementine had fought until recently was now completely down. The undead sorcerer tried to touch him, perhaps to restore his energy, but this time nothing happened.

    "So that''s the limit for now?" There was disappointment in his tone. The putrid skull analyzed what remained. To be honest, not much. "As a first experiment it was... satisfactory. But there is room for improvement. Yes, next time. Next time for sure¡­"

    Ian and the rest of their army had gathered. Hard to say how many had fallen and how many were simply out of the game. Numerical superiority no longer mattered. With a Night Lich as an opponent, the semblance of balance had simply been a mirage.

    "Human," the lich turned to Clementine, starting to approach. He had not even the slightest trace of fear, knowing that no one would be able to scratch him. "Are you perhaps from the Theocracy?"

    "So what if I am?"

    "Where are those descended from your gods? Those who have awakened the blood."

    "You have one right here in front of you." Household Quintia could boast direct descent with the Six Great Gods. Of course, neither she nor her brother, nor their parents or previous generations, had acquired the extraordinary powers of Aeneas or the living fossil, but that did not make them any less special. "If you intend to prostrate yourself at my feet and hope that I spare you, it won''t work. But it costs nothing to try, right? My boots need polishing, and I''m pretty sure someone like you doesn''t lack elbow grease."

    Clementine doubted that bluff would do any good, but ideas were in short supply. A miracle was the only thing that could save them now, and there weren''t many prayers left for them to invoke. She wiped a few drops of blood from her lips; for the most part, the ground at her feet had already been bathed in red.

    "Lies do not suit you, woman." The undead could not sigh, but it seemed to Clementine that had been the spellcaster''s reaction. "What to do? If I only knew..." Once again, the lich had turned its gaze to the sky, waiting for answers.

    ''Is he senile? In fact, he doesn''t seem very lucid. Gods, if you exist, this would be the perfect time to give a nod,'' the sky continued to remain clear and silent, deaf to her requests. ''Perhaps it is the punishment for my sins that finally comes to claim justice.''

    Was that the judgment everyone would be led to in the end?

    The knowledge that every action would be repaid?

    The sign that everything done in her life had been wrong? An invitation to change, just when it would be superfluous?

    ''Nah. It''s just my fucking bad luck. If nothing else, I should have had more fun. Capturing the fleeting moment and all that crap.''

    At least, she would die doing what she did best. Killing. She would have taken as many beasts as possible to the slaughterhouse before she collapsed. Sins Eater seemed to reciprocate that sincere sentiment.

    Clementine unsheathed her saber, intent on plotting the course that would reap as many victims as possible among the ranks of the demi-humans. The archangels and the Sunlight Scriptures would hold the lich back long enough to fulfill the will of the Gods. She couldn''t let them have all the fun.

    Taking the fruit of others'' labors and claiming it as one''s own was reserved only for the worst scum.

    As a final massacre, it was to be made a masterpiece. There would be nothing worse than leaving that world with unsatisfactory work.

    Captain Nigun muttered something. "We can manage to win if we are fast..." perhaps more to convince himself, rather than as a plan of attack. The formations of their teams, the teamwork, the magic items, the spells they were preparing... Everything was useless in front of that monster.

    Clementine was worth thousands of soldiers.

    But the monster in front of them would have driven even the most tenacious mathematician mad trying to solve that ratio. "Those who have been chosen will not be abandoned in the end..."

    ''If that''s how you think, you should have brushed up on the history of the Theocracy.'' But this, Clementine did not say.

    Instead, she prepared herself for one last bath. The only consolation, perhaps the water would be warm.

    The now familiar sound of screeching metal flooded the valley again. The last sound of the day, and then silence.

    Just when the remaining demi-humans were on the verge of attacking, behold, every prayer was answered.

    A shriek of trumpets was heard, and a clamor of hooves engulfed the plains. On the horizon, a swarm of horsemen drew nearer and nearer.

    Leading them was a man who sported the Draconic Kingdom crest on his chest. Beside him rode a paladin glittering like the sun itself.

    When he saw them, Captain Nigun was coloured with hope. "Stronoff..."

    "I have come to repay the debt from last time," the man said, once he had reached them. As reinforcements, they didn''t look bad, Clementine thought.

    Would it have been enough?

    ''Surely not''.

    The last fight commenced. And it was unexpectedly anticlimactic.

    The non-humans were routed in no time. That Stronoff was fighting with a demon, leading his people towards the most fragile parts of the enemy ranks, bringing them on a collision course. Like him, the paladin and his team soon followed, wiping out any last resistance. For a moment, the possibility of victory became real again in their minds.

    Archangels and men fought as one, and buds of blood began to fall awakened by that spring of war on the plains of the Draconic Kingdom.

    Clementine was the only one who remained skeptical. That unexpected help would certainly have benefited them if they had fought against a normal army of beastmen. But the one leading them at that moment was not at all perturbed by that turn of events.

    The night lich had risen into the air, and was flying far away from the battlefield. His soldiers being mangled did not bother him much, but rather his attention was caught by the newcomer, which he observed with renewed interest. A little too much, to be frank.

    ''Maybe in another life he swung that way. In any case, that makes things easier.''

    By now Clementine had made her decision. She was on the verge of turning around and running towards the safer town with all her might.

    Something stopped her.

    "This time the victory is yours, humans," the voice of the undead was pure terror. Everyone froze to listen to it, forced by something too frightening to counter it. "Keep fighting as you have now, and we will meet again. I hope that next time those we seek will be with you..." The palms of his hands came together, and a flaming ball began to manifest.

    It was small, but that was not necessarily a good sign.

    "Run!" Shouted Captain Nigun, commanding his angel to shield them, but it was too late. On that occasion, he was not fast enough.

    The explosion affected humans and non-humans alike. Clementine was thrown off by the denotation of that power. A cloud of ash and dust made it difficult for her to understand what was happening when she opened her eyes again. All she heard was screams and disconnected orders, and a great roar echoing in her ears.

    She stumbled over something hard. A corpse. Clementine tumbled for a few seconds before she managed to get up.

    "Need help?"

    A friendly voice held out a hand to her. The surroundings became visible again, and she could clearly discern to whom it belonged.

    The same man who had led the reinforcements, that Stronoff who had fought like a fierce lion in such a short time.

    "Good to see that gentlemen still exist..." Clementine''s mouth was slurred, full of saliva and soil. Speaking was, if not difficult, certainly uncomfortable.

    "Just doing my duty."

    The man''s left arm was covered in burns and if he was in pain, he didn''t show it. The kind who knew how not to display signs of weakness. Of all of them, the one Clementine hated the most.

    "It is appreciated..." Windstride had to sit on a nearby boulder to catch her breath. She noticed something shimmering, emitting a strange purplish light from one of the pouches at the warrior''s hips. She was on the verge of demanding satisfaction for her curiosity, but tiredness made her desist from idle chatter. "Urgh¡­ They really kicked our ass."

    "It was a defeat, but at least we managed to drive them off. Next time we''ll be able to come up with a plan so we can beat that lich..." At the very least, his morale was not easy to break. A guy who was easy to pin down as a classic textbook example of the suicidal kind.

    Clementine had to hold back a laugh. "Sure, if you want to try, feel free to do so. Don''t count on me, though. Chances are my debt to Lady Luck has reached astronomical figures by now," the joy at having escaped was only comparable to the frustration she felt at having lost. "I''m done with this shithole of a place. Vultures can feast on this dunghill as far as I am concerned."

    "A fair maiden should not talk like that," said Stronoff, puzzled. "But if you intend to retire, I don''t think anyone will be able to blame you. If you''ll excuse me... " He walked away, leaving her there to rest.

    While Clementine recovered her breath, he lent a hand to help the survivors. Many of them needed dressings or healing spells just to stand up. Supplies of potions and mana would run out before they could help everyone.

    On another occasion, Clementine would have found all that delightfully amusing, but her bad mood prevented her from enjoying even the smallest pleasures.

    ''I am denied even the little joys of life.''

    "Lady Windstride, are you all right?" Elysant had part of her face covered in splinters, and one arm fluttering dangerously, yet she was more concerned about Clementine''s health than her own. If Clementine had snapped the woman''s neck on the spot, in the middle of all that mess probably no one would have noticed. But she was too tired even to allow herself that distraction. "Sir Stronoff gave you a hand?"

    "We can say so."

    "Captain Luin is unconscious, but out of danger. The vice-commander is rounding up all survivors. The beastmen have either been eliminated or escaped," her expression grew gloomy. "There have been indigent losses on our side as well. It will take some time before we fully recover."

    "Get used to it," Clementine replied dryly. "That''s how it works. Be thankful you''re not among those who didn''t make it, and promise yourself to replicate today''s success tomorrow." So much wisdom. And so much nonsense. Since when had she become Quaiesse? She was on the verge of checking between her legs, before remembering that it would not help her.

    "...I will." Elysant didn''t sound very convinced, but it didn''t matter to Windstride. Nothing did. "Of all my missions with the Sunlight Scriptures, this was undoubtedly the most disastrous. We lost so many of us, and I''m sure we barely made a dent in the enemy forces."

    "I imagine Queen Oriculus and the Cardinals will have a lot to process." Clementine rubbed her eyes; all she could think about was the epic sleep that awaited her. A week, at least. Only after that would she perhaps deign to get up.

    "Yeah¡­ I guess so¡­"

    They remained without saying anything else to each other for a few minutes.

    "Crystal Tear is gathering the adventurers and workers. If the Scriptures are ready, we can begin the retreat." Stronoff had approached again. Someone must have warned him that, technically, Clementine was in charge now. Captain Nigun had beaten her to the holiday she was planning to take.

    The woman stood up. "Let''s leave as soon as possible."

    The man lowered his head in a sign of respect. "As you wish. We have a few scouts and warriors who were not affected by the explosion. They will act as a rear for our escape. I don''t think they will attack us again, but caution is never too much."

    "Yes, good idea. I''m pretty groggy right now... Can I put you in charge of operations? Sir... I don''t think I know your name."

    "It''s Gazef, my lady."

    "Gazef Stronoff," Clementine repeated the name, trying to impress it on her memory. "I will see that I do not forget it. You might be useful to me one day. Or maybe not. Ahhhh¡­ who cares. And now let''s get moving, we''ve lingered too long."

    It was the first time she would go back as a loser. Strangely, she felt freer than usual.

 Chapter 52: May all rest in peace

    Chapter 52

    May all rest in peace

    Cities State Alliance

    On the road to Veneria Antilene averted two more assassination attempts. Five of the adventurers and servants died. The number of Ijaniya members captured amounted to zero.

    The modus operandi of the attackers did not follow a precise pattern, but more a lightning-fast improvisation that took advantage of a flexibility impossible to predict.

    If the first time they had struck just when the fog had made passage perilous, then the second time struck home the true nature of their journey when their assailants had taken advantage of a meal break to launch their assault. On the third, the assassins had waited until the very night, knocking down two sentries before anyone had managed to raise the alarm.

    Elaina and her attendants were saved each time by the half-elf. And each time, Antilene had seen her efforts dissolve; the self-sacrifice of Ijaniya''s followers in not getting caught, by any means possible, was astonishing even to her.

    By now, the demonic mask that covered the faces of the cult members was indelibly imprinted on Antilene''s mind. Just useless ornaments, unable to suggest where a mixture capable of taking the lives of such trained bodies with such ease came from.

    Killers jealous of their secrets, their equipment was of considerable workmanship, but nothing that could reveal something that had to remain hidden.

    "Damn!" That word was repeated by Dionegis an incalculable number of times. The knight in Elaina''s service always managed to overpower his opponents, but never in sufficient time to reach his lady''s side when it was needed. "No matter how many we catch, how we immobilize them. They are always so frighteningly quick to swallow poison, or to stab themselves in the chest with a blade. Monsters, what is the point of wearing those masks?"

    His complaints continued to be directed only at the void.

    "The laggard knight," Thekla had labeled him. Perhaps too cruel an epithet, but not entirely out of place. The swan knight was always ready to take up the sword first, and only ready to lay it down hours after the danger had been averted.

    Yet even his devotion had not prevented the two attendants from noticing that, every time, his attention was caught by a diversion, while it was the dear and valiant Lady Fouche -that''s what she had taken to calling her Elaina- who curbed the most dangerous attempts, who stood as a shield between the halfling and the most ruthless members of Ijaniya.

    "Without Lady Fouche, I would have already died countless times!" That soon became Lady Orestes'' favorite line. The halfling had attached herself to the half-elf like an octopus, bringing discomfort to the latter.

    Antilene did not know how to react to that affection. She shook her head, and offered words of thanks, but never with real transport.

    "Our lady has never had friends of her age," Kilmestra confided to her, one of the last evenings when the cold of winter was still biting. "No wonder she sees you as a reference point, given your skill and experience. You are like an older sister in her eyes. Just enough to be admired and imitated."

    Both the attendant and the half-elf had remained outside the carriage, wearing just simple cotton travel suits. Antilene was also wearing her equipment, under her clothes. Whether this also applied to the other woman was not easy to determine.

    "I can''t say it''s an unpleasant feeling, but it certainly makes me slightly awkward. Besides, Lady Orestes already has a few female figures that should inspire her, no?" Who the half-elf was referring to was obvious.

    Kilmestra, like Antilene, intended to enjoy the remaining coolness of winter before the heat of summer set in again. Her shoulders were bare, trembling gently at the touch of the boreal breeze.

    "It''s not the same," she replied. "You are aware of much, but you do not understand this, Lady Fouche. Curious."

    At Antilene''s urging, the lady in waiting remained silent.

    "Sometimes, a secret is more interesting when it is left for others to discover, don''t you find? Each piece slowly falling into place at the due time, until what seemed dark and incomplete becomes a given."

    "I''d rather know everything now. But I will not insist." And she did not.

    Antilene remained looking at the stars, for once not alone.

    When they reached Veneria, Antilene could see the mayor''s splendid palace. The fa?ade was completely covered in ivory, extrapolated from the tusks of what had been called an Evil Deity in the chronicles, but which the half-elf suspected was just an ordinary herd of elephant men, unfortunate exiles from the disaster of two hundred years earlier.

    The mayor himself, a tabaxi of a size definitely out of proportion for his race, welcomed them with full honors. The banquet set up was modest, much to their relief; most of the city''s remaining resources being split half for military expenses, half to help those affected by the war.

    "All the major politicians of the Union are on their way to Karnasus for your marriage with Prince Alexander, Lady Orestes. It will be an event that has never been seen before."

    "Thank you for the kind words and hospitality," Elaina had replied, with decidedly impeccable manners. Antilene was not accustomed to the... intricacies of political life. The amount of cutlery and its use was disorienting for someone accustomed for most of her life to eating meals alone.

    The halfling, on the other hand, knew which dish to match each course, from the forks for the fresh salad of Orcleans to small spoons for the tiny -and delicious- manticore milk puddings.

    And as a conversationalist Elaina was no less. The halfling had been taught at length about the relationships that bound every Union family of note, even the most insignificant details.

    "My father told me a lot about your racing past. Many got rich betting on your talent."

    "Ahahaha, my racing career is now a thing of the past. I''m not as young as I used to be."

    "But if you are still in your prime. I have no problem believing that you would still make your mark in competitions... as soon as these resume."

    "I can only hope it will be as soon as possible. It is the task of the faithful to pray, and the task of the gods to ignore their pleas."

    The news in town agreed: the centaurs were ready to avenge the snubs they had suffered recently.

    When asked by Antilene if he feared the arrival of the Equestrian King, the tabaxi replied with absolute calm. War was something to be kept distant from that place.

    "Just as the Great Plains are preparing their troops, we are preparing ours. The end of winter is a few weeks away, until then they will not be so reckless as to challenge the fortifications of Grand Wythes and West Garth in a siege, even a short one. And the sea route is impossible, the centaurs are not experienced sailors, and the Orcneas fleet prevents their passage."

    The half-elf listened to the explanation, with little conviction. She did not allow herself to pry into such affairs, in any case.

    The mayor even offered to accompany them on their journey, volunteering his guard at their disposal.

    "There are still a few days of marching left. The remnants of the winter season are still rough. I would be glad to share the duties of the journey with your company."

    They found themselves forced to reject the mayor''s proposal, with some half-baked excuse. Neither Antilene, nor Dionegis or Elaina''s attendants trusted that generous proposal.

    "Oh, as you wish." Fortunately, the mayor did not insist. More than anything else, Antilene had the feeling that he was relieved. Or maybe the Tabaxi were so stupid that they smiled at any nonsense.

    "Perhaps we should have accepted," the halfling said at dinner that night. The inn where they were staying was strangely empty, and except for a few solitary guests, not a fly flew.

    Antilene had no time to counter-argue. At the first sip of wine offered, she realized it was poisoned. The poison stung her body, a sensation similar to the sting of an annoying mosquito, the effect of which disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

    It had no effect on the half-elf, but it was hard to say whether the same applied to the other members of the company.

    "Lady Fouche, let me heal you," Thekla offered, but Antilene was already far away.

    Breaking into the kitchens, she found the footman who had brought the poisoned wine. A sheepish man, all frightened, who soon turned out to be innocent. Like him, every other worker in the kitchens was unaware of the murder attempt. Someone had tampered with the bottle without their knowledge.

    That incompetence would be punishable by capital punishment, but Antilene found it wiser to let it go for that time to avoid creating a mess out of what was already a complicated situation. And, at least, she finally had a sample of the poison in her hands for analysis.

    "We must leave now. This place is not safe¡­"

    "Our servants are tired," Kilmestra had objected.

    "Better tired than dead," Antilene had replied steadfastly. Elaina agreed with the half-elf, and with her Dionegis, still pale in the face from failing to notice the poison.

    "Anyone who cannot continue will be left behind," the knight had proposed. In truth, he had come to suspect the very adventurers they had hired, who had not checked with due care that the food had not been tampered with. Had it been incompetence on their part? Or was it something else? "We don''t need dead weight."

    Eventually, with some resistance, at the stroke of midnight they were on their travels again, leaving no one behind.

    They arrived at the city gates without any particular problems, ready to be inspected by the city guard. Everything seemed to be going well, without any particular hiccups.

    Except that the captain of the guard drew a dagger just as he was offering the lady of the caravan his greetings. It was Kilmestra''s intervention that disrupted all his plans. The attendant parried the blow intended for her lady, blocking the assailant''s hand before he could carry out the deed.

    However, not everything came to harm. Finally, Antilene managed to catch one of the assassins before he managed to eliminate himself.

    The half-elf pulled out all his teeth with extraordinary speed to avoid any nasty surprises. Then she regrew them just as quickly with a spell, to make his speech not a continuous babbling. She also noticed that he wore a magic necklace under his breastplate, which altered his features.

    Meanwhile, the rest of the guardhouse was, as one might expect, in turmoil.

    They found the real captain stunned in a nearby tavern, completely stripped of his armor, but all in all still well.

    The same merciful fate was not granted to the one who had taken his likeness.

    "Speak," Antilene ordered, once her work was done. "And don''t you dare lie. I will know." Once again, the assailant did not carry anything relevant with him. The half-elf had dared to hope for a letter, or anything that might serve as a clue to the conspiracy.

    "I have nothing to say to someone like you. An assassin does not sell out his companions. The demon''s head will prosper even without me."

    "Bravo, that''s the spirit," Antilene complimented him on his camaraderie. "I have to thank you for making it fun," then she allowed herself a couple of minutes alone with him, without the prying gaze of her other companions.

    When she had finished, the half-elf returned with everything she had managed to extract from him, which was¡­

    "Nothing. The members of the order receive their assignments through intermediaries, who in turn are contacted by other members, in an almost impossible-to-trace chain. He himself knew nothing more than that he had to eliminate the woman in this group who attracted too much attention."

    "That would be me?" Elaina had asked. A halfling was so rare that she certainly attracted attention. Little Lady Orestes, or...?

    "Probably... Still, there was something strange about this attempt. It was sluggish, poorly organized."

    The others understood her doubts, but did not entirely share them.

    "It only failed because of Kilmestra''s timely intervention and yours, Lady Fouche," argued Thekla, tending her companion. The dagger had been poisoned, but both attendants had proved more than once that they were no mere servants on the journey. Kilmestra had not even been touched. The speed she had shown in reacting had been impressive, Antilene thought. "After all these attempts resolved into nothing, it is only natural that our pursuers would begin to get desperate."

    Antilene was not convinced, but considered it wise not to continue. After handing over their prisoner to the garrison of Veneria, they set out again, with the light of the moon to guide them. In the days that followed, a flat calm was the only thing that accompanied their traveling.

    They arrived in Karnasus without further complications.

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    Prince Alexander was handsome, no doubt. Strong and vigorous, he had a sincere smile, and impeccable manners, like a perfect gentleman.

    "My lady Orestes, I note with pleasure that the journey was to your liking." His blue hair undulated like sea water on a placid morning, and his torso looked as if it had been sculpted especially to be geneflushed in an impeccable hand-kiss. That he had managed to impress Elaina with a simple movement of his pelvis was not so strange.

    "You do me too much honor, my prince." The halfling had been placed at the center of attention of a grand welcome party. Nobility and great merchants of Karnasus, and probably many other Union cities as well, were to share that intimate moment with the two betrothed.

    A moment taken from a dream, a moment to be preserved in eternity.

    The royal guard patrolled through the streets, the silver blending with the cobalt blue of the cloaks forming a parade of lights, and the sound of drums and chants made that gathering an ode to a splendor never lost.

    For that was a demonstration of power, first and foremost. A way for the Prince and his allies to show that they were still strong, that the Union was still able to stand proudly before enemies, and friends. And much could be said about Alexander Arrideo Hephaistion Argades, but it could not be said that he did not know how to be loved.

    The food was falling from the trays, too much of it was on them, and the wine was pouring, flooding the cups and the air in the same way with red and sweet rivers. So much was flowing, that one would think there was no war, that there was no danger at all. Only joy, only love and only hope for the future.

    Antilene tried to stand back, watching boredly for something to distract her. Unconsciously, she was looking for some assailant hiding behind the beautiful smiles, the roaring applause, the trumpets blowing with impetus and the confetti littering the hall.

    Ijanya''s assassins had tried four times to hit them during the trip, and four times they had seen through their plans. They had used poisons and enchanted objects, ready for anything to achieve their result; they had struck in the dark, in the deserted streets, covered by the thickest snow.

    At that point, safe within the walls of Karnasus, it would have been difficult for them to strike. The audacity to attempt a final assault just days before the wedding was not only foolhardy, but even counterproductive.

    By now, the alliance would have been sealed.

    ''Still, something doesn''t add up,'' was all the half-elf could think. An omen of death accompanied that occasion that should have celebrated life itself. And, judging by it, someone shared her concerns. ''The swan knight, a few steps away from his lady. The two attendants, who never left her side. Or perhaps some of the guests. Any one of them could be a potential murderer.''

    From a purely formal point of view, Antilene had performed the task required of her. Lady Orestes had arrived safe and sound, and the prince showed such awe for his future wife that he could almost have fooled those present with the veracity of his emotions.

    ''Maybe I''m just being paranoid.''

    "Is something bothering you, my Queen?" Agravaine had greeted her as soon as she had crossed the city walls. Her sister wore a cotton dress in anonymous colors, which did not, however, make her disfigured amidst the ostentatious luxury. A placid beauty, harmonious and inconspicuous; no less deserving of regard.

    "There is much that worries me," the half-elf replied, perking up her ears. The prince had begun his speech. When would he finish? A contemplation left to the wise men.

    Was Antilene a sage? Perhaps not so much, to see where she was right now.

    "The Equestrian King is marching, we are told!" The voice was imperious and thunderous, a storm hitting the rocks in the quietest night. "Let him march on! Let the great plains be repelled as we have done in the past! We have more important things to think about, don''t we? United, under one banner, we shall triumph! Let my future union with Lady Orestes also be the covenant that seals a renewed brotherhood between the twelve cities!"

    The prince''s enthusiasm soon turned into the enthusiasm of everyone present. Elaina lowered her head, blushing like an erupting volcano. She murmured only a simple: "as my lord wishes," before being absorbed by that newfound ferment. Dionegis was at her side, kept well apart with Thekla and Kilmestra, the attendants.

    The knight was composed, the attendants a river of enthusiasm. The knight placed his hand on his sword, the attendants held up their lady''s dress. The knight was in his place, the place he was owed, and the attendants were in their rightful place, the place they felt was their own.

    While the knight kept his gaze down, the other two women applauded loudly, paving the way for more of the same. The thump became thunder, and the thunder became roar. A fragment that turned out to be a hurricane!

    "When the celebrations are over, there will be war. The last one. And when the war is over, this wedding can begin. Really begin." A subtext inciting rebirth. After death, life. A simple equation, the complexity of which even a child could grasp.

    And Prince Alexander was not a child. Prince Alexander was now a king. And a king needed his queen. And with a queen, someone more.

    In the context of a marriage, the wish was clear. In the context of a military alliance, the warning left no room for doubt or second thoughts.

    "Today we sing, tomorrow we will celebrate. The day after that, we will spill our blood," Alexander''s clothes were a reminder. The lord of Karnasus wore a resplendent cuirass, with golden streaks above every light, his pure white cloak fluttering at the incitement of his speech. "And then, only then, when all things are accomplished, will we be able to return to our homes, our hearts unburdened, our souls comforted by our sacrifices, and freedom as our future lover. We will be reunited with our sons and daughters, those we protect now and will embrace in the future!"

    The prince was not alone either. In the middle of the room, his glittering presence was contended with Sir Niles and Mirina. Like the prince, the minotaur champion and the dark knight sported radiant armor, leaving only austere and serious faces uncovered. Faces of war, faces of battle. To see them, one could have said that the field of conflict was the palace itself, and that the guests would be those whom their swords and axes would claim.

    Yet someone was always close to Alexander; a second shadow that did not detach itself from its master. The scribe: Dinocrates. An insignificant little man, whose small, treacherous eyes rested glances of enquiry and disapproval on everyone present. It was easy to imagine from whose mind had come the act that Alexander now performed before his guests.

    Did they count enemies? Or were they counting friends, those eyes? And which group did Antilene fall into?

    "Lady Cabelia wants to speak to you, when it is all over," Agravaine whispered in Antilene''s ear. In the midst of all that noise, for a moment she almost paid no attention, so faint were those words.

    "I will be glad to hear it," the half-elf said. The required raising of the tone was unpleasant for her throat. She was not used to the noise, Antilene. She was used to large, empty halls with only a few people addressing her in measured, controlled words.

    She was accustomed to the voice of the undead, which knew no variation of timbre, no outpouring of emotion. Was she perhaps also an undead, having reached that point? "Honestly, the sooner I can retreat into the tranquility of a private conversation, the sooner I will feel comfortable." And, for once, thought and word coincided. Kista could prove to be an appreciable listener and confidante; exchanging a pleasant chat with her would prove enjoyable.

    Antilene saw the mayoress of Bebard in the right wing of the hall, together with other important authorities of the Union seated on a row of thirteen seats, the middle one left empty. None of the twelve cities that made up the Union could tower over the others. The old queen of Ris was also with them, as the mayor of Veneria and the apeman magistrate of Orcleans. And with them, many other strangers whom Antilene could not identify.

    The queen whispered something into the apeman''s ears, and he saw the fury take control of his body.

    Fury that was desisted, and soon returned to an artificial calm.

    "It seems that things are not going as smoothly as our host would have us believe."

    "Prince Alexander is trying to prove himself in control, but the whole Union is worried," her sister explained, keeping her voice low. "The wedding will not be enough to convince the most skeptical. Indecision is still rampant in many cities."

    "And indecision is the last desirable thing when one is at war. What have you heard about the Equestrian King''s troops?"

    "That there are thousands of them. More than the Union can field. A ratio of three to one, in the best of cases. And that is only in case there is cohesion between the twelve cities. They will be on Union territory in a few days, winter or not. Their druids know how to cope with the harshest climate, and the season is now in its twilight stages."

    A number that certainly left no room for optimism, whichever way one looked at it. Was that show of jubilation just a last wish? The last whim before the end? Understanding how fear caused the mechanisms of thought to intertwine was, at times, difficult for the half-elf to figure out.

    "I''ll have to give them a hand, in that case." First, Antilene focused on Elaina. The halfling had accepted the hand of the future groom, and was performing with him a dance that captured every bit of attention. The prince was awkward, perhaps even clumsy, but he knew how to show off every smallest movement, how to make the mistake appreciable.

    In a way, the blunders seemed to be made on purpose. A clumsy attempt calibrated on a contemptuous game, cultivated on a cleverly prefabricated image.

    A way of saying: ''See? You too can do what I can do. I am not special! You can be like me!'' In the dancing hall, that was certainly an enviable quality. Would it be the same for the battlefield?

    Antilene had her doubts.

    Then, the half-elf could not fail to notice the old Queen of Ris observing her. The magistrate had risen from his seat, headed only by the Gods knew where.

    Antilene had not forgotten that she had something to clear up with the old hag, but she would let her explain herself in private, free from prying eyes.

    "Don''t give yourself too much thought, sister. Remember the Cardinals'' warning: don''t let your presence be traced. Even walls have eyes." Agravaine was... uncertain. Concerned. One did not have to be a genius at reading emotions to sense her distress. Quoting the highest authorities of the Theocracy for the elf was undoubtedly a sign that something was wrong.

    "Is there something you intend to report to me?" She had not yet had time to readjust. Antilene decided to leave that party behind and have her stepsister accompany her to her flats. The silence was almost the natural echo of the king''s palace.

    On that particular occasion, a treat for the mind.

    Agravaine sighed, ridding herself of any doubts that gripped her. "Soon you will understand," both eyes were dull, worried. The dark circles were only evident to the half-elf at that moment when they were finally alone.

    The two of them entered the flats reserved for Evasha''s delegation. As simple and cozy as when Antilene had left it. Six people were waiting for them inside.

    Radish, Prika and Rucola, the freed slaves of Erya Uzruth, waited at the sides, confabulating among themselves. The flames of the fireplace near them threw a benevolent warmth, with the occasional spark daring to venture outside that small realm of fire. When the three saw their liberator cross the threshold of the house, they did not utter a word, but bowed respectfully.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    "My lady, it is good to know that you have returned safely." Etienne and Melody, instead, greeted her with unusual sobriety.

    The maid had her hair up in a modest bonnet, with just a few fiery red wisps gracing the skin of the forehead. She hurriedly slipped the overcoat off her mistress''s shoulders, folding it carefully on a coat hanger attached to the wall. Not a word more than necessary was spoken, which suggested to Antilene that something was not quite in place.

    The butler, after a further bow, handed her a rectangular envelope. "It arrived here a few days ago," he said, calm and composed, but with a slight tremor in his hands. The collar of his tie was a few inches off, which for Etienne was comparable to walking around completely naked in a square. "We kept it, not being sure it was something reserved for you, your Highness. We hope we have not performed an unwelcome act."

    Antilene opened it, intrigued, letting out a whistle of surprise at the content. "Nothing to worry about," she comforted them. Etienne and Melody alike, with kind words, words that perhaps sounded false, spoken by her. "I had almost forgotten. An artist wanted to pay homage to me with a portrait, and I see it came faster than I expected. I imagine he availed himself of the help of some demi-humans capable of flight."

    The dwarf had fulfilled his promise. Even to a layman of art, that work certainly caught the attention.

    ''''''Selene'' or ''Sleeping with open eyes''''''. Antilene read the title aloud. Of the two she found the second one more likable.

    It was like looking in a mirror, and at the same time like looking at a stranger. The maiden who looked sighing in the window was an artifice that only vaguely resembled Antilene. A construct that had little to do with the original, starting with the ears, round and plump. The maiden gazed at a full moon, which glittered with a pearly light on her cheeks, whitening her with purity. The dress, also shining white, was decorated with black stars. Black like the night that served as a background.

    On her head, resting on wavy hair that reproduced the symmetry of reality, was a diadem in the shape of a half-full moon.

    Also, of course, completely white. Except for just two thin dark lines that divided its surface into several parts, all of them equal.

    She was no warrior, that maiden. She did not have the dirt of blood, the embrace of death, sunning her. She carried no weapons in her hands, no corpse trailing behind her, but only a strange block of paper between her left fingers rested. Writings? Poems? Artists could perhaps only see others as souls bent on creation as themselves.

    The right hand was turned towards the moon, in a vain attempt to touch it. Without ever grazing it, a movement that was caught in an eternal reaching out.

    "Is that supposed to be you?" Agravaine inspected the portrait, looking doubtful. Did her eyes see what Antilene''s eyes saw? Or a different, albeit familiar, image? "She doesn''t have elf ears."

    "No," Antilene repeated, dry tone, voice devoid of flutter. ''''She doesn''t have them." In a way, it was a wish that came true.

    Her sister lowered her gaze. The specter of sadness leaked disappointment. But not towards Antilene, no. More towards herself. "Any particular reason for this difference?"

    "None. I simply had my ears covered, as always." Antilene touched her hair, which covered the sides of her head. As always. "The magic earrings disguised my features. The artist must have mistaken me for a human."

    "...I see." Her sister added no more.

    "You came very well, my queen," Melody said, admiring that artistic piece, breaking a peace that had turned to ice. The tension running through her body had not dissipated, even though she was trying, perhaps foolishly, to show herself to be stronger than she was. "We should have it hung in the royal palace, once we get back to Crescent Lake."

    "It would certainly be worthy of observation by all your subjects," agreed Etienne. The butler adjusted the flaps of the cloth jacket he wore, not without showing some reticence. "Of course, the Queen has the final say in the matter."

    "I''ll think about it," Antilene placed the picture back in Agravaine''s hands, unable to shake a bad feeling off his face. The impression was akin to being watched from afar, only to find oneself being greeted by nothing every time she turned around. "But now there''s more you want to tell me, isn''t there? Why else would he be here? It''s certainly not a social call that brought you here brother, is it?"

    Feeling called in, the last person left in the room made concrete the presence he had hitherto minimized.

    Logem stood up from the chair he was sitting in, continuing to sip the tea he was drinking. The aroma was very fruity, and from her position Antilene could tell that there was more sugar than liquid in that cup.

    "It pleases me to see that you are in good shape, sister. We have been apart for a short time, yet I could not help but worry about you." For a moment, it seemed as if the elf was about to stretch out his arms to hug her. Embarrassment prevented them both from making a gesture that would only have brought discomfort. Instead, with his free hand, he adjusted the piece of cloth that covered part of his face.

    "I am also glad to see you healthy and ... with a new look."

    Logem was at the moment wearing an eye patch, covering the scar which normally furrowed his missing eye.. Strange, because her brother had never hidden his wound since she had known him. Not an excessively long time, it had to be admitted.

    "How''s your journey of ... discovery?" His attempts to appear caring made him clumsy, but not in a detestable way. Was he¡­ cute? No, that was not the right definition. "Have you managed to find what you were looking for, in these neighboring kingdoms?"

    "Not yet, but I am in no hurry. However, something tells me it is not to learn of my state of mind that you have rushed to this place." The expressions of Agravaine and Melody and Etienne spoke volumes. As well as that of Radish and the ex-slaves. Each of them was holding their breath, waiting for an answer from Logem. "Brother, why did you leave Evasha? Was it not your duty to take care of the elves'' affairs while I was away? Take care of our father''s other children?"

    Duty was sewn like a tailor-made suit, for some individuals. Antilene did not claim to be a skilled weaver, nor did she know anything about spinning, but she had learned to recognise that particular seam on others, perhaps using herself as a role model.

    And Logem -her brother- was made of that same yarn. It was one of the reasons she liked him.

    "Our brothers and sisters are fine. Ruri takes care of them. They will all become great warriors if they wish. Or diplomats, or artists, or farmers. The possibilities for them are endless," he smiled, with a note of melancholy, eclipsed by genuine happiness. Logem had inherited their late father''s smile, ruthless and macabre. Yet, Antilene still found it warm. And Agravaine with her. There was something familiar and comforting about it, however strange it might have been.

    Their sister had approached the eldest, nodding placidly at his speech. "The only sister I worry about now is here before me," Logem continued. "A sister to whom I owe an unpayable debt, and who needs to be warned."

    Evidently, the elf was not talking about Agravaine. Etienne and Melody took their leave, sensing that this was a situation that should remain as private as possible, followed by the Radish, Prika and Rucola.

    "As I have explained to you before, you do not owe me anything. Our late father offended me first, and I merely returned to him what he had sown." Endless gratitude could become bothersome. Everything required a certain measure, a gauguin that made it balanced. Decem Hougan''s offsprings, however, lived in excess, even without realizing it. A legacy difficult to part with. "But if you have something to report to me, speak up. Your concerns will be mine too."

    Logem put down his cup, and cleared his throat. His breath tasted of caramel, sweet and delicate. A remarkable contrast to the image he projected of himself.

    "The Forest of Evasha has been struck by the flames of madness," the grave tone did not herald celebrations. "Four villages were found completely in the grip of orgiastic ecstasy, consumed by an irrational fire that flayed away any semblance of lucidity. The survivors lost their wits, their reason forsaken for the sake of lunacy, their health abandoned for the pleasure that knows no rest; and these were the lucky ones. A large part of the victims turned into the undead, beasts with no rationality and nothing to do with the living. Only one phrase kept being repeated: ''the five fingers are coming''."

    "Five fingers? Is this a joke?" Logem''s face did not communicate hilarity. Agravaine, too, remained serious. "Are you telling me that some villages have seen elves turn undead at any moment? Without anyone being able to do anything?" The half-elf snapped her fingers. "Just like that, from one instant to the next?"

    Her brother nodded. "Before your arrival, there were other apparitions of the undead in the forest. More than usual, but nothing to presage anything sinister. This time, it was a lightning strike. In fact, we believe it happened simultaneously in the various locations, judging by the proximity between the affected villages. It''s possible that it was just one magic. A single, relentless attack. Some, and mind you I am not among them, believe that our father''s death broke something. However great his perversity, it is undeniable that Decem Hougan''s presence acted as a scarecrow for even the most terrible creatures of this world."

    Creatures that had now awoken? Or had they only shown up to claim something lost?

    Antilene observed the hand, repeating those words. "Five fingers. Apparitions of the undead." An unpleasant memory clouded her mind. Something led her to look once more at the portrait, which had been placed on a nearby table. The hand approaching the moon had grown strangely paler, almost devoid of color. An impression caused by suggestion? "This is not the first time I have encountered such an event. In the past, I personally dealt with the perpetrators of such havoc. I don''t understand. What does this have to do with me?"

    "Your name has been repeated by some survivors. In... flattering tones, though I don''t think you''d like to hear them. Far too flattering."

    "And...?" Antilene urged him on, not failing to notice his fingers drumming on the table near them, which he had approached. In that room where a pleasant winter breeze blew, the drops of sweat that beaded his forehead were unusual and out of place.

    Her brother took a few seconds to continue. Antilene wondered what was troubling him so much. He had resisted the Theocracy''s troops for years, poised between two fires, that of humans and that of the old king. He had faced Decem Hougan, the one who knew no defeat, the one who had always reigned on the sea of trees, the one who made lords of dragons, beasts and men alike kneel, contributing to his defeat. Logem was no coward, but even the bravest knew how to falter when the stakes were someone they cared about.

    And that someone, Antilene eventually understood, was her.

    In the end, it was Agravaine who spoke.

    "Why don''t you go back to Evasha? We can better investigate what is happening, and take the necessary precautions to protect you."

    That was what this was all about. The half-elf didn''t know whether to be moved, or irritated.

    "We will also warn the Cardinals. We will request all the help we need. We will not leave you alone. But we must return home." That was what Agravaine could not understand.

    There was no home to return to. Not for her, at least.

    Antilene sat down in one of the armchairs, rubbing her eyes. "Protect me?" The half-elf let out a small laugh. "If something out there is capable of killing me, you certainly won''t be able to make a difference. Rather, you would only put yourselves in unnecessary danger. Evasha is not my problem, I have always been clear about that. And the Theocracy would be safer without me, if what you report is true."

    "But the Union is not your home either... you are only convenient to them because of your strength. You are an asset to be exploited, not someone to be appreciated."

    For once, her sister was right. But that did not mean that what she asserted was shared by Antilene.

    "I don''t see what difference it makes. I never claimed to be one of them. I''m just a guest repaying a courtesy. Without me, this sandcastle is doomed to collapse."

    "Yes," agreed Logem, pointing his scarlet eye -the good one- at her. "If what Agravaine told me is true, you are their only hope. I can feel sympathy for their cause, because it was mine until recently. Nevertheless, I cannot ignore the danger that threatens my family. Nations are destined to fall. It is cyclical. These territories were once divided between the old Empire of Red and the Great Plains. I myself have ventured with my old comrades through many of these lands, seeing them first collapse and then, slowly, regenerate.

    "This Equestrian King I''ve heard about is doing nothing but trying to bring things back to an earlier state. A return to the past, however foolish, is understandable. Many races share this... nostalgia. A clinging to something that is now distant for them. Something they never knew, but was only handed down to them in tales and legends."

    "And after the Union, after the reign of the Equestrian King, something else will come," sentenced Agravaine. "A new empire, or a new federation. Ruled by a tyrant, or a luminary. It won''t matter, because what comes next will be replaced, what will be called eternal will instead be on the sunset path before it even lets out its first breath. As was our father''s reign. As the Theocracy of Slaine will be. The perspective of our people had been distorted by grief, but now the clarity of reality is evident."

    An eternal kingdom had collapsed once before, and Antilene was the one who put an end to that madness. In truth, some might have proclaimed that the Hougan dynasty had not died out, and continued to live on. It continued to live on with her. It continued to live with Agravaine, with Logem. And with all the children of the Eternal King.

    Strangely enough, her father came to mind. And the pride he had felt when he had seen Antilene descend into the royal palace. In that moment, even Decem Hougan had shown a flicker of love, however perverse, however out of all compassionate affection. A love born of the understanding that his dynasty, his name, would not perish with him. That the Hougan name would finally become immortal.

    A curse, perhaps? Which even magic could not cure. The apple was destined never to fall far from the tree, and that knowledge would accompany the half-elf for the rest of her days. The knowledge that Decem Hougan still lived within her. As had her mother, Faine.

    "What you say is true," Antilene could understand her siblings'' perspective, so many times she had experienced the results on her own skin. Why protect something destined to wither before even enjoying its beauty? In the moment allowed to appreciate its fruits, the taste had already been forgotten, leaving only bitterness on the tongue. "But this is also a human nation, however small its percentage. My oath requires me to protect it."

    One day she might return to the lands of the Theocracy, and find nothing of what she had loved so much. Did it not make it worth protecting? Even with the knowledge that she could forget everything, that today''s intensity would be tomorrow''s indifference.

    "Is there nothing we can say to change your mind?"

    "I''m afraid not."

    Agravaine turned to their brother, who maintained a stoic demeanor. "What should we do?"

    He remained in contemplation, lost in some dark thought. "What are you aiming at, Antilene? After you eliminate the Equestrian King and save the Union, where will you go? This part of the world is friendly to humanoids, but outside these borders humans are increasingly a minority at best. At worst, well, the Theocracy''s golden girl is certainly better informed than I am."

    Part of her knew they were right. With her selfishness she risked endangering not only Evasha, but also the Theocracy. The Cardinals, the Scriptures, Rufus.

    "For now, I''d like to explore. Nothing more. After being idle for so long I feel the need to stretch my legs. And I want to find out more about our father... I feel there are still many details that escape me."

    Logem exchanged a defeated look with Agravaine, then lifted the bandage, showing the scar in all its beauty. "Our father was the kind of parent who would leave his dying son to be torn apart by the beasts of the forest, just because he did not consider him equal to the valiant and strong lineage of the elves. Truth be told, I don''t think there was ever anyone who could claim his respect," he stroked his now-decaying skin with his index finger. "This eye was once black. Just like one of his own. That time I was saved by a miracle, a mere twist of fate. And I decided I would never open it again. Some might call my vision incomplete, missing a key piece. Perhaps they are right... Not that it matters much now. Decem Hougan is dead."

    "He is dead, yes. But there is still so much we don''t know about him. His power was greater than even the descendants of the Gods, and rivaled the dragons of old."

    "Does it really matter that much? Agravaine lived with him, for some time. And he never let slip a detail about his origins."

    Their sister darkened, perhaps going back to long-buried memories. "He put the elves on an ivory pedestal. Or at least the idea he had about them. Their strength would allow him to conquer the world, he used to say. The world that was rightfully his and had been taken from him. Decem Hougan was not a complicated personality who needed to be understood. He was a cruel, compassionless megalomaniac who never showed the slightest ounce of love for anyone but himself."

    "And yet... I feel something is still escaping me." Antilene could not describe it. Ever since she had killed her father, her life had been complete, and at the same time missing something. A fundamental piece. As if everything that had led her to that point had not been fully accomplished. It was a feeling similar to arriving at the end of a book with more questions than at the beginning, by the author''s deliberate choice. "I don''t expect you to understand. And I am grateful that you care for me. But even if I return to Evasha, this mysterious enemy could strike at any time, as you have well said. At that point, I would be better off in a place where the consequences would not be catastrophic for those close to me."

    "Yes, but you would also find yourself alone," Agravaine retorted, visibly worried. "Logem, try to talk some sense into her."

    "She''s made up her mind by now, don''t you see? We just have to accept it."

    "Glad you understand."

    Agravaine poured herself a glass of wine, defeated. The red liquid flowed into the crystal glass like a cascade of tears. "I have two fools for siblings. Totally inconsiderate. You might as well walk around with a target on you. And I am more stupid than the two of you combined for not trying to stop you."

    Logem settled for a second cup of tea, with four lumps of sugar promptly added. For Antilene, Melody and Etienne had made coffee before she arrived, coffee that by now had grown lukewarm, but was not for that to be unwelcomed.

    "That doesn''t mean we won''t do everything in our power to help you, dear sister. You are still our Queen, and I do not want our people to mourn their beloved sovereign only after a few months. The surge of emotions might be too much."

    Logem''s warning was sensible. Antilene found nothing to contradict it.

    "I''m all ears," said the half-elf, admittedly a little concerned. Not for herself, of course. "Do not think I am underestimating the matter, for I am not. I would say that it is vital that we start exchanging all the information we have, so that we can study a countermeasure. For my part, the incident I came across years ago involved the total transformation of the population of a Theocracy citadel with hordes of undead. At the time, an extremely dangerous lich was behind the affair," a Night Lich, to be precise. A Night Lich who had set out to be innocent, now that she thought about it. At the time, she had considered it a simple lie to deflect her. And yet...

    "A lich¡­" Logem spun the now empty cup with a teaspoon, clinking the porcelain with the iron. "I encountered one too, before I met you."

    Agravaine looked at him with surprise. "You never told me that."

    Their brother did something that Antilene had judged impossible before and blushed. "It was not something to brag about. I was completely at her mercy, as much as it pains me to admit it," the two women avoided insisting on that point, leaving him room to breathe. "There might be a connection, actually. Although... there''s more to it than that."

    "What?" The half-elf asked, intrigued.

    "Argland. I still have contacts there, and I usually exchange information with the dragon lords of the council. An old companion of mine is currently on a mission in an eastern kingdom under their orders. Apparently, there were similar incidents to ours there as well."

    "Argland¡­" the nation was well known to Antilene. Her shackles had also been forged in the past with the blessing of that young nation. "Does that mean you are in contact with the son of the Dragon Emperor?"

    Antilene observed her brother hesitate. At that moment, there was no longer any blood bond. It was a member of Slaine''s Theocracy and one of the hated non-humans who confronted each other. Trust had been replaced by an ancient suspicion beyond them, whose origins dated back to a time even more remote than themselves.

    "No, don''t say anything," the half-elf came to understand that some things were better left unsaid. As long as hidden, knots could be avoided coming to the comb. "I don''t want to put you in an unseemly position. Let us dwell on what you have reported. If it is not lies, there must be a pattern we ignore. The Theocracy, Evasha and now this other addition. What do they have in common? Do you have any ideas?"

    Logem shrugged, Agravaine with him. "We can only speculate, but if there is a thread, I cannot discern it. We are missing a few pieces, I am afraid. Nothing rules out the possibility that other cases may have occurred in places unknown to us. The world is big. Too big for us to know every single nook and cranny."

    "It would look like we are facing a dead end."

    It was annoying to be left in the dark, with no candle to give any illumination.

    Antilene felt the need to get up, to breathe clean air. The window was opened, and the music of the engagement party, until then only an almost inaudible background hum, deafened the three elves.

    "The celebrations continue, at least outside. It almost seems as if there is no danger out there. That the war is just a dream to be forgotten, to be left behind in some fog of memory."

    The square of the Black Blade could be seen, packed with people. It was hard to believe that the place had only recently been the scene of numerous battles. Now, however, merchants took advantage of it to trade goods and promote their products, while bards sang the heroic deeds of Prince Alexander and those who had liberated the city.

    The population participated in their rulers'' festivities as much as they could. However, guards patrolled every corner, and worry laced their faces. That facade had been artificially built, and just as easily could have been ended.

    "That reminds me, Kista was expecting me, right sister?"

    Agravaine nodded. "She must have retired to her room by now. But I can send someone to check if she is ready to receive you."

    "No, that will be fine. At worst, I will have wasted some time." The journey, though short, would allow her to be alone for the time it took to get her head in order. "Logem, what are you going to do?"

    "I will wait for your return, and then we will talk about our future plans. I will stay here until I know you are safe."

    Apprehensive, but honest. Antilene appreciated it. In part.

    "So be it," she clapped her palms together, to seal the end of the discussion. "I''ll see you both later. Don''t do anything rash while I''m gone."

    "Strange. I was about to give you the same warning."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    If the Prince''s guests noticed the half-elf walking among them, they did not give much away.

    Antilene knew that some of those personalities still remembered her, or at least she had every reason to believe so. The image of the satrap in chains handed over to the Union must have been still vivid in the minds of those present that day.

    Yet, beyond a few polite greetings, no one stopped her for more than a few seconds. It was like being invisible. Some of the assassins who had succeeded in the Black Scriptures would have envied her for that skill she had achieved without sacrifice.

    For now, Antilene enjoyed the quiet. The return journey had been continually punctuated by questions from Lady Elaina and her retinue.

    "You must tell me all about the Theocracy, the Empire, Re-Estize... I have never been to any of these places."

    At first, the conversation with the halfling had been pleasant. At first.

    ''But the topics to talk about soon ran out. Making friends¡­ is difficult.'' Eventually, there was nothing left to say. Ever since she had reached maturity, Antilene had believed that her strength was the only wall separating her from the rest of the world. And even if that was the case, it was still not the whole truth. ''Knowing how to speak and knowing how to understand another person are two things that do not always overlap. In fact, they rarely do.''

    Conversation with her siblings, who cared for her more than Antilene had ever been able to care for others, had proved this.

    The escort trip, which had quickly dwindled into a mission devoid of anything new, had proved this.

    The relationship with the Black Scriptures had proved it. Respect, there was plenty of it. Something more? Easier to catch a bunch of chimeras than to conform to unfamiliar standards.

    But, in the end, making friends was all that important? Would it have changed anything? Her dear companions of the past were already dead¡­ Making new ones wouldn''t have returned them back to her.

    Eventually, wandering around the palace wings, she came across the same room with the Prince''s painting she had entered on her first... visit. This time, she found someone to welcome her.

    "Lady Fouche. I did not expect to find you here." It was Dionegis, the one Antilene had jokingly dubbed the Swan Knight. In reality, except for the crest embroidered on his chest, the young man had little of the gracefulness of that bird. "I expected to find you still in the main hall. Cavorting with the rest of the nobility."

    "And that''s your opinion of me? I might be offended."

    He shrugged and returned to look at the painting of Prince Alexander.

    "You are not with your lady? She might need you right now."

    Indeed, if Elaina Orestes was somewhere, with the good and the bad weather, it was to be expected to see her trusted protector pop up after a few seconds. But no sign of the halfling.

    Dionegis still didn''t direct his gaze at her, but it didn''t take a genius to realize that question had hurt him.

    "The Prince has requested to be alone with Lady Orestes. Lady Thekla and Lady Kilmestra have strongly suggested that I take a little time for myself, to enjoy some rest after my long service. Master Orestes will arrive in the evening, and I must be ready to resume service with him."

    That suggestion had been accepted, but not appreciated, that was for sure. Antilene did not know how to comfort him... nor was she sure she was required to do so.

    "I''ll leave you to your pity then. Heaven forbid I come between a valiant knight and his sulking. A lady of good family... ergh, a lady of good manners recognises when she is unwanted." She was about to leave the room, when she heard a voice, thin and wavering, call her back.

    "Wait, Lady Fouche." Dionegis had finally turned around, and although his face remained dry, Antilene had the impression that he was on the verge of commotion. "May I have the temerity to ask you a question?"

    "You have already done so," said the half-elf, amused by the bewilderment that now leaked from the young knight''s face, hitherto always restrained by a seriousness imparted with far too much zeal. "But, from the height of my generosity, I grant you a second. Come on, you should know better than to keep a girl waiting."

    "If you had not been there, Lady Orestes would have died unceremoniously in the snow. And even during the rest of the journey, you always countered every assault, while I was always left looking clueless," he clenched his fists, while his breath did not maintain a regular cadence. "Soon my lady, the one I swore to protect at the cost of my life, will be the consort of one the most important men in the Union. The man the Equestrian King wants to kill more than any other. The centaurs will soon arrive, and I know I will not be able to protect her. Nor will Prince Alexander. But you are."

    Antilene certainly did not expect what followed. The swan knight went so far as to touch her feet with his forehead in a gesture of entreaty. "I implore you, Lady Fouche. Would you be willing to continue to protect my lady?"

    In that gesture, there was no ulterior motive. It was just the last desperate move of someone who had nothing left to lose.

    A blunt sword was useless. A sword placed on the ground was less than useless. The halfling''s words echoed in the half-elf''s thoughts. ''Once we have lost our purpose, what can we ever yearn for?'' For that young man, raised as a weapon and sharpened in childhood as a blade the iron of his filament had been broken by his perceived worthlessness. Would Elaina have repeated those words, on seeing her favorite reduced to that state?

    Probably yes.

    "Get up," she ordered him. He remained motionless. "It is not for me to protect that halfling." He continued not to move. Neither was he breathing, nor did he give any sign of any semblance of life. Dionegis had become as motionless as the statues that decorated the palace. A piece of marble, still and sparkles. "Is this what you intend to do with your life?"

    Some members of the Black Scripture used to collapse in the same way. Once what defined the meaning of one''s existence was stripped away, that what made you special turned out to be only mediocre ordinariness, that what distinguished did not make you different from others, the first response was to give up.

    And the second... Well, it was even more cruel. Before going down that road, however, there was the consolation of a new fork in the path opening up.

    Now, to renew himself was up to the swan knight alone. To find a new way, or to be swallowed up by his newfound awareness.

    "What is life without honor?" Dionegis dribbled, slamming his fist against the floor. The metal glove he wore produced an unpleasant and untimely echo. "What is a knight, if he has no one to protect? Or, worse, if he fails in his duty?"

    "This¡­" Antilene could not finish the sentence. The raging sound of footsteps distracted her. A frightened crowd was pouring towards them, bringing chaos.

    The half-elf stopped a demi-human with canine features, throwing him to the ground with a simple wave of her hand.

    "You, tell me what''s going on?"

    The demi-human tried to breathe. Antilene had used too much violence, with... unforeseen outcomes. "Shit," muttered the half-elf. She lost a few seconds to reluctantly heal the beast.

    "Coff... coff... The new princess¡­"

    Dionegis, who had risen again, whitened. The violet light of his irises was struck by a shadow that had descended from who knows where. He drew his sword, which he aimed at the demi-human''s throat, issuing a single, terse command: "Speak!"

    The unfortunate guest did everything he could to regain a speech pattern worthy of the name. "A shout was heard from the Prince''s chambers, just as the new princess and future consort withdrew. One of the dignitaries from the other cities was also found murdered. And that''s not all... they have arrived."

    "Arrived who?"

    "The Equestrian King''s troops. Sooner than could be expected. Crossing the sea aboard thousands of warships. Dozens of missives arrived at the same time. Orcleans fell. Thousands of troops are heading towards Beppo Allo and both East and West Gaith."

    Antilene was to ask him another question, but the swan knight had already escaped.

    "You go away," after chasing the non-human away, the half-elf rushed towards the main hall.

    First bursting with life, now empty. Death had taken possession of the place, and the tables of the Union''s laws, symbol of unity and cohesion, had collapsed to the ground.

    Elaina, shaken and trembling, had been wrapped in a blanket by her attendant: Kilmestra. Of the other attendant there was no trace.

    Dionegis had rushed as eagerly as he could towards his mistress, using as much tact as he could to ask her what had happened, getting only silence for an answer. His sword continued to be drawn, towards some unseen enemy, causing only terror in the few remaining servants who lingered in the hall.

    Antilene noticed that Prince Alexander was absent, and with him his personal guard, Mirina and Sir Niles included.

    The seats reserved for the dignitaries of the other cities were now empty, save for one. The half-elf approached the one still occupied. Kista stood nearby, straining to maintain a decorum befitting a woman in her position. She touched the corpse still remaining in place, somewhat certain that only shaking it would bring it back to life.

    When she noticed her, the only thing the woman could do was bend to the ground, as if the pain that had accumulated in such a short space of time now came out all in one violent blow.

    "Lady Fouche, you are here¡­"

    ''And you are late,'' Antilene concluded for her.

    Those were not the circumstances under which they both wanted to meet, it was obvious. Antilene asked only one question.

    "What happened?"

    Kista stood up, not without some difficulty. Unlike Lady Orestes, she was not shivering, being able to keep a certain control over her emotions.

    "When Prince Alexander led Lady Orestes to her chambers to speak to her privately, all was well," she began to explain, clearing her throat with more than a cough. "Then, some servants started handing missives to some dignitaries who were with us. The first was the mayor of Veneria. His mustache turned white with terror as he pulled away, his feline tail twitching in dismay. It was unusual, but Queen Kirke told us not to worry. It was only personal matters of no importance, in all likelihood. We were suspicious, but the festive air and wine had convinced us to postpone the matter for a few hours."

    She lowered her head, as if cursing her mistake.

    "We should not have."

    "And then?"

    "And then a missive arrived for General Chazos," Kista continued. "This time, its contents were immediately clear to us. Orcleans had fallen. Indeed, it was more accurate to say that it had surrendered without putting up a fight. And for the centaurs to cut their way across the sea meant only one thing."

    "Treason."

    "Magister Kostas left early, but we didn''t think ... The hall had begun to empty. The general thundered that he would personally lead his troops to repel the invaders. I and the others tried to convince him that alone would be suicide."

    "And Prince Alexander?"

    "He was immediately alerted to the news, and promptly rounded up as many dignitaries and soldiers as he could. At that point the chaos had not yet begun, many were persuaded to retreat without causing panic. I headed with the Prince and the other representatives to the upper part, where we were to hold a council of war. It was then that I realized someone had fallen behind. I went back to fetch her, when we heard Lady Orestes'' shrieks."

    At that point, things were beginning to take shape. Elaine was alive, and with her Kilmestra. So the one who had been eliminated had to be...

    "Thekla the attendant... but where is she now? Her body, I mean."

    "I don''t know," Kista shrugged, heedless. She was not to blame, for other concerns kept her busier.

    Antilene did not pursue the matter with her. Instead she pointed to the uncomfortable presence between the two of them. "And when did you notice that the old queen was dead?"

    "Just now... I thought¡­" There was something to be said about Kista Cabelia. She was a strong woman, if not of body, at least of spirit. She recomposed herself with a grace and speed that left even the half-elf astonished. "I thought she was sleeping. It had been a long day. And more than once she had confided in me of the weariness that gripped her."

    Indeed, looking at the hag with her eyes closed and her head just slightly bowed one could easily be confused and assume she was asleep. Were it not for the line that furrowed her neck and from which a yellowish liquid oozed copiously.

    Zea Kirke, Queen of Ris, had passed away in silence.

 Chapter 53: Duty never ends

    Chapter 53

    Duty never ends

    Silksuntecks, Slaine Theocracy

    "Once again today, we thank the Gods for being gathered here, alive."

    Opening the discussion was the Pontifex Maximus, taking his seat only when he was sure that each of his colleagues had preceded him. The invocation was repeated in turn by each Cardinal.

    Aeneas kept his gaze fixed on the floor, waiting to be addressed. The climate was kept at a perfect watertight temperature. Compared to the last remnants of winter still making their presence felt outside, could be perceived even a hint of warmth.

    "You may rise, Captain Vicente. There is no need for you to humble yourself for us." Cardinal Lauransan''s voice was quiet and faint, with a slight hint of affection that his position dictated he suppress.

    The Black Scripture captain knew every step of that dance; they had both performed that show too many times now, never achieving a different result.

    He raised his head, quickly scanning the seven people seated at the table in front of him. His attention, however, was not directed towards them, but on the arch on which the symbols of the Six Great Gods were depicted above them.

    "If you do not mind, I prefer to remain in this position," Aeneas replied, pressing his kneeling leg even further against the ground.

    He was certain that, even moving from that uncomfortable position, neither the Six Cardinals nor the Pontifex Maximus would change their opinion of him one iota.

    Therefore, the young captain felt obliged to press more forcefully.

    "If that is what you wish, we will not waste ourselves in any more unnecessary pleasantries," the Cardinal''s face remained firm and composed, his lips slightly pursed in a grimace. Raymond had not succeeded in convincing him this time either, and perhaps he was persuading himself that the next attempt would be the fateful one. "I have already arranged for your reports to be given to all those present here today. There is no need for me to make a secret of it: you have done the Theocracy a great service by your actions, my dear child. The war with the Diarchy was a resounding success, and the saving of lives, in such dark times as we face in these unpredictable days, is without a doubt worthy of celebration."

    A chorus of assent rose up; everyone present shared Cardinal Lauransan''s optimistic and pride-filled tone.

    "I only did my duty."

    Aeneas went back to staring at the floor, which was so clean he could glimpse his own reflection. He knew which humble hands had laboriously cleaned that room, deliberately ignoring the use and convenience of magic, in an act of extreme devotion and atonement.

    He wondered if his soul too would be as clean as that floor one day. As clean as the others souls there were.

    "Just as error must be punished and understood, so that it may be avoided for the future, success is worthy of proper recognition, in order that it may be replicated hereafter," as the only woman present, it was easy to distinguish Cardinal Santini in the small group. Aeneas did not need to look at her face to know she was giving him an affectionate smile. It had been her habit since Aeneas was a child, until persisting in the present, when the Black Scripture captain child was no more. "So, if there is anything you wish, we beseech you to make us aware of it."

    His heart skipped a beat, daring to provoke an unfamiliar -not unwelcomed- happiness at hearing the praise. After suppressing it with one breath, he cleared his throat, daring to ask: "A couple of days'' rest, to recover my energy and give my greetings to my loved ones. Only if this does not cause an inconvenience for the designs of the Theocracy, of course."

    The proven fault at the request was not slight, but he judged that remaining dismissive of such generosity might be misunderstood by the Cardinals, and by the Gods, of whom they were the spokesmen.

    Satisfying his more selfish side was necessary to let his more self-sacrificing side shine.

    "There will be no problem. It is a more than adequate request." Raymond scratched his bristly chin. No words needed to convey his satisfaction. ''I am proud of you''. Aeneas only longed to hear this.

    A second murmur of assent arose. This time, however, not everyone was in agreement.

    "There is, nevertheless, one thing our captain must explain to this council. Please stand up, Captain Vincente."

    This time it was not an offer, but an order. Aeneas did not let it be repeated twice, finding himself face to face with his interlocutor. The mass of his hair - which had so far touched the ground - a wild, unruly hair behind him. The young Black Scripture captain felt the eyes of all the holy men present stinging.

    Accustomed to that inquisitiveness, he did not flinch, nor did his inner being experience the slightest disturbance.

    "I am at your complete disposal, Your Holiness Partouche."

    The Wind Cardinal had a stern expression, but not without sympathy. Guided by a desire for clarification, and not by the mere rush of accusation, he spoke to Aeneas with as much kindness as he could muster.

    "I thank you, Captain. I would like to make it clear that mine is not intended as a show of displeasure," Dominic Irhe Partouche showed the signs of a life spent in the Scriptures in the austerity of his body, tempered by one crusade after another, and in his straightforward, orthodox, no-nonsense methods. Every word he spoke was worthy of attention and admiration, imbued with a passion for the cause that had the extraordinary. "Like everyone here, the gratitude I feel for your actions and your person is not quantifiable. So I dare to have the pretense of addressing you as a father might address a son."

    Aeneas'' father was dead, long buried.

    "I am aware of that. Please ask me anything you wish."

    Aeneas already had an idea of what the subject of the question would be, and part of him was relieved.

    In case of guilt, he would have a hand ready to guide him to redemption. In case of acquittal, the doubts that whispered in his soul would cease.

    The Cardinal nodded, confirming Aeneas'' hunch. "An order had been given to assassinate the young princess El-Aziz of Tel-Hoorusan if she did not prove friendly to our cause." The man sorted through the series of papers piled on his side of the table, in support of his arguments. "And, judging from the report of our young captain, General Bulgari and the other operatives who have had the pleasure of meeting her, the princess, as well as being a pleasantly attractive woman with a strong and firm personality, shares her predecessors'' project of coexistence between races."

    There was a slight note of disappointment in those last words. As if the Cardinal had been betrayed by someone close to him. Aeneas assumed that for Dominic Irhe Partouche every man and woman was brother and sister, and to witness a kinsman siding with the enemy made one''s blood justifiably boil with rage.

    But there was also something else in the Cardinal''s tone. A curiosity dictated by the particular circumstances involving that situation. Aeneas was aware of the role played by the Wind Cardinal. As first inquisitor, he was subjecting him to an informal quaestio, with the other Cardinals acting as his witnesses.

    There were no distinctions dictated by social rank in the Slaine Theocracy. Each of the Cardinals there had to answer to the supreme council as the humblest of peasants. The greatness of their nation was underpinned by an equity that did not admit of preferential treatment.

    "Now, did I understand correctly in reading that you considered the circumstances unfavorable to her assassination? Here you speak of a possible tumult that could cause her loss, providing examples of possible unfavorable events for us that could cause her departure."

    Before Aeneas could proffer, someone rose to his defense.

    "Come on, Dominic. Captain Vincente had a guess that, given the elements at his disposal, should not be without foundation," Raymond passed his gaze first to his peer, firmly and decisively, and then directed it to the young captain, nodding his head slowly, seeking his corroboration. "On one of the thrones of the Diarchy sits a child, whose guardian is a particularly famous and cunning djinn, who certainly has no great fondness for us. Formally, their kingdom has passed under our protection, but both parties are aware that it is a circumstantial arrangement, dictated by necessity. If we light a fuse, we should not then be surprised at the explosion."

    Aeneas, who had replayed that speech many times in his mind, found himself in agreement with his superior. "Princess El-Aziz was aware of our intentions," he explained, measuring the words carefully. "To create a dynastic crisis at a time when there are many factions hostile to us would only have been a detriment to our plans, and would have brought that precarious balance crashing down in an instant. Shaimaaa... Princess EL-Aziz sees the lesser evil in us, and assures us of her cooperation with modest concessions."

    Although his skills of persuasion were certainly not exceptional, the young captain felt he had broken through to the Cardinals. Perhaps because, after all, they all agreed with his assessments from the start.

    "Very well," commented Cardinal Partouche, granting Aeneas, if not a smile, a tilt of the lips that came very close to it. Probably -no, Aenaes was sure- that sort of interrogation was proceeding as planned. "Not because I want to doubt our greatest champion, you understand? I was once young myself, and I have not forgotten the ardors of age, especially as regards impulses that... are not always easy to control."

    "Of course, your holiness," normally, such a speech would have been a source of embarrassment. A normal boy would have portrayed himself annoyed by that allusion. Aeneas could not afford to be a normal boy, so he replied with as much coldness as he had in his body. "If you fear that there has been tenderness between me and Princess El-Aziz, I can assure you that these fears are absolutely unfounded. My judgment has not been clouded by unnecessary feelings."

    "Of course, of course," muttered the Wind Cardinal.

    "However, Captain, you understand our need to make sure that there have been no... complications," intruding on the discussion was Cardinal Delacroix, whose facial contours were illuminated more than anyone by the dim lights of the room. "When it comes to the seed of the Gods, we cannot afford the slightest uncertainty of where it was planted," he said, adjusting the monocle he wore over his right eye. "Especially when that seed has not yet found a suitable partner, despite our best recommendations."

    The main purpose of the conversation had unsheathed its blade. The first part was just a scratch, the second was planned as the final lunge. Whether it had been an orchestrated plan from the outset to exert certain pressures, or a simple coordination done to artful effect as the discussion unfolded was unclear.

    "There was no such connection. Besides, clear proof of that can be had in a couple of months, don''t you think, Your Holiness?"

    The smell of incense, so strong it covered any other, dimmed for a moment, and the only thing Aeneas could smell was the disgust that kneaded his mouth. The suggestion took on the taste of vomit. A putrescent miasma flooded his nostrils.

    "That emboldens us. The awakened blood grows fainter every day, and to preserve it is our duty. Our sacred obligation. Our mission," Cardinal Lauransan emphasized that last word with particular emphasis: Our.

    Raymond never appeared so distant from the captain''s gaze. Aeneas recalled a time when a hero he had idolized sat with him and his father in front of a crackling fireplace, telling stories and events that could only make a child''s imagination more vivid.

    The chimney was now turned off.

    Those memories, foggy and fragmented, were now castles of cards that collapsed with the passing wind. Imaginary realms beyond the clouds that had existed only in his head.

    "I understand perfectly."

    Aeneas wished he had a blade, so he could cut the vein where the sacred liquid flowed. That way, the abundance of red would not fail for long and everyone would be able to bathe in it.

    That thought, obscene and blasphemous, was vigorously suppressed by the reason that resumed possession of his mind, driving out the foul demon that had suggested such corruption, giving birth to a sin of imagination carried out right in front of those whom, most of all, he esteemed and adored.

    "I comprehend the concerns of your holinesses, and indeed I share them," as he spoke, repeating to himself the psalms of light and darkness, Aeneas recalled the passages of the Ways of Darkness and the Silence of the Light, exegesis among the most valued, finding comfort in them.

    ''Man''s path is strewn with doubts and uncertainties'', they said. ''The shape of the soul can only be observed through meditation and prayer. The hope to which we cling is dim and distant,'' they stated. ''Man suffers, because suffering brings him closer to the Gods.''

    Aeneas could still suffer, and that still made him a man.

    "As you are aware, this very evening I have a meeting with the beloved niece of our Pontifex. I am confident that it will be successful."

    In his vision, the Six took shape, and superimposed themselves on those who voiced them. It was not a dazzle of madness, Aeneas was certain, nor a trick of fatigue. It was merely a reward for his faith.

    With that moment of beauty gone, the young captain noticed that Pontifex Maximus, first among equals, slowly rose from his seat, heading towards him.

    The mask of wrinkles that was his face strained to show affection. He was old, even older than Aeneas remembered, but still fuelled by a flame that stubbornly would not fade.

    "Just like your predecessor," with calloused hands, he gripped his shoulders in a vigorous squeeze. The young captain could reflect himself in the shining eyes of the Theocracy''s highest authority, before bowing his head in respect. "If this has seemed like a warning, or a punishment, I ask you to forgive us." A whisper that knew how to still be as mighty as the raging storm.

    The other Cardinals nodded at what was said by the man who was first among equals, seventh among six.

    "There is nothing to forgive," Aeneas heartened. More his own spirit, than that of others. "He who is in charge of the big picture must also be vigilant about the smallest matters."

    And, to tell the truth, that was not an unimportant detail, but a fundamental stone in the construction of their future.

    "Having ascertained this matter, we may proceed with something else," His Holiness Elohim resumed his position at the table. "Captain, everyone here knows that the victory over the Diarchy, though fundamental to our purposes, is but a preamble," the formalities, which had been put away for a moment, returned with even more force.

    They were no longer a young citizen of the Theocracy and old guard preparing to pass on the baton, acquaintances since childhood of the former; they were the highest authority and the now undisputed champion of that same country, loved and revered, of which they were the supporting pillars.

    "The Masakan Desert is but a small part of a larger whole. In addition to the various city states, the nomadic harsaffs, the khumat lizardmen tribes, and the pabislags of the poison tails are just a few of the cultures we have identified from this vast region. Yet, even all of this falls into the background when compared to the secrets hidden in the Flying City, the gem of the world that was."

    "Whoever manages to amass the power stored in Eryuentiu will be able to upset the balance that holds this world so adrift. Not only would the great non-human nations at the center of the continent no longer pose a great threat, but the Eight Kings of Greed may have left their guarded secrets to bring down even the last dragons, masters of ancestral magic."

    "What if it were us, Zinedine? The supremacy of the human race would no longer be an empty letter, a mere union of intent, a norm devoid of efficacy. Ahhh, but we all know that is impossible..."

    "...The Platinum Dragon Lord."

    At the mention of that name, everyone fell silent. There was, however, an awareness, the Black Scripture captain believed, of comfort. As long as Eryuentiu would be inaccessible to the Theocracy, any others intent on claiming that alluring legacy would see their aspirations rejected in the same way.

    It was Cardinal Lagier who broke that silence, bringing the attention of his peers back to Aeneas. Thick glass spectacles reflected a relentless curiosity, edged with stern concern.

    "This infamous Golden King, what idea did you get during your time in the south?"

    "Nothing concrete," Just rumors and scattered comments. Merchants and refugees fleeing to safer lands, foreboding disaster. "Astrologer tried to start mapping the region to give us a clearer idea of the enemy forces, but it will take time. For now, it seems that his army is divided into several forces, each a mixture of various races and cultures. He is a conqueror who was able to impose himself on the region in a short time, but nothing about his past or background is known. Certainly we speak of a dangerous enemy, but whether he is comparable to the late Elf King is difficult to determine."

    Cardinal Guelfi coughed, before opening his mouth. The scars of late age were evident, but unlike his body, his mind was still lively and quick.

    "The late king of the Elves had been a danger because of his abilities that transcended common rationality. But he was a single threat, lacking adequate support. Even if the Golden King had been an inferior opponent, surrounded by capable subordinates he could match him."

    Raymond agreed. "Various races mean various weaknesses and resistances to be taken into account. I will arrange a team with Astrologer and the Clearwater to provide the army with as extensive a list as possible. Negotiations with the elves are proceeding slowly, and we still don''t have a proper programme for training new rangers, unfortunately. We should get organized with the new recruits, it could be an opportunity for them to gain experience in the field."

    The outbreak of a new conflict was not desirable, but it had to be taken into consideration. In that case, better to be prepared.

    "Good note is that, with any luck, we should not even have to face him."

    "Please explain yourself captain," Cardinal Santini urged him, now with a grave expression on her face.

    "The Diarchy feared that the Golden King would attack it to bolster his own forces, gaining a quick and painless victory. But now that news of our alliance has reached his ears, for it has certainly reached him, the wanna be conqueror may see his plans change and head straight for his main target."

    "And at that point, he would be the one who would have to suffer the wrath of Tsaindorcus Vaision," the woman concluded, not holding back a hint of satisfaction.

    The good mood was not shared by everyone, however, including Aeneas. And Raymond, his old master, understood what this could mean.

    "But would he really suffer the wrath of it? Let''s think for a moment; I find it hard to imagine anyone not being aware of the flying city''s protector. And it is not only one of the most dangerous dragons in the world that needs to be taken into account, but also the guardians placed by the Eight Kings themselves who defend the city. There is a reason why the capital of the eight conquerors has over time become the capital of peace. Only a fool would try to challenge its defenses. Are we facing a madman?"

    No one answered. The answer was foregone.

    "You''re not suggesting what we all think, are you, Raymond?"

    The Cardinal of Earth crinkled his fingers, producing a gravelly sound. "That''s right, Dominic. This Golden King must have some secret weapon, something that surpasses even our most precious relics to make him see such a feat as possible. Or..."

    "...Or he knows something we ignore. Perhaps our suspicions over the years were not without foundation. The Extra Seat has been on the loose for some time now. And, as far as Windflower and ClearWater Scripture report to us, she has not yet had any complications in her ''vacation period''."

    It seemed to Aeneas that all the Cardinals had suddenly aged. Those who were the indissoluble foundations of the wall that defended humanity from the most unspeakable horrors were showing the inexorable and wearing passage of time and toil. The Captain of the Black Scriptures despised himself for not being able to bring them relief by his mere presence alone.

    "The Platinum Dragon Lord has indeed disappeared..."

    Normally, the rout of the closest enemy should have brought jubilation and exaltation. The ghostly, graveyard-like atmosphere that followed, however, was not unexpected.

    "That changes everything... What will the other survivors among the dragon lords do once the situation is ascertained? Will they continue to be indifferent to this part of the continent, or will they find it right to intervene? Dragons are indifferent to the fate of their fellows, but they are not stupid. The disappearance of the greatest among them may prompt their investigation."

    Interference from the old masters of the world would bring disaster. Even with the help of Antilene -and his- Aeneas, as well as the Cardinals, knew that at best the Theocracy would find itself destroyed in the crossfire. A precarious balance and a shaky peace were preferable to an open war that they knew they could not win. Not without paying an immeasurable price.

    "Maybe it''s just the dragon''s plan -a way to draw out an elusive target."

    That of Cardinal Delacroix was certainly a plausible option, but without evidence to back them up, all they could do was camp up hypotheses lacking any real persuasive force.

    "If I may suggest," Aeneas raised his voice just enough to distract them from their thoughts. "Let us use the Diarchy to observe the situation, and prepare appropriate countermeasures based on the Golden King''s movements. Whether he decides to attack our allies or the Flying Fortress, my men and I can take advantage of the confusion to assassinate him. Or, in this case, use the holy relic."

    It was also time to find a suitable replacement for Kaine before it was too late. He would have put that question to Raymond in private.

    The Cardinal of Earth approved his proposal. "Very well," the shadow of concern had not yet disappeared from his expression, but, and perhaps it was just a game of deception caused by the candlelight, it had partly dissipated. "We will follow your proposal, my dear boy. As always, we are grateful for your help. And with us all our beloved nation."

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The young captain''s chest flamed more than it should at the praise. "I only do what I must. My contribution to the cause is not even comparable to yours. There is no need to show me gratitude for that."

    The Pontifex Maximus turned towards the effigies of the serving Gods. "Perhaps they are just useless pleasantries, but they remind us to take nothing for granted," at his words, everyone present pointed their eyes towards those symbols imbued with sacredness. "You may go now," he enunciated after a few seconds of contemplation. "We do not intend to bore you any more than we have to with matters beyond your expertise. Enjoy your well-deserved rest."

    The Captain of the Black Scripture lowered his head once more, pronouncing the necessary rites for his dismissal. As he left, he closed the door behind him, avoiding making the slightest noise.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Once outside Aeneas captured some talk about the current situation in Re-Estize, the Empire, the Hills, the Holy Kingdom and more. Soon, those words became only an echo that blurred in his mind.

    The young captain adjusted his hair, which fell in no particular order over his shoulders, into a ponytail held steady by a blue spring. When he had finished, he pressed his finger on his right wrist, activating the device he had placed there. Numbers began to materialize in front of him, indicating precisely the hour of the day.

    ''It is still late morning.''

    Normally, he would have taken the opportunity to review battle plans, prepare the inventory of magic items, create new formations with his comrades, and countless other chores that would be useful for his next missions.

    But this time was different. Aeneas couldn''t even remember the last occasion he had been granted a small leave of absence. He would have devoted it to his interests, if a sudden realization had not struck him.

    ''I have nothing I''m passionate about outside of work, have I?''

    There was little bitterness in that finding. More like the contraction of the stomach after a long period of fasting.

    The Black Scripture captain walked down the corridors of the Cathedral, choosing his own rooms as the destination, to make a decision. He could not help but ponder what his companions would do.

    ''Elena is a fan of music and theatrical performances. Quaiesse takes care of his magical beasts. Samson is a connoisseur of wine and beer. Cassandra has a vast assortment of board games. Clementine... I don''t even want to know''

    None of that could impress him. Aeneas finally decided that he would use his leave of absence to prepare for that evening''s meeting and go over some of the catchphrases his sisters had suggested. A good presentation was essential to make an impression.

    Try as he might, in previous marriage meetings he had never been a brilliant conversationalist, to say the least. Of course, no one expected him to be. Not even the girls specially chosen for the task. Aeneas knew that in those unions love was definitely in the background. He had seen that feeling totally absent between his father and his wives, and part of him hoped not to repeat the actions of his old man.

    Marriage to a Godkin was a prison sentence. As far as possible, the young captain wanted to choose someone who had the strength of spirit to renounce the light of the outside world.

    ''If she saw me now, Shaimaaa would mock me until the end of time.'' Thinking back to the princess of the Diarchy unexpectedly brought him into a good mood. ''We didn''t have time to say goodbye, but I hope she''s alright.''

    After his victory over the Sword Saint, he and the other members of the Black Scriptures had stayed just to complete their return preparations. The opportunities to see the girl had been few.

    ''If we were to meet again, I should offer my apologies.''

    It was only good manners. As far as possible, it was best to maintain a courteous tone with everyone he met.

    Overthinking, the young captain came to a fork in the road he knew well. Until recently he would have been ready to be greeted by a girl not much shorter than him, intent on passing the time with some strange devilry fished out of the treasure room. If they ever found themselves in those circumstances, it was almost certain that his concerns would be different and his appearance changed. She, on the other hand, would have remained the same.

    ''It was reassuring to see her here, every time, in her place.''

    This time, of course, there was no one waiting for him.

    No.

    Someone was there.

    Moved by instinct, the first thing the Black Scripture captain did was to draw his spear. Realizing who it was, he lowered it just as quickly, but without putting it away completely.

    "Is this the way to greet a comrade you have not seen in a long time? I feel my heart weep for the offense."

    "Windstride. What are you doing here?"

    The woman, who was sticking her head out to better observe the inside of the treasury of the Gods, brought her index finger to her chin, certain she wanted to give the impression that she was thinking carefully before giving an answer. It was so exaggerated that not even a child could have fallen for it.

    "But it''s obvious, isn''t it? Now that our beloved companion is enjoying her well-earned holiday, I trust our greatest treasures are properly guarded. We would not want some intruder to decide to take advantage of them, would we?" From the way she spoke, one could get the idea that she had dipped her tongue in honey for hours before making it so sweet.

    ''Poisoned honey,'' Aeneas considered, before correcting himself. Clementine had a... difficult nature. But she was not the only one within the Black Scriptures. It was up to him to guide her well.

    "And what is your conclusion?" He tried to appear as authoritative as possible, well aware of how strange, under all circumstances, it was that the ninth seat was in that place, right now.

    She approached. Far too close for Aeneas''s liking. He felt her intense perfume envelop him. A scent they both knew well, and which was impossible to get rid of.

    "That I would really like to see someone try to break in here. To see so many beautiful, seemingly unattended treasures, just begging to be grabbed. And then... to find him standing in front of it." Clementine closed her thumb and forefinger in a small circle, which she jokingly used as a monolocus to better bring her gaze towards him. "Our darkest secret; you place your eye on the doorframe and then death follows you out. Place your eye outside, and death accompanies you beyond. What is beyond? Nobody knows." She almost sang that nursery rhyme, a macabre litany that uttered by her had so much the gaiety of childish games.

    Aeneas did not share that hilarity. "No one should be able to sneak in here. Unless we''re talking about a ... traitor."

    More unique than rare, Windstride lost that sly air that had accompanied her ever since he had met her. It was short-lived. "Nono, what does our beloved captain think? A traitor? In the sacred Theocracy of Slaine? It. Is. Impossible." She shook out a strand of golden hair that covered her ear, sticking out her tongue at him in a mocking and carefree attitude. "You should be punished for even suggesting something like that. But don''t fret, you are forgiven."

    "I am very glad." He tried to appear as sincere as possible, with not the best of results.

    She laughed. "Then there is some sarcasm in that body, all fanfare and duty. And here I thought if I cut you I would find passages of holy scripture instead of blood."

    Aeneas pointed at his neck. "''Want to try?" Windstride was armed, he noted. Clementine had not yet stowed the sacred panoply in the armory. He was curious if she would unleash them against him. A test of loyalty, so to speak.

    "Don''t tease me, naughty boy," Clementine ran her nails over his skin. They were cold. "Killing the kin of a God. How exciting that would be. I could not be given a finer gift. Torturing you for hours on end, affecting you in the slightest. A toy that would last an eternity. How long would it take for me to get bored of you?" She filled her cheeks, then pouted. It was like watching a spoiled cat being denied something futile. "But we know you''d never let me, don''t we?"

    "You guessed it."

    "You''re noooo fun," but her reaction indicated otherwise. Aeneas took it as a small victory. "In any case, I know you returned from a mission, and my brother was with you. How did it go?"

    Under normal circumstances, the young captain would have been thrilled to see Windstride so interested in the vicissitudes of their comrades, but part of him had an impression -in fact, a certainty- that she was just curious about possible events she could use against her twin.

    "Everything went well," Aeneas saw the disappointment peep out of the woman''s expression. He was almost amused by it. "Quaiesse behaved properly."

    Clementine performed the most fake smile possible in human history. And it was no exaggeration. "I''m delighted about that," she absolutely was not. "Next time, though, you should make my brother slog much, much harder. Make him live up to his epithet. There must be some army you can point him towards, no? Maybe even two or three."

    "I''ll think about it," in any case, the bestowal of such an assignment would not have been a punishment for the fifth seat. Far from it. Just as the opportunity to interrogate prisoners conferred on Windstride would not have been unwelcome. The two Quintia siblings were more alike than they could admit. Woe betide, however, if one pointed this out to them. "You are also returning from a mission, if I am not mistaken. I haven''t had time to take a look at your report yet. I''ve heard some not comforting rumors, though."

    "You have been misreported. It was a walk in the park. A park infested with wolves and the hungriest beasts, full of bugs and filthy mud. Park that I was forced to walk through several times. Back and forth. To the right and to the left. But I had fun, nevertheless, at least until the end¡­"

    "Is the situation in the Draconic Kingdom so catastrophic?" As far as he could grasp, the Sunlight Scriptures had stayed for longer than the normal duration of their operation, before being withdrawn. And the help of an assassination specialist like Windstride in the open field was definitely out of protocol. More evidence of how under-staffed they were.

    "A little apocalypse here, a little end of the world there. An ignoramus like me doesn''t need to explain to you how the appearance of a Night Lich is an omen of doom."

    "A Night Lich!?" Aeneas could not contain his surprise.

    Clementine was enraptured by the reaction. "But then you were telling the truth! To think that our perfect captain knew nothing about it," having such an advantage was exhilarating for Windstride. If Aeneas had offered her the best pie in Silksuntecks it would not have had the same effect. "I guess the Cardinals haven''t had time yet either. After all, I returned just a few hours ago and only then did I hand in the report. A small oversight."

    She winked at him, as a sign of complicity. Aeneas overlooked it, justifying it as simple stress arising from the situation.

    "Now what are you going to do?"

    "For the moment, I''m going to put these back where they belong," she pointed to the equipment of the Gods she was wearing. "After that... I have no idea. Some rest to devote to my interests, for sure. Re-Estize is full of corrupt nobles, as I understand. And the Holy Kingdom has many powerful people opposing that lovely queen. I''ll see if I can get assigned some missions more my style. For the good of humanity, of course."

    "Of course."

    "Good to see we think alike!" She exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. Definitely uncharacteristic. "What will our beloved and magnificent captain do instead?"

    Aeneas replied without giving it too much thought. "I have a marriage meeting in the evening." Perhaps Windstride was not the best person to share that information with, but he had no a chance to regret it.

    "Lucky the chosen one. To become the companion of a great hero. Having a husband like you must be interesting for sure. For sure." She focused far too much on that last sentence.

    Aeneas nodded. He was about to ask her if she too had plans of that kind, before desisting. He doubted there was a man -or woman- capable of attracting Clementine''s attention. Not as long as they still had their bowels in place, at least.

    "I salute you, Windstride. Do not inconvenience the Guardian Deity too much."

    "I could never," the prospect certainly titillated her, but not even someone as capable of causing discomfort to the undead as Clementine could have hoped for such an outcome. "Although... Don''t look at me like that. You''re driving me to death with fright! I was only joking! Just... joking!"

    Aeneas sighed and resumed his walk. He was aware that Windstride had been watching him as long as he was visible. But the only thing occupying his mind was the inescapable appointment of the evening.

    Interlude part 1: a king in the plains

    There was a particularly strong breeze that morning. Hooves trampled the wood of the ship, while Darius enjoyed the coolness. His gaze was turned towards his large fleet, and the grandeur it projected over the ocean.

    Only a falsehood, of course. Since he had risen to power on the Great Plains, establishing a navy worthy of the name had been one of his priorities. With very little result.

    The ships were in great numbers, and in appearance solid and sturdy. But that was not enough. Few druids in his service knew spells for strengthening ships and controlling the tides. At most, they could calculate and briefly direct the winds to make navigation more peaceful.

    On the side of the quality of the sailors, the situation was no more comforting. Most of the races that had sworn allegiance to him preferred to keep their feet firmly on the ground, without the risk of unwanted bathing. At best, he had found a few sailors who were little more than mediocre. But almost the entire fleet was made up of those incapable of withstanding a battle on water.

    None of this mattered.

    "That is the coastline overlooked by the city of Orcneas, Great Heaven," Darius recognised the voice. It was his brother''s. Not of blood. Their bond of brotherhood had been forged by more significant experiences than having shared the same womb.

    "Bessus, I have intimated to you too many times not to call me by that name. I am your emperor, not your god."

    After the conquest, the clergy had been quick to attempt to deify his image. Only a deity could be capable of subduing so many valiant heroes and leaders in such a short time, some had claimed. A way to make his rule more legitimate, some of the more cynical might have thought. Darius had a good idea who had started all this, but he could not resent his childhood friend.

    "As satrap, it is my strict obligation to address my ruler in the way the people see fit, otherwise someone might question your authority," the centaur, much smaller than Darius, pointed to the blue, cloudless sky. "Besides, is it not true? Who, if not a God, would prepare to perform the prodigy we are about to see?"

    Darius looked ahead. Orcenas'' fleet had gathered rapidly in front of the city, and was preparing to send an emissary to greet them. "I am but a link, an emissary of Heaven," a small vessel approached the flagship of the Plains Fleet, towering a symbol of peace. Darius gave the order for it to approach. "I''ve been telling you since we were children. When will I be able to convince you?"

    "When you will provide me with reason to doubt," Bessus held back a laugh. "But I don''t think it will be today, my Heaven."

    "I wouldn''t be so sure," the emperor ignored that moniker, once reserved for intimacy, now shared by almost every one of his subjects. "Show our guests in."

    The satrap commanded some members of his guard to head towards the newcomers, so that they could be thoroughly checked before being admitted for a colloquium with the emperor.

    Darius continued to look ahead as he waited, establishing the overwhelming difference between his ships and those of the Union. Small and swift, the latter knew how to move in a confined space, and were certainly led by seasoned veterans, accustomed both to navigating the waters and repelling the assaults of pirates further east.

    That was a fight lost at the start.

    "Announcing the magistrate Mussel, representative of the city of Orcenas of the Union of the city-states of Karnasus, come to pay homage to Darius the first, first in his name, Shah of the Great Plains and Emperor under Heaven!"

    The howl of the imperial guard broke the placid silence of that morning. Some birds had begun to caw from above, taking it as a personal challenge, an outrageous affront to the religious tranquility of the sea.

    "Your imperial majesty," what stood before Darius was an elf, judging by the particularly pointed ears, but different from those he had been able to observe trading on those rare occasions that other races entered his kingdom.

    The skin was a dark blue, to begin with, and on the sides of his cheeks he had growths that resembled gills. His hair, cut short, was a muddy worm, reminiscent of seaweed.

    The bizarre elf wore a simple robe, with just a cloak slung over his shoulders to protect him from the cold. On his chest, the emblem of his city -a fierce-looking sea serpent- towered with deep pride. A saber at his side, without tip and sharpening. More a symbol than a weapon. His hands held out, locked in a firm grip that was meant to demonstrate goodwill.

    "Raise your head, magister," Mussel had lowered his head after turning it three times to the sky with slow, measured movements, as was the custom in Darius'' imperial court. The elf''s eyes betrayed no emotion except for a slight anxiety, which leaked through an irregular flutter of his eyelashes. "You may wonder why we have come to your territories... unexpectedly. We are very, very regretful that this has happened."

    Darius kept himself cordial, without flaunting weakness. It was imperative that from the outset he showed himself master of every smallest detail. For someone who abhorred conflict as he did, unnecessary bloodshed would only be a disgraceful sorrow.

    "We have not come to bring ruin or destruction, if that is what you fear. In truth, we have come here only to dispense justice, and to right a wrong that has been done us," the pluralis maiestatis -which the emperor so disliked and tried to avoid as much as possible- emphasized from the outset the difference in rank that existed between an Emperor, son of Heaven, conductor of peoples, and the commendable, but still lowly, representative of a rebellious city. "Since our demands for the return of our trusted friend, the satrap Tiribazus, have gone unheeded, we have found it necessary to continue to act by asserting our authority, for even if the Union pretends to forget it, this has always been Imperial territory, and the latest rebellions -suppressed with unfortunate violence- have done nothing but reaffirm our right to these lands. Move your fleet, then, and let us pass with our army, so that we may restore order where it is required."

    The magistrate maintained a certain decorum, showing the composure and firmness of character of an experienced politician. "If I may say so," he began only when he was certain that Darius had finished, in a courteous and pleasant, but not servile, timbre of voice. "Your requests have not gone unheeded, but are still under consideration by the various representatives of the Union. Bureaucracy, even when efficient, takes its time."

    As he spoke, the elf discreetly inspected his surroundings. He noticed for sure that besides Darius and Bessus there were only a couple of guards, while his escort numbered a dozen or so veterans. Even unarmed, they could have overpowered the satrap and their escort with ease.

    The emperor paused. He felt a tremor caress his tail. The wind had become more intense. "Not only has our fraternal friend Tiribazus not been returned to us, but Karnasus, the city we had chosen as the control center for the restoration, has been taken from us. Three of our generals are missing. The Union asks us to wait for abstract and indefinite times, without providing guarantees and answers to our questions."

    "If I may¡­"

    "No. You cannot!" He only had to raise his voice for any possible hostility to cease. Both the magistrate and his guard stopped, losing any desire to resist that might have been sown by an incorrect assertion of circumstances. "Orcneas had proposed the cessation of all hostilities and had offered itself as an intermediary for a peaceful transition to a future marked by unity. Instead, what do we find to welcome our arrival? A fleet in battle formation obstructing our passage."

    It was indifferent to Darius that no message had been delivered of their arrival. If nothing else, the emperor wanted to test what the magistrate''s reaction would be to that blatant abuse. The empire he was rebuilding had no room for spineless flatterers.

    The elf, unlike the soldiers accompanying him, discreetly maintained control, not letting fear obstruct his overview. Except for some strange sweat-like liquid puddling his bluish skin, and a slight tremor in his lips, he stood firmly on the platform, looking straight at the emperor, without lowering his gaze.

    "Heavenly Emperor, I remind you that there was no formal agreement between Orcneas and the Great Plains. The proposals and political leanings of my esteemed colleague, Magistrate Kostocles, do not represent our city in its entirety. No vote has been held with the city assemblies as far as I am aware, which is why Orcneas still maintains the position it previously took: that of open hostility to those who claim rights to our autonomy." His tongue had turned sharp, sharper than the saber he carried as mere decoration.

    Darius was impressed, and part of him longed even more to have the Union in his control. He let Mussel complete his speech before countering.

    "The city of Karnasus had come under the Empire''s control after a scattering, and Prince Alexander merely reclaimed the land of his ancestors in the same way it had been taken from him. Even if there are legitimate claims of the Empire to Union territories these are now impossible to prove, as far as I know. The right of conquest is certainly a stronger basis for your claims, but just as it was effective for you, it is also effective for the young prince."

    "Splendid," Darius clapped his hands in sincere applause. That simple gesture must have caught Mussel off guard, for he bit his lip in an immediately suppressed spasm.

    The emperor also noticed some barely imperceptible wrinkles on the elf''s forehead, which, according to his information on that long-lived race, gave a plausible explanation for his experience and eloquence. "We hope that when the war is over, you will willingly come into our service. The empire needs keen and debate-ready minds like yours. Let us abandon all formalities, then."

    The invitation was not accepted. "I advise you to turn back, Heavenly Emperor. The fleet of Orcneas has always been prepared for the worst. And the empire has proven that it is not invincible." That threat was not too veiled. The arrogance derived from a few insignificant victories had flourished even among the waves of that watery expanse.

    "We know that your recent successes are not all your doing," Bessus spoke, accusing not only the Orcneas representative, but the entire Union. "You have provided yourselves with the help of a demon, of a daeva. You have broken the balance of heavenly harmony once again, bringing upon us the obligation to restore peace. Do not try to deny it. Our informant has been categorical."

    The magistrate clicked his tongue angrily, muttering only one name, in rage: "Kostocles."

    Darius let him believe that he had guessed the traitor: the seed of discord had been planted with particular ease. Division would make it easier to unite them under his banner, the propitious time having arrived.

    Now, however, the hour had come to put an end to those negotiations. "Let us pass, then. Do not force us to sully this clear sea with the corpses of your people."

    Mussel resumed control. His reply was a simple observation. "In the years of war, Heavenly Emperor, you have never attacked from the sea. This is because the fame of our fleet has reached even your ears. Orcneas cannot be taken from the sea!"

    A statement that knew no argument against it.

    "Do you really believe that, magister?"

    Darius raised his arm, gesturing to his satrap to be silent. "Orcneas was not taken because we have always recognised its value and in our design we hoped to make your jewel, your pride, ours. Ours was, we are aware, unjustified arrogance. For this, you will have our apologies." Managing to surprise those who had lived for centuries was no mean feat, the emperor acknowledged. Mussel stepped back, startled, realizing that the pretensions of friendship had collapsed.

    "Do not mistake our pity for weakness!" Darius continued, without raising his voice, without budging a step. To project his own wisdom onto another''s, he had learned, required nothing more than the will. "The daeva you have summoned from the depths must be drawn back into the darkness from whence they came, just as the rebellious young prince must be hanged as befits traitors. And if to do so we should renounce the treasures of the Union, so be it!"

    "The serpent of the sea will not fall easily," the elf had now backed up to join his men, who waited not far from their craft. "We will not give up without a fight¡­"

    What must have been a shout of incitement came out as a half-broken gasp.

    "Would that be the flagship? Splendid craft!" Darius, now deeming the magistrate useless, had shifted his attention to the gigantic vessel that stood in the center of the fleet, surrounded by other vessels, challenging it in size. "We have never seen wood worked so beautifully. Oak? No, it must have come from some plant unknown to us. And how many wizards are ready to raise magic shields to defend it! We have no reason to doubt that the admiral and the sailors chosen are also worthy of praise."

    Some old sea wolves, after a life spent braving the waves and storms, acquired skills similar to those that generals could display on the battlefield. They made boats sturdier, faster, and rendered even the most reckless maneuvers less risky.

    If the two fleets had faced each other head-on, there would have been no doubt about the winner. Especially since Darius'' ships, for the most part, were almost completely empty, with only the bare minimum of crew.

    "A pity... But this is the path the Union has taken. Bessus!" At his call, the satrap already knew what to do. He walked away to return soon after, accompanied by some servants carrying what the emperor had requested.

    "For you, My Heaven."

    His old friend handed him, one by one, all the pieces of his armor. Darius quickly stripped off the fragrant and graceful silks that covered his body, to cover himself with a radiant adamantium. "My sun, dazzling as ever."

    First, however, he had to release his wings, deliberately compressed into his back and hidden by his clothes. A cascade of feathers kissed his behind.

    "What?" The magistrate''s expression of surprise was promptly ignored.

    "Khvarenah, My Heaven," came the bow''s turn. His inheritance, belonging to his father, and his father''s father before him, down to his illustrious ancestor, from whom Darius had inherited form, soul, wisdom and strength.

    One of the Empire''s two greatest treasures. "My old friend, I ask you to give yourself to me, once more," he ran his fingers over the selfbow, made from a forgotten wood, but gleaming and glittering more than any other metal, set with two emeralds that resembled the eyes of a sleeping dragon on the verge of awakening, promising dreams of glory and aspirations of serenity to whoever held it.

    The emperor''s soul quivered at the vibration of the rope; his hand clutched that unbreakable thread, which no one but he could legitimately wield.

    "The dragon scales, My Heaven," finally, Bessus handed him a quiver embroidered from the skins of manticores, capricorns, chimeras and other beasts won by the emperor in his youth. The arrows inside derived their appellation from the trophy Darius had won when he still rode like a wild colt across the Great Plains, when the world was simpler, when the sky seemed bluer and the wind freer.

    The emperor touched their tips, surprised at how much the force of the fiery breath still lived in his weapons, how much it roared to burn the world. "It took us two days to hunt down the fire-dragon lord who haunted the mountains east of the Plains. He and his brood proved to be our greatest prey, to this day we carry the memory of that adventure in our hearts."

    Mussel did not react at the musing of the emperor, nor did he ask for any clarifications. As an interlocutor he had given as much as he could. The elf looked at Darius with that mixed look of wonder and wrath with which the dragon had greeted him in his memoirs. Ancient creatures, in the emperor''s opinion, shared the same weakness when faced with the unknown.

    "Take care, My Heaven," there was no real concern in the satrap. Bessus had faith in his sovereign, in his heaven.

    "Observe," Darius rose into the sky. The air became the steps of his ascent to the vault of paradise. He overshadowed the sun with his splendor. He humbled the wind, with the flapping of his wings. He kept the waves company with the placidity of his being.

    From above, the emperor could see the turmoil of the Sea Serpent, who had now become aware of his presence. So many tiny dots moved indefinitely. The light of his figure obscured the sun that had reached noon.

    Darius nocked his arrow, assuming the right position, cradled by the white clouds. The chosen one was gently laid on the rope.

    Spells of various kinds crashed down upon him. The spellcasters on the flagship summoned the power of the elements; magics of lightning and fire answered an ancient call to deploy their power on a single, solitary target. That energy shattered like foam on the rocks. The splendor of the sun, of Darius, was strengthened by that welcome of evil intent. Useless attempts that did not affect his person but rather reinforced it.

    Darius raised Khvarenah, stretching it. The large admiral ship immediately became the target of his aim.

    The flagship and the other vessels in tow began to move. Shouts of orders pierced the ears in an indistinct cacophony. Bridges for the assault, set up by rows of ruthless warriors, were beginning to be prepared. Small groups were being coordinated with expert readiness.

    As the emperor had predicted, Orcneas'' fleet was on a whole other level than his own, which they would catch up with and overwhelm in little effort given the chance.

    Soon, it would all be over.

    "¡º Fire shot ¡»."

    Darius released the arrow, now burning by the enchantment of his martial art, relaxing the fingers of the hand that stretched the string.

    There was silence.

    The bullet reached the Sea Serpent. The raised magic shields shattered like the weakest of glass; crystal shards formed a rainbow bridge that carried the arrow to the ship''s hull, piercing it effortlessly.

    Then came the noise.

    The roar of the sea rebelled against that preserved calm. The waves rose in protest against that affront. And then...

    The water exploded in a fiery inferno. A blaze of hell that made no distinction between who or what was to consume, called upon by the wrath of Heaven. Nature became fire. The Sea Serpent became fire. The fleet of Orcneas became fire. The light of that force brought an unexpected sunset of fire. The screams of the sailors soon became an undefined echo, unimportant.

    More than half of the enemy army had been completely annihilated before everything returned to its previous state. The few who managed to save themselves brought back what they had managed to save to the coast.

    The wind swelled with thick, gray ash. The breath became unbearable from the stench of corpses and burnt wood.

    Darius descended gracefully onto the deck of his ship, removing the helmet to better admire his handiwork. Part of him was disappointed that it was all over so quickly. The last extinguishing sparks brought him only one consideration. "Hopefully the daeva will entertain us more."

    Mussel had thrown his saber to the ground, and prostrated himself like a worm at his feet.

    Thinking back on the waste, Darius noticed that the weather had become warmer.

 Chapter 54: Preparations

    Karnasus, Cities State Alliance

    No time for a proper funeral. It was funny to consider that not even a Queen could receive worthy honors at her own demise. An unexpected equality that had something ironic in it.

    Antilene inspected the corpses of Rhea Kirke and Thekla in a hurry without proper support, unable to find anything useful. The blade that had slashed their necks had not been found, but it had to be considered that much of the inspection was crude and inadequate. A single half elf could not do the work of a specialized team. A murderer worthy of the name, worthy of Ijanaya, would have had no trouble getting away.

    That is, if they had not remained in the palace, as the half-elf suspected.

    There had been no opportunity to put an end to that. The Queen of Ris was dead, and with her the mysteries she carried within her.

    ''Resurrection magic?'' Rea Kirke was the only enchantress who had reached the fifth tier, at least according to public opinion. If there was anyone capable of performing that prodigy, they had not come forward. The door of the Theocracy was always open, but to go through it for such nonsense was nothing but a waste.

    "Today leaves a guide for us all, a vital piece of the Union. For a better place, I dare to hope. With her I feel I have lost a teacher, a friend." Kista had delivered a restrained, very narrow eulogy. The style was reminiscent of Slaine''s Ode to the Dead, but was tainted by passages that did not reflect the doctrine of Theocracy. Lack of epic pathos, language that exalted the deceased. There was, however, that distinct respect for the afterlife and the plea for mercy for the beyond.

    Other than that, just the rush to finish. A few tears from the guests. A prayer to some unknown deity. Nothing more.

    The funeral chamber prepared for the occasion only allowed a few minutes of and an equally quick farewell.

    Antilene ignored most of it, trying to put the bits of that day together. Something wasn''t quite right, but the jigsaw puzzle provided to her wasn''t missing a piece. Perhaps she was simply looking at the wrong picture. Searching for a river when a lake should have been the object of her interest.

    Of everything, it was the doubts that had not materialized into answers that left her annoyed. Had Queen Kirke been friend or foe? Had she deceived or tested her?

    Being undefeated did not translate into being experienced in the complex and tangled mess that were the emotions of the living.

    Antilene saw that corpse- a corpse that was smiling- and she saw only a body. A dead body. In that dead body, she saw nothingness. A nothingness that was looking back at her.

    Kista, who had known her better, saw more facets. One, two, three-the number didn''t matter.

    "What will become of Ris now?"

    "The Queen left no heir. I suppose a new ruler will be chosen from among the high nobility. For the time being, an assembly made up of the most important lineages will rule."

    "Are you upset?"

    "...Losing a friend is always a source of melancholy. Losing it at such an important time is not only a misfortune, but almost a cheap shot."

    "Gods can be capricious."

    "Yes," the mayoress had looked away from the half-elf, as if ashamed, as if she had something to hide. Yet Kista had not manufactured her grief, nor lied in her testimony. "And the young halfling? How is she taking it?"

    "Locked up in her chambers. Saying she does not yet feel ready to receive me. Confabulating a lot with her father, as far as I''ve overheard. I just caught a fleeting glimpse of her when she came to say her final goodbyes to the attendant."

    Philo Oreste had arrived the same evening as the murderers, as was originally planned. His coming was the latest misfortune in a series that showed no sign of abating.

    Franklin''s guild representative had engaged in a close discussion with the Prince - behind closed doors, of course - and then began a series of talks with the Union representatives still present. He could be seen going back and forth, accompanied by other guild representatives not only from Franklin but also from other cities. A handful of adventurers and workers never left his side.

    "It is unfortunate that the wedding has been postponed."

    Getting cold feet was expected. Elaina was not weak in spirit, but the loss of someone loved could disconcert even the strongest. The entire wing of the palace granted to the future lady of Karnasus was filled with the affiliates not only of Franklin''s affiliates, but of every other important personality who had some clout in the Union. Dionegis and Kilmestra now rarely left guarding her room, even eating their meals and resting hours in the corridor of the royal palace.

    Antilene could not feel much sympathy for her.

    Not that Prince Alexander lacked reasons of state to deal with.

    "Orcneas has fallen. The divination spells cast leave little doubt. War has returned to Union soil once more."

    "And Magistrate Kostas has still not been found. I was acquainted with his colleague, Magistrate Mussel, and I find it hard to believe that he surrendered without a fight," anger was a feeling that, under the right circumstances, was to be cultivated and encouraged. The one in Kista was a seed that had withered before it even bloomed, blossoming into a lush plant. "Hell of a monkey, must be holed up in some hole like the rat he is! Those damn centaurs. They only gave us a peek at their invasion to put us on alert, but then they obscured all their moves."

    Evidently the Union''s methods of divination did not hold a candle to those of the Plains Empire. Once again, Antilene realized how Astrologer was one of the pivotal members of the Black Scriptures.

    "Without the Queen of Ris, your alliance lost most of their magical abilities. It is indeed a pity."

    Kista had merely nodded. "That will have to be a lesson to us." Then, almost recovered from a long stay, she had regained some of an energy that did not make sadness its trademark quality. "This crime will not go unpunished. Nor will the Equestrian King. You gave us hope to resist, Lady Fouche. We will not throw it away."

    "Then the Union will do well to prepare."

    And to be frank, ineptitude had not taken its toll. The time frame for action had shortened more than expected, but Karnasus and their allies were not so foolish as not to have foreseen that possibility. The shock of the unexpected had been fierce, but it had not left them uncovered and lacking the ability to react. After a few days, most of the armies had been assembled and were ready to coordinate to strike the Equestrian King on the road to Beppo Allo.

    Antilene had seen Alexander and his staff working tirelessly to achieve a goal that, if not unattainable, gave the impression of being far, far away.

    Bad news, however, had the obnoxious custom of never arriving alone.

    "East and West Gaith have fallen. A second army from the Great Plains is now marching towards us."

    An ambassador bore no sorrow, so it was said. Yet those words tore into the faces and hearts of those present, so lightly breaking down a morale that had taken too much to raise.

    "Say it again."

    Since meeting him, the half-elf had never once seen Prince Alexander flinch. His was not a face molded in anger, or concern. Serenity was almost a natural expression of it, the blessed fate of the winner imposed at birth.

    On that occasion , control failed. "Say it again!" The messenger -a young man with all his milk teeth still intact- was gripped in a death embrace. Not because there was a genuine desire to do harm behind it. On the contrary. Alexander was bleached, and to protect himself, he inflicted pain on the first useful target, projecting onto others what he wished to be done to him.

    If that was a nightmare for him, he had found an unusual method of waking up.

    By the time Sir Niles managed to detach them, the boy had gone round the world standing still in his place, and almost brought the result of that journey to the floor.

    "Damn!" The Prince calmed down. "Damn! Damn!" Not immediately, no. "How is that possible!? We had contacted Gaith only a few days ago. Their army was ready to march with us."

    "Evidently it won''t anymore."

    The minotaur had puffed tiredly, giving the impression that his armor of silver plates was even more imposing than it had appeared until just now, the muscles contracted in powerful spasms, as if to challenge the magical ligaments to keep them in place. "We can sit here and complain about our misfortune for as long as we like. Or we can draw up a counterattack plan."

    That incitement rang hollow. A great warrior did not necessarily make a great leader. Sir Niles snorted a second time, raising his arm to the sky, almost touching the ceiling. Then he approached the Prince, who was slowly transforming into an undead, achieving something that would take many blasphemous sorcerers years and years of study to achieve, usually in vain.

    The color of Alexander''s skin had turned greenish and nausea had even stained his cheeks. The dazzling twinkle in his look had dulled, without disappearing altogether.

    "Pull yourself together, boy. Or we''re all doomed here! We''ve had a lot of grief lately. I don''t want to add another grave to this damn city!"

    An ineffectual encouragement. The Prince''s eyes continued to gaze at an unknown horizon, the shapes of which only to him were shown. He whispered something. ''''It should have been me who died then. It should have been me." That the loss of Rea Kirke had tested him more than could he admit? Then, slowly walking away from Sir Niles, Alexander returned to the table in the center of the room, where various miniatures illustrated the current situation. Others were added to indicate the new developments.

    The uncertain gait, which could have been mistaken for that of an inveterate bottle-lover, accentuated the miserable condition. He dropped a pair of carved toy soldiers that were supposed to represent the troops of Karnasus. They made no great noise, but in the stillness of the room that encounter with the earth resounded like the most foreboding of rumbles.

    Antilene watched from a distance, paying attention to not getting too engrossed. No one, Gods be thanked, paid much attention to her.

    General Chazos was not hiding his disgust; the fingers trembling on the hilt of the sword. Did he want to set the young prince straight with steel? Mirina and Kista were confabulating among themselves, sharing worried glances and then bitter smiles, in a strange dance between love and gloom. The representatives of Franklin''s guilds were wondering if they had not bet on the winning horse and it was not difficult to imagine that betrayal was seducing their minds with no particular difficulty; the mayor of Veneria was trying to mend the rift, with very poor results.

    Generals and politicians present were about to give up, while Alexander merely took note that everything he had painstakingly built was crumbling.

    Dinocrates, his scribe and secretary, had to take a stool to reach his master''s height. Even compared to the dwarves participating in that council of war, he was a tiny, insignificant little man, utterly worthless, devoid of significance. Alexander was the only one who appreciated and esteemed him and who, at times, was aware of his existence.

    Yet his composure was enviable and in the midst of that group everything appeared under his control. For Antilene -and not only her- that was strange. Forgetting that he existed was easy, and the half-elf could not help but wonder if that was not a quality to be despised but, on the contrary, to be appreciated.

    The two exchanged a few words that no one could hear. The emotions in the Prince''s expression went from pure surprise to shame, from fear to disbelief, then there was something else. A desire for redemption, aroused by so little. A suggestion for greatness that required only the minimum.

    ''''Okay,'''' Alexander adjusted his hair, which had begun to fall untidily over his forehead, and slapped himself a couple of times to give himself energy. But also to bring the attention back to him. "Let''s solve this." Dinocrates, standing behind, gave him more than a mighty pat on the back. "First of all, I apologize for my unbecoming attitude in such a delicate situation. The stress accumulated over the last few days has taken its toll all at once, and I have found myself overwhelmed by all this disaster surrounding us."

    That speed of recovery was exceptional. Unnatural, there was no other way to describe it.

    More than once Antilene had compared Alexander to the sea in her mind. A calm sea whose waves roamed placidly, which sometimes knew the gale. Now, there was something different about him. He showed more the firmness of a mountain, the immutability of the landscape.

    The relationship of trust with his allies had cracked, and restoring it would not be easy. It was the gift of some commanders to make madness palatable to even the most rational of men. It was a peculiar phenomenon, which distanced itself from the coldest logic, and which found its reason in the charisma alone, in the birthright of a commander, of a ruler.

    It was a rare ability, even in the Theocracy, which manifested itself in a superhuman aptitude and predisposition to command. But when exercised, it could make even the most fearful and skeptical men into beasts whose loyalty was unquestionable.

    What to ask, and what Antilene herself wondered, was: did the Prince of Karnasus possess that quality? Or had it been granted to someone else, perhaps not so far away?

    ''Show me what you can do,'' the half-elf''s attention settled on the scribe, who nodded contentedly in the shadow of his lord.

    "Sir Niles, thank you for spurring me on. I am lucky to have a comrade like you by my side, ready to get me back up when I fall."

    The minotaur exchanged a look full of respect with the lord of Karnasus. "We have been through a lot together. If the old Queen singled you out as the leader of this coalition, I''m sure there was more than enough reason. I want to have as much faith in you as she did."

    Sir Niles had calmed his breathing and, in a gesture of friendship, accepted the apology. Kista had mentioned his displays of strength in the arena more than once, and certainly the impression he had made then as champion had lingered until now in the imagination of the other dignitaries. These must have been remembering the laurels of victory placed on the bovine head, the opponents he had pivoted on the ground with his triumph, the acclamations of a crowd of which they had been a part.

    Prostrating himself on his knees before the Prince, the imposing minotaur emphasized the latter authority, submitting to his judgment and forgiveness. Their friendship, it did not matter if real, would be the cement of that alliance once again.

    Alexander immediately got him up again, not even giving him a chance to get his legs dirty.

    "The death of our beloved Queen Kirke has been a blow to everyone here," if the Prince had noticed the doubtful glances, he did not give it away. His eloquence had returned incisive, devoid of smears. "We are all gathered here for one reason," the fallen toys were put back in their places, with particular care. Piece by piece that model had returned to its original state, indeed it had been enriched with new additions, which painted the current tragic picture more accurately. "To win. But what is victory, I ask you. Repel back the hordes from the Great Plains? Or take the Equestrian King''s head as a trophy? To establish a fleeting peace before our descendants find themselves having to relive our history, our endeavors, albeit with uncertain outcomes? It is all these things, and more. I won''t lie: our chances at the moment are decidedly against us. In a couple of months all the cities that make up the Union could find themselves destroyed or reduced to miserable servitude."

    A voice rose. It belonged to one of the members of Franklin''s merchant guild. A smooth-bearded dwarf, who wore a suit very similar to those that could be seen in the cities to the south of the Theocracy. "Why should we follow you, then? Why not surrender, when there is still time to do so?" That question, that same question, had been asked countless times since Antilene came to the Union and would most likely continue to be asked in the future.

    Why fight? Why not surrender? Why wield weapons when throwing them could have prevented the pain, the suffering?

    There was always a why in everything. A why that justified, a why that uplifted, a why that sent forward.

    Adjusting the sleeves of that expensive fabric the representative gave a tug on the nose that could only be described as deadly. "This we want to know, my Prince. To fight, to send our loved ones to certain death, to put our freedom and survival at stake, we ask for a reason. Is it not reason that separates men from beasts, after all? Will the price we must pay not be too high?"

    "It will not!" Alexander unleashed a devilish grin. Some might have ventured that he was only waiting for that moment. Antilene would have agreed with that hypothetical stranger with few reservations. The Prince snapped his fingers in a theatrical gesture, no doubt prepared beforehand. "Because we have a secret weapon."

    "And where would this powerful weapon be found?" This time it was the mayor of Valencia who raised doubts. The obese tabaxi sweated like -if not more- a nun in a pleasure house, something that most nuns usually did.

    Satrap Tiribazus in chains had not been convincing enough, but the half-elf was grateful for her poor ability to impose herself in memory.

    Antilene felt the gazes of Kista and Sir Niles pointing at her. The half-elf grabbed one of the pieces of cheese that lay on the food table at the right side of the room, pretending nothing had happened. The cheese would have been said to be made from goat''s milk, but in that place being sure of something was not truly mathematical. Blissful ignorance, therefore.

    What could it have been, after all?

    "That, at the moment, I cannot reveal. But I can assure you that it is very close to us. How do you think Karnasus was freed in such a short time? I will be frank with you. No matter how high the skills of the winners of our tournaments, or the Dark Knight, or myself, are." Dramatic pause for effect. If there was a dormant genius in Prince Alexander, it was awakened overwhelmingly on those occasions. Nor was it difficult to guess who had instructed him. "A fortified city presided over by two Immortals and a fierce army from the Great Plains would have been an impossible feat for anyone without a trump card."

    He was convincing them. He was regaining if not their devotion, their attention.

    "We thought it was you who defeated the Equestrian King, like you did at the start of the war. Are we to consider your victories a lie?"

    Alexander retorted promptly. The confidence of one who knew he had the upper hand was on his side, guiding his speech. "On the contrary. The mere fact that we are here today is proof enough of what I claim. Dead men tell no tales, and I am here, am I not? Or someone would like to disagree?"

    A faint murmur echoed. No one, to Antilene''s chagrin, tried to question Prince Alexander regarding his presence at that council. For the rest, not everyone had been convinced, but the path the lord of Karnasus had taken could not yet be described as wrong.

    General Chazos approached Prince Alexander, towering over him by a full stature. The stench of his breath also reached Antilene, who was standing a good distance away. She dared not imagine what the other interlocutor was feeling. Bugbears like him made even their hobgoblin cousins look like helpless kittens. Of all the races belonging to the goblin family, the bugbears stood out in strength and intelligence, but coarseness continued to be an integral part of his character.

    "Beppo Allo risks annihilation! As does Karnasus, my lord¡­" Chazos proclaimed, bringing a certain vigor to the discussion. The general''s military manners were reflected in his disingenuous, lashing out. The protocol with which he addressed a peer was followed to the letter, but particular additions -such as the no-frills cadence, the poise as erect as the hardest steel, the ''lord'' cast with exaggerated emphasis- invited that disrespect to be tamed. "If we all must die, I prefer to do so wielding a sword, and not bowing my head like a coward. Prince, are you ready to do the same?"

    A life of nobility, spent in command, was a constant test.

    Chazos, like many others, was looking for someone who would be worth serving if he had to push himself to the end. The other dignitaries pricked up their ears, intrigued. If they did not agree with the general''s brusque ways, they could at least approve of the need for a leader who would prove himself capable.

    Alexander did not hesitate. Hesitation was defeated. "Yes," he replied, impassive, standing proudly bearing the coat of arms of the sixteen-pointed sun, the emblem of Karnasus. That single utterance was enough.

    The giant bugbear dribbled his teeth in a sneer, unleashing jaws that could have challenged oricalchum in hardness. Surprise struck Antilene to see that the whiteness of those fangs was immaculate. "Then let us die together, boy. Carrying as many half-horses as possible together."

    "I have no intention of dying. Like I said, we have a secret weapon."

    The general''s laughter echoed back sharp as glass. One could feel the happiness in it from the way he didn''t stop. "Then I hope it really is as reliable as you claim!" Although he did not shift the direction of his glance, Antilene was certain that he was eyeing her. "Can this trump card of yours possibly be doubled? Be mass-produced? Because the Equestrian King is about to use our asses to redecorate, if you haven''t noticed. And having a plan should be the bare minimum when you are going to renovate. An old carcass like mine is not suitable for the luxurious walls of an imperial palace, but a young human, strong and handsome like you, might prove a perfect trophy to display above the fireplace." Chazos did not lose his good humor, as if the prospect intrigued him. In all probability, he just wanted to test the reaction of the prince of Karnasus.

    "They''re on their way here," Alexander moved all the pawns into one spot,regardless of the future foreshadowed by the bugbear. "Orcneas was a distraction. They aim to take this city back. Should it fall again, the spirits of those who still want to fight will follow soon after."

    "Are you proposing that we don''t move?"

    "I am proposing that we proceed as planned. We will annihilate Orcneas'' invaders, liberating the city by the sea. Then we will turn around and wipe out the almost certain siege at Karnasus."

    The holes in that plan were wider than the holes in the cheese Antilene was munching on.

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    Sir Niles made no delay in his objections. "If you were wrong, my Prince, we would find ourselves surrounded. It would be a disaster." The fog of worry hovered so much among those present that a knife could have sliced through it.

    Alexander shook his head. "I will not be wrong. After conquering East and West Gaith, the only viable roads are those heading for Orcleans or Karnasus," he began moving the pawns around the table, illustrating his assumptions. "Grand Wythes is of little strategic importance, and Greater Listaran lies too far away. It would require a tight march through rugged territory, with the risk of being hit from behind. Orcleans gives an outlet to New Orcleans and Beppo Allo. East Gaith towards Karnasus. The first time they hit us they merely conquered Karnasus as a symbolic gesture. Now they will not show as much mercy. Once these cities are subdued, the Union will easily capitulate."

    Judging by the funerary shadow he cast over each of the representatives, the Prince''s arguments had a solid foundation. Truthfulness, however, was not synonymous with reassurance.

    Kista exchanged a few words with Mirina, then took the floor. "Let''s say you''re right. We will intercept the first army towards Orcleans, while the second will head here. What about the Equestrian King? He''s most likely to be in one of the two armies."

    "That''s the gamble. I''m willing to bet that the Equestrian King will head here, to claim the throne of Karnasus. The idea of making once again the heart of the Union his property is too tempting," without anyone noticing, except for the half-elf, Alexander slightly shifted his gaze towards her for a few seconds. Did he intend to find confirmation in what he said? "And then, once he shows up, he can fall into our trap."

    "What if you''re wrong?"

    "...I will accept the consequences." Consequences which, in that case, had only one assured result.

    "Bah! Nothing is certain in war," General Chazos snorted. "I approve. Beppo Allo is definitely in the crosshairs of those overgrown horses. I''m willing to bet on it. If they want to graze our grass they''ll have to be prepared to bend over first."

    "There are many risks, there is no use denying it. The promptness with which we strike will be crucial, just as it will be essential that each of our armies move with the composure of a single man and the flexibility of a trained team."

    "That''s easier said than done, kid. But we can try."

    "We have to."

    Not everyone was of that opinion at the start, but Alexander managed after much discussion to get them, at least apparently, on his side. In short, the council disbanded and everyone withdrew to direct their own tasks. Sir Niles also headed off to his team of champions, to instruct and prepare them properly.

    In a hypothetical confrontation with the Equestrian King, they would be deployed in the front line, and the minotaur was aware of this. Whether he was excited or frightened, Antilene could not easily establish.

    In the end, only she, the Prince, his scribe, Kista and Mirina remained.

    The half-elf poured herself a glass of grape juice, particularly sweet, with just the right bitter aftertaste, and sipped it slowly, savoring it along with the silence that preceded the advice she would be asked to give.

    There was not long to wait.

    "We know we ask a lot of you, Lady Fouche."

    Protecting an entire city from a horde was no big deal. It was, in fact, comparable to her old post in the Theocracy. A nostalgic person could almost get caught up in homesickness.

    "Yes, but it is not a problem for me. Don''t lower your head like that. It does not benefit a prince. Rather, tell me, are you really convinced of what you have stated?"

    Alexander relaxed. The muscles of his face, which had been contracted to the utmost severity up to that moment, could enjoy the coveted rest. "In part. But I also want you to take a look at my bride-to-be. With Ijanya''s assassins still around, I don''t feel safe leaving her alone, with a meager guard."

    "You have done your calculations well." That concern did not give the impression of being prefabricated. Antilene couldn''t help but add a half-notch to her opinion of Alexander. "Let''s say I find myself doing nothing except enjoying the view from the walls of Karnasus. What would happen in that case?"

    The man''s fingers touched, wobbling. "We would be forced to ask you to head for Orcneas as soon as possible."

    The half-elf shrugged. "Even the fastest mages would take too long using flight magic. I would be too late."

    "This is precisely why we were planning to turn to your homeland." At that point, it was clear why all those who remained shared one thing in common: the race to which they belonged. A pact that had to remain hidden was now on the table, just as concealed had remained the frictions that the multiculturalism of the Union could bring. Desperation could lead toward the more rational -or irrational, depending who was asked- path. "We are aware that the Draconic Kingdom relies on the cooperation of the Theocracy. Not that we are asking for auxiliary troops. It would be impossible with current finances to afford them."

    Antilene avoided emphasizing the fundamental difference between the Draconic Kingdom and the Union. It was not a matter of money, as one might have believed.

    A man and a minotaur, an elf and a troll, a dwarf and an orc could cooperate in daylight when peace was synonymous with everyday life. It was when danger knocked that it was determined whether that was just a pleasant illusion built with perfunctory care, or a fortress with a solid grounding.

    The half-elf pricked up her ears, struggling to remain inscrutable. "Oh," she feigned astonishment. "What do you intend to ask in this case?"

    "Teleportation magic."

    Alexander was moving down a dangerous road. In a way, however, it was also a test of confidence.

    In one fell swoop, not only would the Prince get a better idea of the power of a rival nation, but he would also be able to determine whether clandestine operations were being carried out on Union territory by the Theocracy.

    Antilene, in truth, was not certain that any of the Black Scripture members capable of accessing the fifth tier would be able to fulfill that request, since a familiarity with the place of arrival was still required.

    On the other hand, there was always the possibility that the Union had an enchanter capable of casting teleportation magic, and that was just a deception to get all her cards played.

    The best deceptions were sometimes built on top of other deceptions, with a dash of the unexpected thrown in for good measure. A castle whose foundation was based on falsehoods.

    "The most skilled liars are those who also lie to themselves, it is customary to say," Rufus had once warned her. "An inquisitor must pay attention not only to magic and enchantments, but also to the darkness of our personal depths. Such intricate mechanisms are built that truth itself becomes superfluous. At the risk that the knot they form becomes too complex to untie."

    "Then it will be enough to cut it with a sword to unravel it," she had replied. Wasn''t the simplest solution the most suitable way to solve a problem?

    The undead master had laughed. "Violence is not always the right solution. Sometimes, iron is not all there is." It was that time when Antilene had been unable to make up her mind whether her preceptor''s crypticity was a whim caused by his immortal nature, a quirk brought on by a boredom fueled by decades of lack of leisure or sheer bastardry that transcended any such vague and ethereal concept.

    Experience had led her to oscillate on each of those different alternatives, with varying degrees of reasonableness.

    ''But right now, I would give everything for iron to be enough.'' In the end, what Antilene feared was causing a snub to the Theocracy with her unconcern.

    And while the lord of Karnasus waited, the half-elf could not help but be silent. Classic quietness that revealed more than a thousand words, but whose meaning acquired different nuances depending on the listener.

    "The Theocracy is unable to give you the help you require. Not at this time." She feigned boredom. Would that have been enough to convince them of the stupidity of that request? Alexander''s frown induced a positive outcome, but the scribe and Kista maintained wax masks like expressions. Had they possessed the strength to sustain her gaze, the half-elf could have asserted their reaction more easily. "Or, at least, I am not the right person to engage in such negotiations. I could try to request a meeting, but it would require time that you cannot afford."

    There was no disappointment or dismay. Had it gone as planned, and had she, like a foolish girl, been beguiled?

    To right the wrong, extreme measures could have been taken. In that case, the Union would have fallen and the kingdoms of men would have found themselves a much less neutral neighbor.

    Politics was not the art of Antilene. The title of queen had never sounded so disingenuous to her heart. ''Even having the conviction that I had executed every move with the utmost care, it took very little-too little-to bring out a mistake, a carelessness.''

    "I understand. In that case, what can we do?"

    That rush of panic had a chance to fade. The Prince registered her reaction, but did not give it much thought. Drops of sweat pivoted on his forehead, despite the coolness brought by the dying season.

    ''Often, things are different than they appear,'' another of Rufus'' lessons. Not all of his teachings shone with originality. When he repeated those maxima, then, the pale white of his bones almost gave the impression to be imbued with sadness. Sadness that an undead could not know, only feign. Intensities forbidden to those who had abandoned flesh and blood. ''Perhaps what he claimed was not so wrong,'' Antilene thought, remembering those days, which were lost in a blink of an eye, in a heartbeat. ''The best liars are those who lie to themselves.''

    It remained to be seen whether Antilene could match her master in the art of trickery.

    The response, so far, had not settled on negative or positive, swinging between the two poles.

    The solution came from Kista. The mayor of Bebard had almost smiled -happiness was untoward in such a current situation- in venturing her proposal. "Queen Kirke left many magical objects in her room. I had them cataloged as soon¡­ the grieving of the departing had subsided. A couple of them are capable of casting teleportation magic, just once. It will be enough to leave one of them in Lady Fouche''s hands."

    Not an everyday rarity. Ris''s story was cloaked in new eerie mysteries.

    Alexander frowned. A tiny flash of greed invigorated the light in his pupils. Even the little scribe at his side stirred imperceptibly, but not from excitement. Hard to pin down, but the half-elf almost had the impression that such news did not so much surprise the little man as hearten him. "We are talking about appropriating the treasures of one of our most illustrious cities. Ris will not be happy..."

    "Queen Kirke has given me permission to use her treasures in the event of her departure. Until the end of the war we will keep Ris in the dark, then we will see..."

    The outbreak of civil war would not have been entirely out of the question after such an unconscionable affront. Did it really make sense to drive out the Equestrian King and then find themselves fighting each other? Hesperation led to hasty choices fraught with risk, yet Kista was serene in soul, certain that the future would not reveal any surprises.

    "Lady Cabelia, someone will have to stay here to activate the device in case of need. Lady Fouche has never been to Orcleans, has she?" A few wrinkles of concern were running down Mirina''s face, complexioned by exhaustion. The Dark Knight''s sleep in recent days had evidently been nonregenerative. "I propose that you stay. Knowing you are safe would be a source of peace of mind for me - for everyone. The Union needs capable leadership should this expedition end in disaster."

    Kista was on the verge of opening her mouth to counter. A feeling that Antilene had only known in stories ran through the woman''s entire being when she looked at the knight; a feeling that now led her to curse herself. She adjusted the robe on her shoulders, putting back the purple it was as if she was putting back in its proper place what she swirled inside her as well, and in a calm and only seemingly indifferent voice she accepted the proposal.

    "I am not a warrior, nor a commander. You are right, dear knight, my place is here. If it will not create a nuisance for Lady Fouche, I will be glad to remain at her side."

    Antilene, now aware of the role of candles in a romantic moonlit evening, hastened to reply, "No trouble, Kista. Your company is delightful to me, you know."

    Mirina knelt down; the deep black of her armor blissed in the light of the room, sparkling with devotion. Gratitude overflowed in a violet river from her stare, brimming with gratitude. "I will be able to give my best, knowing you are safe, my lady. Already I have lost the one who was a mother to me... I could not bear to lose again those who occupy space in my heart."

    Kista merely nodded, deluding herself that this was enough. A person of her rank could not indulge in more dramatic effusions, for those were of the common man. The sense of duty, the drudgery of command, and all those other beautiful and prosaic phrases repeated to justify one''s misery had never been so dazzling, so enchanting. They had to be, for since the alternative was not contemplated.

    Alexander helped the Dark Knight get back on her feet. A thread of newfound hope guided the Prince''s voice. "Then it is settled. My ladies, let me take my leave so as to finalize the final preparations. We must move as soon as possible."

    A solemn bow, a quick hand-kiss to show their respects, and the lord of Karnasus had already disappeared through the darkness of the palace, followed by Mirina and Dionocrates.

    Left alone, Antilene and Kista headed for their own rooms too.

    "Let me accompany you, lady ... Antilene. I am aware that you are not yet familiar enough with the corridors of the palace." Nothing escaped Kista''s watchful eye, and a sincere thoughtfulness accompanied every gesture of Bebard''s mayoress.

    An unpleasant sensation seeped into the half-elf''s mind. The malevolent doubt that something did not fit perfectly into a blurred reconstruction, a stifled echo that warned that something was out of place. Try as she might, Antilene could not figure out what it was.

    "Mirina was very attached to the late Rea Kirke, wasn''t she?" She could not explain why on earth she had asked that very question. A simple way to fill the conversation, or something about sudden death that still didn''t sit well with her. Having in Ijaniya prime suspect was not supposed to lead to the exclusion of every possible alternative, was it?

    Kista blinked quickly, not expecting that topic of talk. The mayoress quickly recovered her composure, smiling meekly. "Yes. Mirina is originally from Ris, and has been under the tutelage of the Queen for years. Rea boasted of her as a daughter, and Mirina herself regarded Queen Kirke as equal to a second mother. She even competed in the Mutual Wallop, one of the most famous competitions in our sports games, under the banner of Ris, resulting in a landslide victory. It was then that everyone -not just her family- recognized her as the rightful successor to the Dark Knight." A faint blush colored the woman''s cheeks, who strove to cover it with the palm of her hand.

    "Have I awakened pleasant memories?" Antilene asked, unexpectedly intrigued.

    "We can say so," a graceful laugh lasting a few seconds enlivened those dull passages with life. The few attendants running from one end of the building to the other paused to enjoy such ephemeral calm. The world around had discarded the worries, if only briefly. "I don''t know whether to call it tradition, but it was not unusual for the winners of the games to offer victory to their beloved. That time, Mirina offered it to me."

    "Were you already ... intimate?"

    "Oh, not at all. We had met a few times during my diplomatic visits to Ris, that is. It just was a superficial acquaintance."

    "A bold move, in that case."

    In some parts of the world it might have been called in less flattering ways, but Antilene went along with the more libertine customs of the Union.

    "I felt myself dying of shame. I didn''t mind, though. I guess it helped me put my life in order. Shortly afterwards Mirina confessed to me that she, too, felt herself sinking in blush at making that statement before a cheering crowd, and only the dark-as-night helmet she wore prevented her from being saddled with the nickname ''Peppery Knight''."

    A good memory had the loving ability to make even the dullest day pleasant. On hearing that story Antilene even felt a tinge of envy, for a life of tournaments and chivalry, courtly love and sappy poetry.

    "Are you planning to get married when all this is over?"

    "Marriage is not so simple. My family has ruled Bebard for generations. Being the last of a dynasty is not always looked upon favorably." The half-elf could empathize with those words. What one wanted for oneself and what was right for those one was sworn to serve did not always coincide, indeed. It was almost categorical that they conflicted, for some derisory purpose. "Mirina and I made a promise to each other of eternity. But even eternity must be aware of the compromises that arise in such a long flow. But these are thoughts for the future. We are too young to think about marriage or other nonsense now, aren''t we?"

    "Yes," agreed Antilene. "Young girls like us should think about more suitable topics. Is there or is there not a war to be won and an inhuman horde to be driven away?"

    "The latter I will gladly leave to you." The two laughed together.

    By the time their destination had been reached, Antilene asked one last question. "Those magical items, how many did the Queen possess?"

    Kista looked away, an unusual gesture. "Ris has always been the most advanced city for magical development, but I am sure that Rea''s treasure was not the mere product of their technology. It was more related to the legacies of its past."

    That the late Queen of Ris had had access to a legacy comparable to the Six Great Gods? It was an intriguing prospect, especially if the half-elf''s hands had managed to get hold of them. An appropriate reward was to be expected after the services rendered.

    "Do you know anything about it?"

    The woman denied with the shaking of her head. "Only that it dates back more than two centuries. Rea always liked to speak in riddles."

    It coincided with Antilene''s idea of the old hag. "How did she die so easily?"

    "Sometimes things are not as they appear," Kista said. "No matter what magical powers she had, fatigue and old age had been battering Rea''s body for years now. Maybe ... she just let herself go when she had the chance."

    Was that possible? Antilene was not so sure, and even Kista did not give the idea that she was convinced.

    "Things are not always as they appear," the half-elf repeated those words aloud, which had decided to haunt her that day. "Yet sometimes that''s just the way it is. We fill with difficulty what is easy to accept, because triviality bores us."

    "You''re overthinking it," Kista ran index and middle fingers over her chin, thoughtful. "Enjoy a good rest, Lady Fouche. The night will bring you counsel, in anticipation of the hard work ahead."

    "Perhaps you are right. Good night, Lady Cabelia."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    As expected, the following days saw a flurry of preparations. Dignitaries, messengers, soldiers, and even simple scullery men running from one side to the other, without stopping.

    When the Prince and his retinue finally left the city, a melancholy air had enveloped the whole of Karnasus. Walking through the alleys, listening to the chatter of passersby, Antilene could sense the worry, the fear that mounted at every corner. The remaining garrison was stretched to the bone and would not withstand an assault launched against the walls for long.

    Some reinforcements had left from Greater Listaran and Grand Wythes, but when they would join their defenses no one could know.

    The half-elf spent hours scanning the horizon ahead, expecting to spot the first signs of the enemy in the distance; small dark dots that would grow clearer and more distinct in a future that never decided to come. She remained seated on the marble of the fortifications, ignoring the murmurs of the few sentries mounting guard, with the sun and clouds keeping her company most of the time.

    "Have you noticed anything interesting by being here?"

    There was no need to turn around to recognize who was addressing her.

    "After a lifetime of staring at dark walls, a golden sunrise has something special."

    "Did you never see the morning rise when you were in the Theocracy?"

    "Sometimes, when I woke up really early. Many were the evenings when I happened to lie down early, for lack of alternatives to spend the night. As you can well imagine, towards the early hours of the day I was already bright and snappy. Then I would head to the rooftops of the Cathedral and watch the citizens wake up and head to their places of work. The capital was brisk already this early. So full of life. It gave meaning to what my task was."

    The first rays arrived and brought with them their intense warmth, crushing the icy cold that brushed her skin. Antilene rubbed her hands together for warmth, noticing her breath materialize into a silvery frost. She repeated that gesture a few times, finding amusement in something so insignificant.

    "Most of the time, though, I watched from my seat," the half-elf continued, letting her brother sit next to her. Logem handed her a cup of steaming milk and honey, which she willingly accepted. Antilene almost had a quiver of pleasure when she took her first sip. "In those instances, sunlight filtered through the large stained glass windows, playing with those reflections, almost animating the beautiful figures carved in the glass. I don''t think I am able to do justice to that splendid sight."

    The elf''s equipment shone brightly in the sunlight, highlighting the splendid craftsmanship of his first-rate gears. For her part, Antilene, covered her battle paraphernalia -a splendid adamantium armor given to her by Alexander before he left and assortments of priceless magical items from the Theocracy- under mundane clothing. A dark blouse, a pair of gloves, manticore leather pants and ermine shoes, suitable for rough trails.

    "Can we say it was beautiful?"

    "Yes. Yes, it was beautiful." The legs went back and forth in the void. A fall from the height they were at would have lasted quite a while.

    "Here," when Antilene was finished with the hot drink, Logem handed her a bag containing an assortment of various treats. The half-elf pulled out one that looked so much like the cream puffs they made in the Theocracy, although very small in size.

    "What is it?"

    "A local specialty. Small pralines filled with a very sweet cream made from the yolks of the eggs of a particular species of griffon vultures. The milk, on the other hand, is from ordinary cows, but raised with selected fields of emerald grass."

    For a sweet tooth they proved sufficient. "Not bad," murmured Antilene, after quickly downing one in a single mouthful. "Considering where we are, it''s a wonder there aren''t bugs or other such oddities in it."

    The stay in the Union had stimulated attention in even the most unusual fields. Having awareness of what you were stuffing into your mouth was a priority not to be overlooked.

    "Some varieties have a type of grasshopper as part of the recipe. To be specific, it''s the wings that have a flavor very similar to sugar. It seems that many frogmen from the swamp near Tob are crazy about them. I tasted one, but they had a strangely caramelized aftertaste. It was weird." Logem stared at her as if he had just said the most natural thing in the world. "I thought it more prudent to stay within the realm of purely human preferences, but if you''re curious to give them a try they shouldn''t be hard to find."

    "I''d rather eat lizardmen''s paws."

    "I will remember that," the elf tilted his head slightly, registering that information in some jamb of his memory. "There are fine brands of oil that make them a meal fit for kings when properly used as a base for frying, but many races are reluctant to venture into such unusual experiences." It was difficult to assert whether he was the one who did not understand too much refined sarcasm or she was the one who was taken for a proverbial ride all too easily.

    "I didn''t take you for a cooking enthusiast."

    "I''m not, but during my travels I''ve been exposed to many cultures, and I''ve obsessively jotted down any details that might be useful to my mission." The immense library she had seen in the lodge in Evasha was still carved limpidly in Antilene''s mind. The perfect guide to eliminating one''s father was enshrined in hundreds and hundreds of shelves. A best seller could have been made out of it. "All that information now laps here, coming out at the most unexpected circumstances."

    "You never know when it might come in handy," and, to be fair, part of Antilene could not refrain from feeling a modicum of envy toward the elf she called brother. A lifetime of adventures and discoveries, which had tickled her imagination on pages flipped over and over again, until not even the miracle called magic had scratched its worn yellow paper, its folds soiled with greasy fingerprints. "Perhaps our mysterious enemy has as their weakness an ointment made of troll feet sweat."

    "That would be quite bizarre," Logem said.

    "Yeah, it would be."

    Logem was older than her, and had his own centuries on his shoulders. He was not inclined to talk about his past, but Antilene was pretty sure the elf would not be reluctant to share it with her. It was just a matter of finding the right occasion. Not today, not tomorrow. Someday, not too far away.

    As was its whimsical habit, time passed quickly with the onset of relaxation.

    The two of them had finished with that unusual breakfast when Logem decided to turn to more serious matters. The guards were beginning to shift, flocks of birds were moving through one of the nearby thickets, and the cloudless sky was a blue that promised a calm and peaceful day, as the previous ones had been.

    "That magistrate Kosta you asked me to look for¡­ I didn''t get a spider from the hole. Karnasus is big and I am bereft of informants and contacts."

    One could begin to sense the hustle and bustle of the city waking up with its inhabitants. That continuous trammel that decorated the landscape with artificial and mechanical sounds, lost in a totally incomprehensible rhythm.

    "It doesn''t matter," Antilene reassured him. "Kista''s guards also inspected every neighborhood from top to bottom, getting the same results. Either he managed to leave the city, or ... The best way for him to hide is in front of everyone''s eyes, I guess." The network of fortifications where they were located let no point escape. The royal palace, located at the highest part of the citadel, towered over everything, casting its shadow.

    Ahead of them, something could be glimpsed on the horizon.

    Her brother nodded. "Even today the halfling you led here did not leave the room. She and her father barricaded themselves in there, not even letting the servants in. It is very strange. You''d think they wouldn''t want curious people."

    "I''m not surprised. Terror plays nasty tricks. And if you have to hide your dirty laundry, there is no better bed than your own where to throw it." Although it was unusual, that behavior could be justified with the fear that the killer was still nearby. "I''ll stop by later to take a look, when things get more chaotic," the half-elf sighed, "I always complain about inactivity, but I didn''t think having a whole list of commitments could be so unpleasant. Rather, how are the others in our group organizing?"

    "They have all decided to stay here with you. Etienne and Melody included. They are not fighters and I don''t think Agravaine and I will be able to manage to protect them without any problems in case of an invasion."

    There was a pause of a few seconds. Pulling up with her nose, Antilene smelled an unusual earthy odor mixed with the other smells the wind carried. Logem, whose perception senses were far more developed, crowded. A cacophony of screams and various screeches forced them to raise their tone of voice, which had remained subdued until then.

    It was starting.

    "What about the three former slave girls? Do you think they can be of use to you?"

    "A ranger, a priest, and a druid always have utility. If the years as slaves had not diluted their abilities, they would have been good elements." Even the elf''s impassivity could not hold back a note of disgust. "Your homeland has made our people pay the price of betrayal with blooms of interest."

    If the magical or combative abilities of elven slaves made their value skyrocket, the harsh regime of chains crippled their growth, preventing them from rising in power and revolting. It was, with some perverse adjustments, the same philosophy applied to Theocracy soldiers to obtain specialized experts in individual domains, but in reverse. Erya Uzruth had in all likelihood employed the same systems as their home nation to make the three even more obedient.

    "We will make do with what we have on hand," Antilene said, not caring too much about it. "If things go wrong, I have left a teleportation item for you. I still have many given to me by the Theocracy. Don''t make trouble using it," Antilene stood up, shaking off the dust that had accumulated on her pants with a few pats. She huffed in annoyance at the incessant noise that had no end. "Look at them running."

    Around the half-elf, the small number of soldiers posted on the walls did their best to ignore her. Low-ranking corporals loitered around to check that everything was running smoothly, aware that more than one responsibility rested on their shoulders.

    "If a battle should break out here as well, we should choose someone to be elevated as a hero of the nation. I would prefer a human, but the raw material the Prince has left us with ... leaves a lot to be desired," extending the right hand to her brother to help him up, Antilene cast a glance at some of those present. An orc with two large swords on his back and a black-feathered birdman clutching an enchanted staff were, in her approximate judgment, the most promising. The rest, to be kind, were conscripts with little experience, not yet baptizedthed in the blood of the battlefield. "What do you say?"

    The walls, now filled in, were a jumble of faces and physiognomies coming together. The fighting aura was mediocre and the equipment of those soldiers barely sufficient, in the minority of cases. In most, they had been forced to make do. Truly the reserves of the reserves had been deployed to protect that bastion.

    "If you repeat Evasha''s massacre, I don''t think they will be very convincing," that response from Logem gave the impression of being an unconvinced grumble.

    "We will find something. Alexander''s scribe remained at the palace. We may very kindly suggest to him to give me a hand. Some pens have the ability to make their writing very convincing, who knows why. How did the Gods say it? A quid pro quo."

    Someone ordered them to leave, ranting very rudely. Antilene silenced him with a single look. Good manners were a discovery dating back to the dawn of history, which was precisely why many people tended to forget about them unfortunately.

    "What does that mean?"

    "Something in place of something else. Doing each other a favor. He will help me craft a story for the bards, and I''ll let his head stick to the neck for a reasonable time."

    "A generous offer."

    "You know I have a tender heart."

    The clouds were still white. The black rising from the earth was dust, dust caused by hooves shaking the earth and marching waves and waves of centaurs from the great plains. Black that did not glow from the darkness of Charon''s Guidance, now unfurled, now in the hands of the half-elf.

    "Shall we begin?"

    When night would come, when the moon would light them with its passage, the disturbed peace would return to Karnasus. Of all treasure, the most precious.

 Chapter 55: There and back again (part. 1)

    Chapter 55

    There and Back Again (part.1)

    When Elijah awoke that morning, the sun had yet to rise. The muscles in his bones ached in a rhythm of soreness and pain, and as he tossed and turned in bed for a few minutes before deciding to finally get a realization hit him with heedless violence.

    ''I am old.''

    The room he had rented was small, barely enough to allow one devotee to move at ease in that narrow space.

    The dining hall was not much larger, but it had a small fireplace that, once lit, allowed him to change without feeling too much pressure from the cold. Elijah put on his robe and allowed himself a quick breakfast. Going down to the sacristy, there was no surprise to find it empty. Only dullness. A bitterness that was familiar at this point, for how sad it was to admit.

    ''No one today either.'' The Cult of the Three Stars had not been very successful in the Union to his displeasure, while in his old home, the old Empire of Sorsilia, had been close to be religion of state. ''Better clean up.'' With the aid of¡ºClean¡», resolving the matter would have taken a few seconds at most, but the dust accumulated since the night before was insignificant, and he needed to conserve mana for the rest of the day''s incumbencies.

    The broom provided by the owner was a solid piece of wood, but with a few protruding splinters on the sides that had a bad habit of scratching his beautiful plumage. The beak was on the verge of opening to snort, but even that gesture appeared insignificant and superfluous to him.

    For an owlin, that pace was intolerable. For Elijah, barely sufficient. The Union did not have enough nocturnal races to justify a life spent under the stars as was the custom in many communities of the Old Empire. It had been hard to get used to at first, and even now his senses were all out of sorts, strained by an unnatural lifestyle. Magic easily relieved the weariness of body and mind, but healing the soul would need another miracle.

    The small mansion he had rented would have quickly bled out all his resources if not for the services he rendered to Karnasus, the host city that now was his home. Elijah waited a few minutes in the vain hope that some onlooker might decide to enter before closing the door.

    ''Perhaps by lunchtime there will be some improvement.'' That simple phrase was the consolation that accompanied him whenever he left his little church.

    Crushed between other palaces, the building was bare, but well cleaned and maintained. In the suburbs where immigrants like him gathered, courtesy and friendliness were the perfect cures for not lingering in homesickness and regret. With his left wing Elijah greeted more than one neighbor who did not hesitate to return his good morning. The smell of freshly baked bread, a kind tribute from the oven a few steps away, made walking down the street an altogether pleasant experience.

    ''Did I miss something?''

    If there had been any valuables the priest would have put more care into checking if everything had been locked up perfectly, but as things stood, the only precious items were the necklace of healing, granting access to the incantation¡ºLight Recover¡»twice a day, and the ring of temperance, whose properties relieved fatigue every forty-eight hours, preventing him from sweating like a madman whenever he had to hurry the garrison.

    In truth, the prospect of a thief entering his house did not bother him much. There was always the possibility that a snooping intruder would stumble upon his texts and notes, even to the point of deciding to convert to the beauty of the night. It was a meager hope, of course, but at present it was the only one Elijah had to be able to carry out the mission entrusted to him by the archbishop.

    ''Mission I am failing miserably.'' After years in the Union the owlin had come to realize that it would be easier to proselytize a horde of drunken trolls than the citizens of the Cities State Alliance who remained faithfully attached to their traditions and customs. ''Around here there are hundreds of different faiths, and mine is just a small grain in the sand. Maybe I should contact the capital and get a new area assigned to me. It''s been a long time since I last received new instructions.''

    ''New indications would have been sent already. Is it a delay, perchance? Or a plan I can''t envision?'' The few engraved¡ºMessage¡»scrolls available -archbishop''s concession- were still secure in his bag, but reluctance to use it without justified cause blocked any initiative. The fear of wasting them in vain was too persistent in the back of Elijah''s mind. Compunction for the lack of initiative be damned.

    And then where would he go? ''The initial sum, ended. The protectors of my security, perished.'' If an insignificant priest like him could make ends meet, it was only thanks to the patronage of the Karnasus army which made use of his skills as a divine caster. A temple, even one as small as his, was sustained by the offerings of the faithful. If those were not there ... making do was the only option.

    And because the other faiths would frown upon him if he offered his services as a paid healer, Elijah was practically forced to join the army as an auxiliary. The loneliness of his current condition was his only friend.

    ''War will soon ravage this whole part of the world. I will have to find an alternative¡ªand quickly.'' The rays of dawn struck him in the face, forcing a squint from his eyes. The streets were still empty, and the owlin decided to fly to save time. His wings started to flap in measured movements, avoiding wasting too much energy. That physical activity would warm his gray feathers which were already beginning to numb from the morning chill.

    Streets that were beginning to fill up intersected with corners to which the first lights were posted. From above what could be glimpsed was flat and ordinary calm, delightful in its incessant repetition day after day.

    "Oh, master Elijah, it is a pleasure to see you again this morning." Commanding the garrison was a low-ranking sergeant whose race was not easy for the owlin to discern.

    He had a steel carapace shining of silver and the small, graceful head of an ant, which suggested his belonging to a particular breed of anthropomorphic insects, whose declinations in abilities and characteristics were as many as the stars in the firmament.

    ''A formian, if a bet was to be held. The pawns don''t lie.'' Ant-men had more upright, humanoid legs and back. Their trotting was not synonymous with crawling.

    "Are my tasks decided already?"

    "There is not much to do today," Traces of sugar on the nostrils. Each species knew its own drug, accepting the ramifications. "Give the troops the usual check-up and stay until the end of the shift, then you can take your leave. With any luck, we''re in for another uneventful day."

    Although Elijah had heard his interlocutor''s name at the times of introductions, the intricate and endless combinations of letters and words made a mockery of a polyglot fool. Too many consonants repeated one after another, without the break of a vowel. Something like Artrporttrop or Artprtiilrpt. Forced to act as a second father to him, he had renamed him Artie for no one but himself.

    "Don''t the scouts have anything to report?" Mere curiosity. There was no risk of being deemed an expert because of that candid innocence.

    "Scouts? That''s a good one." The antennae on the sergeant''s head swung. It was a reaction of amusement. A rebellion against the tyranny of ennui. "There are barely enough soldiers left to keep a thin line on the walls. And none of them have experience regarding reconnaissance activities. None of them have experience in the art of warfare, actually. "

    It was an intricate specialization, there was a need to acknowledge that. That current circumstances did not make it optimal was a different sort of argument.

    "What will be our strategy if they should attack us, then?"

    "Who knows. I only got orders to stand by." Both of them knew that most of the talents and skills had left the capital along with the royal army. If not for the improper circumstances, the image of an emptying anthill would have fit like a glove.

    Artie had reached his current rank simply to leave someone to run the whole show. The spear resting at his side gave off a faint trace of magical energy, a fourth-rate enchantment that would have been called poor quality even by the last of the apprentices. He wore no armor or other equipment because they most likely did not compare to his natural protections.

    "Do we intend to surrender, then?"

    "Quite frankly, I don''t see how we could resist. The few remaining lieutenants are considering surrendering the city without a fight."

    "Treason?"

    "Or survival."

    "As a matter of fact, the soldiers do not seem eager to throw themselves into the fray."

    Artie offered him a sugar cube, which Elijah politely declined. At their first meeting the formian had handed him a cup of greenish liquid, which the owlin had readily identified as the product of nutrients regurgitated and reworked from the new sergeant''s crop. In the antmen''s colonies it was seen as a gesture of exquisite courtesy, but the strong toxic component made it a tad exaggerated for a first meeting, in Elijah''s frank opinion. Thankfully, the label of ill-mannered had been avoided by pouring it with unexpected skill into a nearby plant, unnoticed. An owlin had prevented a nasty figure with the sacrifice of a vegetal friend. Elijah would not forget it.

    "Officially we have to hold out to the last man, but the Prince himself has given instructions not to waste too many resources. As if we had any in the first place," the jaws on Artie''s face twitched right and then left in what must have been laughter. "Those centaurs devastated my colony the first time they invaded these lands, forcing me and the other survivors to settle in the cities. I lost ten brothers and seven sisters, not to mention the havoc they wreaked on our queen mother. I do not deny that I would like to take revenge, however, good intentions alone are not enough."

    The prospect of fighting was not pleasant for Elijah either. His skills in defending himself were feeble. After the loss of his last escort in one of his last journeys, the owlin had waited for a long time for another one to be provided, but the request, like the last ones made, had been disregarded.

    "I understand," he nodded to the soldier, without revealing his true sympathies. "We will find a solution. They won''t necessarily attack in the first place." The centaurs of the Great Plains had proved ruthless with opponents and rebels, but fair and just with citizens who accepted their rule. Some would even venture that their rule might have been better than that of the Prince.

    After all, they had lowered taxes as compensation for the invasion, eradicated criminal syndicates in a short time and established extraordinary courts that administered justice in speed of courtesy and procedures that were unbelievable.

    Some of them had even proved receptive to his preaching. The religion of the three stars and the worship of heaven had much in common, so much so that they even seemed to be bifurcations of the same starting point. ''No despoliation of self by higher beings. Only harmony and peace to be sought in the individual. Power granted by an ordered creation that needs no creators.''

    A tinge of regret had struck Elijah the morning he realized that the invaders had been driven out. The owlin had put up only one tower of that sand castle, and the tide had carried that away as well, lacking compassion. Being at the mercy of events did not make acceptance any less of a hardship.

    "It would indeed be a miracle. If you were right I would be glad to hear one of your sermons as a reward, Master Elijah."

    ''You, who have a pantheon more exterminated than your family? I would have finished explaining the whole history of my belief, that you wouldn''t even get halfway through the list.''

    "Let us hope that this tranquility continues then. Now, with permission I would direct myself to the performance of my duties."

    "Of course, of course. I won''t stop you any further."

    After taking his leave, the owlin headed for the small office where he had been allocated. In truth, there was not much to do there. Simply, every soldier who was to take station had to have a quick check-up by him to make sure they were in ready health to fulfill their duties.

    Since this was a very perfunctory inspection, magic was not used unless absolutely required for the sake of saving mana. Elijah, who had traveled far and wide, was perfect for the task and given his experience with a wide variety of races, it was easy for him to recognize at a glance the signs of illness or exhaustion.

    In his pilgrimages he had come into contact with many of the cultures that lived in the Union shared by parts of Sorsilia, the republic of Argland, the Commonwealth that stretched to the center of the continent, the kingdoms of Bahal Geesi and Qualisandir to the south.

    Even in the great principality of the Minotaurs that lay in the center of the world.

    How magnificent the tomb dedicated to the Great Sage was! Marvel of art and splendor! Beautiful Karnasus, with its narrow streets and palaces that hid decadence with wealth, was a pale imitation of a distorted idea of greatness by comparison.

    However, the City States had shown him that there was still much he had to learn about. ''Ignorance, thy name is humankind.''

    Humans had proved to be his weakness. Some resided in Sorsilia, but only in the outermost parts of the empire. Those few he had seen in the Argland territories had not made much of an impression on him. Otherwise, they were treated as nothing more than pack animals, at best. At worst ... nature was wonderful precisely because of that diversity.

    With that pink pig-like skin that changed color and hue at the drop of a hat they always undermined his healer''s certainty. Soft, lacking feathers and scales. The mouth had no fangs or organs for sensory perception. The field of vision was too dependent on light. No wings to fly, or gills to breathe underwater. And, icing on the cake, their mortality rate was extremely high and their lifespan abysmal.

    His unfamiliarity with these strange apes without fur, then, meant that his experience with them was entirely lacking. If there had been no priest belonging to that species, his job would have been much more thankless.

    "Good morning to you, master Elijah."

    The man in question was a worshiper of an ordinary cult, which did not stand out for originality. Four deities, each representing an element. Fire, earth, water, wind. The transmutation of the powers that ruled the world into anthropomorphic gods was scarcely a novelty.

    "Good morning."

    Jean-Joel, that was his name. And, as far as had been ascertained, he came from a purely human nation nearby. A real rarity.

    Despite the many differences between the two of them, they had maintained a cordial relationship, after an initial distrust.

    "She is already here," Jean-Joel announced, as he sat at one of the two desks, intent on scribbling on a crumpled sheet of paper. Dull blond hair framed a face marred by the wrinkles of time. "There''s not much to do today. No soldiers have any problems to take care of. If you want, I can provide for your attendants."

    He called him a priest, but Elijah recognized that Jean-Joel was only an itinerant healer, with few affiliations with the clergy associations nowadays. There were never enough divine casters, and the human had rescinded the chains of his church, without giving up his faith. Belief without structure, in the man''s opinion, was true devotion.

    "I thank you, but there will be no need. And are you sure about what you say?"

    "Very sure. Before I started my shift I saw her going up to the walls, as she has been doing every morning the last couple of days."

    "Good."

    The space they lacked could not have been said to be unwelcoming, but on a bright day like that the owlin much preferred to conduct his visits in the open air. He entered the cramped space only to set down some rolls he had prepared earlier, checking that they were all in place.

    As Jean-Joel had foretold him, there was not much work to be done. Dawn had recently passed, and Elijah was already on the walls, looking for her.

    The owlin had first seen her not long before, when the Prince''s troops had already moved away from the city. It had been a bolt of lightning, an epiphany. The cult of the three stars worshiped the night, worshiped the peace and serenity that silence brought.

    The crown of the three stars, the empire''s most sacred relic, was a testament to that devotion. Arrived on their lands centuries earlier, just seeing it had convinced the founding fathers and mothers of the church that there were no gods in this world. Only the eternal beauty of darkness, and the few lights that illuminated a bottomless pit, in a slumber that was meant to never end.

    Elijah had observed the crown only once, in passing, when he was studying as an apprentice in the capital. Ecstatic, he had treasured that brief fragment of an image in the deepest and most precious part of his memory.

    If memory was the soul, that had been the defining key to his individuality.

    When he saw the girl, the first time, it was like reliving that moment of his youth. An elf -the conformation of her ears left little doubt- who sat there every morning, punctually, to watch the sunrise. She would stay for a few hours, without anyone disturbing her, with solitude as her only companion.

    Like everyone else, the owlin had seen the moon shining in the sky in the late evening hours, in the early morning chimes. Never, however, had he observed it when the sun was already high in the sky. That would have been nonsense.

    ''Yet, there she is.'' That morning, he would take courage and speak to her. He wanted to know. It was a basic need that had to be met. ''Why, when I look at her, do I see the three-star crown? Why, when I look at her, do I see the moon?''

    Giving all his courage, Elijah approached, only to notice that she was not alone that time. ''Another elf?'' he wondered. The newcomer, like her, was also of a magnetic, almost unnatural, beauty. Not quite comparable, though.

    This was not mere attraction, for as admirable as the elves'' grace and ethereality were, they remained something foreign to him. ''Such resemblance. Could they be siblings?''

    The elves conversed with each other, paying no heed to everything around them. It was paradoxical. On the one hand, sentries trembling over something that now even for Elijah did not matter; on the other those two who kept talking alone, uncaring of the world that revolved around them.

    He who had the attributes of a king.

    She who shone like the eternal night.

    No, it was not her.

    "How many?" It was the elf.

    "Thirty a day. Five in total at the same time."

    "Pay attention."

    "Always."

    It had been a kind of three-pronged spear she now wielded. Indeed, more than a spear it was an extremely large, almost gigantic, wand, especially compared to the girl''s thinness.

    ''It is not a spear. Nor a wand... A scythe? What an unusual weapon.'' Scythes were tools for harvesting. Some were modified to serve as weapons, true. ''Calibrated to the physical models of the users. Adjusted for different and irregular limbs compared to normal humanoids.''

    "Elijah, you are here! What are you doing? Can''t you see what''s going on?" Jean-Joel was a pool of sweat. The priest looked at him as one would look at a madman. His hand rested on the owlin''s shoulder as his colleague caught his breath. "Haven''t you noticed that we are being attacked? The centaurs are here as of now."

    And he pointed with his free hand outward, beyond the walls, where the enemy had gathered. So many, they filled the horizon.

    "They are... They are here."

    "That''s what I told you. Don''t you see the crush around? We have to get ready. Now!"

    Soon all hell would break loose. Artie and his paragons had mustered what few defenses they could. Magic and arrows would be unleashed on their walls in moments, heralding the start of the conflict. The wind itself had stopped, as if its breath had been cut off, fibrillating awaiting the unfolding of events.

    A first tremor was felt.

    "Damn," cursed Jean-Joel. "They''ve already started!"

    "Where is the girl?!"

    "She has come down from the walls," Jean-Joel turned his head. A vein was on the verge of leaking from his forehead. "There she is!"

    The elf had jumped down. Elijah and his human companion had to lean out in turn to catch a glimpse of her. The army of the Great Plains was a troop of thousands of components, as many as there were stars in the sky. And it was well established that they had surrounded the rest of the city as well.

    Following the pattern of the previous time, the centaurs would strike at several points using their siege machines until they were able to cause a breach in the fortifications. At that point their numerical superiority would allow them to continue shelling the defenders as they surrounded them by taking the city from the inside. It was a simple but effective strategy that given their small numbers would not require long to grant success.

    "What is that elf doing?"

    A long shining bow, completely covered in gold. The willow wood trim. The string stretched to infinity. The arrow he shot.

    Elijah admired all this. The elf''s eyes were covered, his expression an indecipherable enigma. The first arc that crossed the sky dragged the arrow toward a path of stardust. The second arc was a rainbow after a heavy rain. The third, last he could glimpse, a leaf sinking into the deep lake.

    This was what the owlin was able to see. He did not resent his eyes for being blind to the rest. He did not resent his senses, for remaining on that endless chasm that united quiet and despair. When the rain fell, who was the saphead who would count the drops?

    If the process had been breathtaking, the result was no less impressive.

    There was a ceaseless rumbling in the earth. The smell of death already permeated the air, clothes, skin until it seeped under every muscle, every strand, triggering tremors of a primal sensation that could not be described.

    That did not need to be described.

    Death needed no trappings.

    The screams that surrounded him a deafening silence. The sky wept stone. The Druidic fire burned. It burned on the stone falling from heaven. It burned from the fireballs that poured down on them. It burned from Artie, who had been consumed by that madness. And who was now screaming in pain.

    Those were silence, too. It burned from Jean-Joel''s eyes, fixed on the long-bowed elf, still aiming at that horde.

    So much death.

    "We must go," the owlin spoke to someone undefined, as the wounded piled up, while the ground on which they rested groaned with endless tremors.

    "No! Look!"

    The walls gave way. Elijah felt the fortifications crumble, the arcane secrets that had woven and pasted their defenses crumbling at a dastardly violence. Most of the soldiers protecting them had already been exterminated. A handful of survivors led by an orc watched from the other part of the rift, mesmerized, the Union that had shattered.

    That small world dilapidated by ages that passed by in mere seconds. A natural disaster that had not caught them by surprise, because there was nothing to be surprised about. Civilizations had ended in a heartbeat, in a blink of an eye. Peak and decline sang the same tune, articulating the same melodic strains.

    It was not Karnasus, it was not the Union that would see the end that day. The new beginning would have to wait. Yet another triumph for stagnation.

    "The Emperor was right. The Emperor was right..." murmured Jean-Joel, running his fingers through his hair more than once, ignoring the sufferers who came to them for help, perishing in indifference. In his hands no longer rested the church of healing, but the spasm of the blind fanatic. "No. He was not right. It is worse, much worse. Or better? I have to report it to him, yes. I have to report it to him as soon as possible. Elijah, look! Behold how far humanity can reach. Behold, and repent!" By now the human was repeating everything in the throes of a mystical crisis. The abeyance of belief was dissolved by the frenzy of exaltation.

    Elijah could understand him.

    But pity him? That he could not do.

    The elf again strung his bow, preparing for more shots. The enemy''s arrows fell on him like the drops of a summer storm, regenerating after the long heat. Those that could hit him, at least.

    The one who surpassed the many, not limiting himself to quality. Quantity was of the mysterious archer, who hurled more projectiles than an army, who covered the clouds with his work, while concepts like distance and error escaped his aim.

    And all that fell short.

    Elijah saw it. The moon that had fallen to earth stood alone against the stars, just as the morning sun was now at its zenith. Echoes of death gushed from rottenness made of pure darkness giving birth to the most profane of existences. A chthonic creature contravening creation''s command. The night without light. The moon without stars. Only the infinite abyss of the cosmos, and the horrors that watched from that inscrutable distance.

    The cult of the three stars had spoken of the one who had delivered the jewel of the world into the hands of the first emperor of Sorsilia. At the dawn of every civilization, in that primordial cry they had called life, lay the secret of forbidden knowledge. The permanence of superstitions and legends that persisted to sway the prophecies of shamans and augurs, which could not be pondered by what was limited.

    The cult of the three stars had remembered those who had shaped creation in their image, those who had made the blasphemous sacred, and the sacred blasphemous. Of the Eight who had made the world One, and of the others who had followed in their wake.

    Of massacres that had foretold purification. Of filth that had been deemed pure. Five lights in a dark room, and choruses repeating in ecstasy, "Four lights, there are four lights!" The last cries of agony of a world doomed by its quest for possession and progress, on a quest to break free from their fate, and the Greed they had wrought with them.

    The cult of the three stars had taught of goodness. And it had preached of evil. Of the highest virtue. And of the deepest depravity.

    The three-star cult had spoken about the Players.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When Arsalan had woken up that morning, he was still a coward. Not that there was any great astonishment. The night brought counsel, not courage.

    Still vivid, in that awakening, echoed his father''s last words:

    "It doesn''t matter if you have courage. When the time comes it will be your fear that you will thank." With them, those words carried an unceasing regret, and a plea that had not been answered. A final moment, a breath ceased in agony, and a coward who had failed to do what needed to be done. And, to finish, a smile. A smile of forgiveness, for one who did not deserve it.

    ''It will be my fear I will thank.''

    Still, Arsalan had made words his own, ever since he took his first steps in the imperial academy.

    Ever since he had been given his first spear, breaking it on the training dummies.

    Ever since he had achieved his first results in war drills, little more than mediocre for others, incomparable for him.

    Ever since he had been torn to the ground, without giving up. And ever since he had scored his first victories, relishing that success so ephemeral.

    His father''s words were always there with him.

    "It doesn''t matter if you have courage."

    His father, who of all had been the bravest. His father, who when the Equestrian King had come knocking on their tribe to demand submission had dared to stand up. His father, who had been a hero, while Arsalan was just a coward.

    A coward who was just waiting to show off, whose mockery may have been belated but unavoidable. When the captain of his squad intimated that he and his comrades should prepare to fight, Arsalan was in the front row, his faithful spear clutched in his arms.

    Blight-Scourge.

    So he had called it.

    Not because it was a special spear. The tip had a sharper finish compared to army standards, and some enchantments increased its piercing ability. But it was not even comparable to the treasures with which the Immortals in the service of the Equestrian King were clad.

    Nor was it up to the standard of many weapons wielded by sub-generals, chief hunters, squad leaders and many high ranks of the Equestrian King''s army.

    Simply, Arsalan believed it needed a name. Something to be able to distinguish it, something to whisper while giving himself courage in the worst of predicaments.

    "You lot must stay focused and never, I repeat never, underestimate the one you will be facing. You should all follow his example!" The superior, an armanite like all the members of that unit, had been singing his praises every morning since they had begun that punitive expedition. "We will arrive in Karnasus around the early hours. I don''t want to see anyone back!"

    That had been the first theater of battle for many of them, Arsalan included.

    Recruits who had been given the opportunity to show their worth, for the glory of the Empire. And that they had done. When they had broken into the two Gaiths after dismantling their fortifications the Armanites who made up the central line had been the first to throw themselves into the action, breaking through the enemy defense lines, giving the other army corps the opportunity to overwhelm the enemy with ease.

    Arsalan had shown valor and courage, they had said. Arsalan had been a hero of the nation, they had said. Worthy of all commendation and honor, worthy to scar himself with the title of champion.

    What they did not know, and what they had not said, was that Arsalan was a coward, that he had waited until the last moment before leaving, that his valor, his contemptuous charge had only been a twitch of pure dread, his legs in terror that had caused them.

    That his victory had been pure luck, as indeed it always was on the battlefield. That his hooves still trembled when he thought of that fetid, putrid aroma of death.

    What they knew, and what they whispered, was that his father had been a hero. One of those who had stood up to the Equestrian King, paying the price with the only precious thing he had.

    The tree had been shaken, and the apple had fallen away from it.

    When those who were to remain in the conquered cities had been chosen, Arsalan had more than once been tempted to nominate himself, giving up only at the last so as not to be judged.

    For Arsalan''s cowardice also manifested itself when he interacted with those around him, those who had come to admire him. A childhood spent running across those great plains. For hours, getting lost in those wild and unspoiled places, before the empire brought its roads and aqueducts, taxes and services; everything that represented civility.

    When some areas were still unexplored and dangerous, when his fear was not the fear of a coward, but the fear of one who respects the unspoiled nature that everything offered.

    One armanite did not change the course of a war. A small and insignificant armanite did not tip the balance. A useless weight in the scales of the universe. In that truth, being insignificant, being superfluous, there was a comfort, a special meaning that not everyone would appreciate as much as he did.

    ''A coward never changes.'' These had not been his father''s last words, but would be his own. More fitting, for someone like Arsalan.

    "It shouldn''t take us long. We have conquered that city once before, and we will do the same again."

    Arsalan and his peers had been marching for a short time, and the optimism of the prospect of an easy win was creeping in.

    "I just hope to return home soon. My son has begun to take his first steps. I wouldn''t want to miss any more moments like this."

    "It''s about getting your hands dirty, but there is no alternative. If these Union fools had given up after the first defeat..."

    "I heard that some of the Immortals have disappeared..."

    "Nonsense. They''ve been sent south! There''s been a lot of turmoil over there lately. Besides, have you ever seen a dracotaur? I have, and let me tell you that if someone managed to beat the Immortal that guided them it must be at the very least a being at the level of a real dragon. Buddy, believe me when I tell you that the only thing we did wrong was not wiping those settlements off the map once and for all!"

    The others chartered around him, almost as if they had been unaware of what was waiting ahead of them, almost as if it were not them who had to go to war.

    "Hey, Arsalan, make sure you leave us some and don''t take all the glory." A joke, devoid of malice. "Apparently we will have to fight with a flesh-and-blood dragon. You could become as famous as the Equestrian King!"

    A laugh, not one of derision. Not fully, at least.

    "I''ll try," Arsalan chuckled with them.

    Everyone respected him, the armanite who had brought honor and glory not only to himself but to all members of his species. The story that he had single-handedly mowed down the famous General Pausanias had spread to every department in the army.

    How would they respond if they learned that Arsalan had done nothing at all? That it had all been a misunderstanding, a scam? He had merely arrived at the upper part of the citadel of West Gaith where that horrible giant lay surrounded by heaps and heaps of theirs.

    Smashed, the work not of legendary weapons, but of mere hands. Just thinking about it a chill still ran through his entire lower body. Herded like mountains of cattle, the differences between species and affiliations had finally disappeared. Ah, what joy! War truly united all nations! The slaughterhouse that provided equality!

    When the other soldiers had found the corpse of the general, Arsalan was raging over the remains of the giant, making sure it was dead and could not get up and devour him with a single bite, barely holding back the vomit caused by all that stench. At the time, the young recruit had not had the courage to explain the situation, and had despite himself found his persona being celebrated as a hero.

    "I did that," said the coward. "I did that, thanks to all that are no more. Celebrate them, not me!"

    An army always needed heroes, real or not. The very Immortals who led all of them, the Infinity Charge, the King''s Fang and the Hell Spear, had praised him. The supreme commander, Satrap Galastis herself, was contemplating awarding the armanite a medal for the shown valor and courage.

    His father''s words rang in his ears: "It doesn''t matter to have courage. When the time comes it will be your fear that you will thank."

    ''Should I then thank my fear for getting me into this?'' How much would he have given for an answer. He would have offered himself without hesitation. A coward for an answer. A fair exchange.

    "When we get there, leave some samples for us as well. Glory is a river in which everyone should be able to bathe."

    "I''m not going to do that, don''t worry," trying to remain coy, to remain humble, would bring about the opposite effect. The more he diminished his perceived achievements, the more Arsalan became the object of almost unrestrained worship. "We just have to have each other''s backs and everything will be fine."

    Gradually, some had begun to gather around the rookie, ready to follow him in his endeavors. Not only armanites, but also centaurs, wemic, hybsil, lamia, and all the other tribes that made up the vast expanse of the Great Plains. A vast expanse of young people laden with dreams and hopes, who were distinguished by tradition, skill, gender, and experience. All gathered by the desire to return home celebrated as heroes, as guardians of the new order that would be established under Heaven.

    The Great Plains war machine was a well-oiled but not perfect mechanism. It still lacked perfect internal coherence, an amalgamation between the various components that made it perfectly capable of making up for each other''s shortcomings.

    It was rumored that the Equestrian King had been pleased with that prolonged conflict. A way to perfect tactics and strategies, to put down formations and siege machines. A training camp that incorporated an entire nation.

    The army wings had refined coordination, but they still acted separately, leaving each tribe and each species to be sharply divided from the others. The new recruits, however, were beginning to cooperate, to make up for their weaknesses and augment their specializations. For the higher ranks, Arsalan and his people were an experiment worth cultivating.

    "So high."

    The walls of Karnasus were far different from those of other Union cities. A comparison would not have been fair.

    For the peoples of the Great Plains, like the brave armanites, enclosing yourself in narrow, cramped spaces was synonymous with cowardice. And, more importantly, it was a capping of one''s freedom, a restraining of the marriage with the strong and breezy wind flowing in the world.

    And those endless walls, which required those endless steps to reach, rose so high that it made one dizzy just to look at them. Their defensive capabilities were unquestionable, and their grandeur a sight that could not be described by words alone.

    "Prepare the siege machines! Arrange the archers! Infantry be ready to break through!"

    Each unit reported to one of the Immortals, who in turn had several generals and sub-officers for field operations.

    The Armanites were under the control of the Hell Spear, arranged into Druidic wards for siege machine preparation, magic projectile creation and processing, and terrain control; divine wards for blessings and healings; assault units divided into light and heavy cavalry, and then mobile bow units for disrupting ground troops and longbow units for enemies encamped defensively on the walls.

    Given the lack of some of the Immortals at the time, and to begin to harmonize the various species that served the Empire, the classical formation had been arranged with various mixtures, divided into sections under two or more generals.

    ''I am ready... I am ready...''

    Arsalan, taking his place in formation, noticed the comrades to his right and left. A wemic not much younger than him and a centaur with more than one scar on his face. Between a veteran and a novice he stood out as a midpoint.

    "So it begins." The centaur had unsheathed his short sword and a light shield, raising a light layer of dust with the kicking of his hooves. "Will this be my last time?"

    ''Will I keep asking myself this too, should I survive?'' All it took was little. Some people didn''t even notice. The lucky ones. Many healed in the body. The mind, however, lagged behind in some cases. It remained in that place, in eternal imprisonment. His father had not been among the lucky ones. ''Tonight, what will become of me? What will I be when I wake up in the morning? A coward? Or...''

    "It shouldn''t take long," muttered the wemic. The mane was small and sinuous. A woman. "It shouldn''t take long," said, again, the wemic. As if it had been a matter of duration. A simple endurance competition. "I heard that most of Karnasus'' troops are elsewhere. Resistance will be low." She brushed away the long dark hair that covered her face. How strange they looked. Soft and thin, they flowed down like a wavy line over the rest of her body, losing themselves in the brown of her fur.

    Arsalan nodded, feigning agreement. "It will not be difficult. The Union capital will be ours, and then we will go home. Home, yes." In conveying confidence to that wemic, the armanite was trying to find comfort in what he was stating.

    She reacted with a sneer, and they seemed to be in a different place than they were.

    That was an experiment, for the high command. A way to field-test a more rational division of the army, and assay its effectiveness in an actual trial.

    Each species had its own aptitude. The hysbil were excellent druids, the armanite perfect as spearmen, and the bariaur archers of the first order, just to make an example. The old traditions, based on division, demanded that each tribe be organized on dispersion, leading to a fragmentation of the skills conferred by nature. But under the leadership of the Empire each could give vent to his or her vocations, strengthening both status and beliefs.

    ''Yet, something doesn''t add up.''

    The armanite did not know how to explain it. Everything was falling into place. Nothing was there to cause concern.

    "Noises are starting to be heard."

    Arsalan was assigned to the left wing, in an area far from the reach of enemy defenses. They were hidden by a thicket not too far away. Their rangers had not noticed scouts from the other side. Thus, that place was deemed safe for a sneak attack when the opportunity would arise.

    Their duty was to intervene should Karnasus decide to send troops to counterattack their siege and target the war machines. There was a good chance that they would not have to enter in action at all until the city was taken, when the result could already be said to be settled.

    For a coward, there was no better task than that.

    "Get ready," the superior had ordered, taking just a handful of soldiers to be able to cover the distance faster and be ready to signal them to attack.

    An exchange of arrows and magic. Losses on both sides. There was an illusion that it was all a farce, a macabre game with no consequences. It continued for a few minutes. Karnasus'' resistance was more tenacious than expected. The torrent of bullets gushed from a single point in the high ground. Soldiers who had been placed at a distance from the classic range of the arrows were also beginning to infiltrate their rear. The work of an extraordinary individual, no doubt. If a single man could have made a difference, there would have been no need for the thing called war.

    A duel would have sufficed.

    ''Except for our Heaven. But even he can''t do it all by himself.''

    "They broke through!" The centaur moved into position. The wemic was ready to charge. Every single row of the army kicked, eager to begin.

    Arsalan clutched Blight-Scourge. Before him were endless possibilities. Glory and honor. Death and oblivion. To return home a hero, like his father. To die forgotten, again like his father. Almost as if fate was indifferent to any outcome.

    ''In the right moment, it will be my fear I will thank.'' And Arsalan was afraid. A dread that devoured him, digging into his soul little by little, unceasingly. It was there, telling him to run away, to hurry as far as possible from that battle. It was there, coloring the smiles of his companions black, tearing the shape of their faces, defacing the landscape before him.

    In those futures that had no limits, only one thing followed, unexpected.

    Silence.

    How could there be silence, in war? How could the shouts of commanders, the roar of magic, the rumblings of grief and the hymns of victory cease? How could every single soldier stop to make any noise, even indirectly, even if not as a result of his own will, albeit only for one measly instant?

    It was ... strange. As if a pestilential epidemic had struck all that multitude in the faculty that most characterized it, that was, the use of words: a plague of language that manifested itself as a loss of cognitive force and immediacy, as an automatism that tended to level expression on the most generic, anonymous, abstract formulas, to dilute meanings, to blunt expressive points, to extinguish every spark that sprang from the clash of the intellect with new circumstances.

    It was a second. A second that lasted a minute, a day, a year. It was a single second that never ended. When, at last, it passed, all the suspended breaths, all those plugged mouths went wild in one echo, in order to disturb that involuntary stillness.

    Everything was covered. There was a thud, and the earth trembled. No, it cried. The earth itself wailed in pain. A second thud followed, louder. Shields slammed into the ground. The splendor of the sun had been stolen, and now it stood to protect the newcomers ornamenting their metal. A third thud, something metallic that began to advance. A fourth thud, and then a fifth, a sixth.

    "...What are those?"

    The walls of Karnasus had given way. Victory was at hand.

    So why?

    Why, thought Arsalan, had they lost? Why were they on the verge of extinction?

    The darkness gave form to five creatures. Five creatures who had given up the sorrows of the flesh, the thrills of life, the pleasures of existence.

    When they moved, the whole world moved with them.

    "We must go too!"

    "We have received no orders..."

    "The captain is already dead! One of the enemy''s arrows impaled him!"

    Confusion. A disease that had spread rapidly and would find no cure in that chaos. Arsalan did not know what to do. He was a coward. A coward did not throw himself in front of monsters, did not throw himself contemptuously toward death.

    Because even death could have been endured. Instantaneous, it would have brought nothing else that was not already vaguely desired. But that? The slow decay of every hope and faculty? The passive but inexorable awareness that dug its wickedness into every nook and cranny of the mosaic that constituted consciousness? That was not something that could be dealt with.

    The five undead continued their relentless advance. The raised shields that formed a fortress impenetrable from any assault. A small group tearing through their ranks one by one.

    The army of the Great Plains had been trained to counter the pikemen. The reach of the spears could pinch the warhorses, and halt the running of ordinary riders. But for the peoples who served the Equestrian King it took more than a mere caress to stop; for those who had run all their lives in the endless expanses of the Great Plains, wounds were a medal to be celebrated, the pikemen who thought to overwhelm them with spears alone were prey to their strength and their bows.

    This was the way it was supposed to be. As it had gone before, when they had overwhelmed the Union for the first time. A charge they had believed would be unstoppable forever.

    What foolishness¡­

    The arrows on their side proved useless, while on the enemy''s part they kept falling from the sky, imposing their judgment. The spells that proved no help, a futile attempt fading into nothingness.

    The army of the Great Plains had been tempered in steel, in blood. It was an army that knew no fear, no surrender. Arsalan was the only anomaly, the only who had forsaken courage.

    And because of that he was the only one who realized it.

    Infantry that threw themselves into hand-to-hand combat were destroyed instantly.

    The undead continued to advance. And for every step they took, ten of their own relinquished their lives. They were a tsunami that encompassed them little by little, scattering them with no way out.

    The overwhelming leonine power of the wemics crashing like waves on the rocks, the foam of their blood leaving traces of their passage on the still wet bones; the bariaurs that kept flinging back after every mouthful, after every throw; the hybsil druids summoning the power of the elements, invoking the blessing of nature to drive those monstrosities into the underworld they had came from, to no avail. This was not something natural, something that could be challenged by reasoning alone.

    And the priests and clerics of Heaven, who continued to invoke magics for the destruction of the undead to prove their faith, savored what it meant to see their beliefs challenged. Their creed no longer had the symphony of absolute truth, but the atrocious sneer of a taunting jeer.

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    "Daeva..." That word was whispered by each of them before they took their last breath. And it was on the lips and thoughts of each of Arsalan''s companions. It was read, as clear as it had ever been, over hesitation and doubt. Some might even have found it ironic that any difference had been erased, only when everything that distinguished them was made superfluous. They had only one thing in common now. Just one. And it was enough.

    "We have to go too," said the scar-covered centaur. "Let''s gather all the experts in blunt damage! Those who can employ martial arts to add fire or sacred attributes to attacks come forward! We have to do something!"

    "First, we must reunite the whole army in one place if we are to have any hope of succeeding," Arsalan retorted. "And call the dracotaurs and Immortals. Let''s send some messengers as soon as possible!"

    When they had begun the assault they had divided the army into three, so that each side could lay siege from different directions: north, east and west. Each of these could count approximately a number equal to seven thousand.

    Then the elite troops and dracotaurs had remained in a secluded encampment protecting the satrap Galastis. They, too, had to intervene.

    Meanwhile, a decision had to be made.

    "We must also move," proposed the centaur. The others joined him. Their attention focused on Arsalan, the only one who was worthy to offer their self-sacrifice to at the moment.

    A coward! If only he had been able to spit out the truth. ''I will be the messenger! Say it¡­ Say it¡­''

    "So, charge!" Giving everything he had, the armanite tried to forget. Forget about his deceptions.

    It was just as they began to give themselves momentum that it happened. One of the priests'' miracles worked. The friction had finally been resolved in favor of their side, and one of those undead had evaporated, dissolving into a beam of light.

    "We can do it," Arsalan repeated. "Let''s go, too. Let''s send those monsters back into the abyss... What?"

    When all hope was accepted, when the sky had begun to clear, the opaqueness returned, stronger than before.

    It reassembled its shape, feeding on the carnage it had sown until then, screeching with the intensity of a thousand pieces of glass crashing at the same instant. And another one of those skeletal lancers joined its devilish fellows, giving the impression that it had been there from the beginning.

    Did they have a limit, those monsters? Or would they return endlessly, until they brought each of them to the other side? Perhaps one last effort would have sufficed. Perhaps it had been an anomaly, an unforeseen event. So many perhaps.

    At that point, few had the strength to continue. The Equestrian King''s army disintegrated as the Union soldiers found the strength to reattach and headed toward the breach to push them back. And the arrows... The arrows kept raining down on them. By the dozens, by the hundreds... Thousands? How was that possible? Where had it found all those archers, a moribund country?

    "Let''s react! Reinforcements will be here soon! Let us not be discouraged!" Too late.

    It was too late.

    The vanguard impacted with something. A solid body broke through using the transfixing pull of a thousand conflagrations, assuaging itself with the disaster the sheer inception had provoked, enthroning the trail of unrecognizable remains with the devastation of a catastrophe inked in the filthiness of what had once been agglomerations of sweet aspirations, coarse desires and unclean sins.

    Shit and pus, all that was left behind. Shit and filth. Puke stuck in the throats and piss trapped in blisters.

    ''A ruse! A legerdemain! Trick of the non-believers! Martial Arts can''t conceive all of this! Heroes can''t reach this realm. Heaven doesn''t acknowledge this folly!''

    Arsalan closed his eyes. Until he opened them again he could claim to be alone. That everything had been a figment of his imagination. A dream-a dream to wake up from.

    ''I am stuck in a reverie. My father! Where is my father? He is still alive, isn''t he? To find him, I have to wake up!''

    "Hey, you. Yes, I''m talking to you. What are you doing there, gasping in the corner? Zany jesters are out of place here, don''t you agree?"

    He did not speak to the voice calling him. Bringing his hands to his ears, giving up even Scourge-Blight, Arsalan showed himself for what he was.

    Briefly, there was peace...

    Something forced him to get up. A hand of indescribable might ripped his hands glued to his face, violently opened his eyelids ... and forced the armanite to see.

    The centaur at his side was dead. The wemic at his side was dead. The whole right wing had been exterminated, and, to his gaze, they had achieved that state of quiet he so longed for. Arsalan had given none of them a name, and so now they lay without a title, with an already blurred memory of their lives, on the verge of already being forgotten.

    "Oh ... at last! I generously left you alive because you were the only one who didn''t even try to fight back. Not even a gratification... Was I so slow that you could ignore me? Ah, never mind. Tell me, is the Equestrian King here?"

    The one who was talking assumed a form. A shape. A... elf? A girl, very young. Difficult to tell, in regard to that race. Diaphanous like only the ethereal night could be, a strange weapon was resting on the shoulders, almost as if alive. Lance? Wand? Or a combination of both? The three blades of it dived the cardinal directions in a cross of silver darkness.

    A white bow tied to the left arm waved carefree in the air. Petals of a blue flower peeked out from an armor of pure adamantium. A maiden''s gown masquerading as a warrior''s garb.

    Strangest of all, however, was that not a trace of the ongoing combat had marred her. If purity still made sense, it had graced the girl with it. A paltry purity, without true cleanness.

    Leaving aside blood or wounds, not a speck of dust disfigured the white skin, or stained the cuirass, that remained shining as just out of forge. That cleanliness possessed something unnatural, something frightening. It was a bizarre image, and at the same time tremendously disturbing. It was to wonder if that wasn''t an angel of death, come to transport him to the next stage, the one everyone was unaware of.

    "I asked you a question," she resumed, annoyed. Arsalan looked for a trace of regret for all she had done. The elf was numb to it. "What is it? Don''t you know how to speak? Did you also forget how to breathe?"

    "... No. He is not here." Arsalan relented. "However... However, don''t think you have a chance! There are still many of us! The Immortals will wipe you out!"

    "The Immortals?" The girl, bored as could never have been conceivable in that hellscape, brought the spear -or wand- on her shoulders closer to him. "Like one of these?"

    The decapitated head sprouting on one of the three points moved uncertainty, on the verge of breaking off. The gaping mouth, about to utter an unhearable cry, and the glassy eyes begging for a mercy that had never come left no doubt. It was Hell Spear, the best of the Empire''s armanites. The exceptional warrior that could take an army at bay alone.

    But it had not been an army that had claimed him. Just one. Just one girl.

    "And don''t think there are many of you left then. While your friends were so busy concentrating on the Spartiates you didn''t even notice that I got rid of the other lines," the elf was unusually talkative. "And to think that your comrades even managed to eliminate one of them, what a pity. Maybe I should have let your army get together and stayed out of the game until the end to make the competition more interesting. Ugh¡­ even I start to feel a little nauseated after killing so many thousands¡­" The elven girl licked her lips, not holding back an edge of disgust. Was that a game? A trickster play? "Well, I had some help, I won''t deny that. Without it, it could have taken some minutes more, and many of you would have escaped. Retrieving everyone would have been annoying. And the Great Plains did well, in getting rid of most of the Union defense. Less witnesses to worry about later."

    Arsalan did not believe for a minute that she was telling him a falsehood. Deception? And for what? A mockery of the victor to the vanquished?

    "You lie!" He denied, in any case, what she was reporting to him. Not because he could not accept it, or because he was clinging to a futile hope. It was simply that a different reaction was not even contemplated in his reasoning.

    The elf did not give it much thought. "You''ll realize that in a little while," then, with her back to him, she began to stray. "There are others left, aren''t there? I will head to them."

    The armanite''s breath stopped.

    It was over.

    In the end, the coward had saved himself.

    "Why don''t you kill me?" What drove him to that outburst, Arsalan could not explain. So he hated himself, cursed himself, but did not back down from what was said. "I am here, at your mercy."

    The elf turned back to him, pointing her left finger at Scourge-Blight, who lay abandoned next to the armanite. "You are already dead. Neither do I find pleasure in killing the same ant twice," and then walked away, uncaring of leaving a soldier of the Empire -her enemy- there alone.

    ''...It will be your fear you will thank.'' His father had been right.

    Arsalan was alive.

    ''But alone.'' As when his father had left him, Arsalan was left alone. Even then, he had not had the courage to do what had to be done. Even then, in the past, Arsalan had let the person he cherished above all else die in excruciating suffering rather than plunge the blade into his heart. ''I am alone.'' Even Scourge-Blight that coward had decided to give up.

    ''A coward. Yes, I am a coward.'' Until the very end. ''What now?''

    That elf would have exterminated even the satrap. The remaining Immortals, and perhaps even Heaven itself. She would not rest until the entire Empire of the Great Plains was destroyed, reduced to sand for the wind to blow.

    Arsalan struggled to get up again. Even without fighting, he was exhausted. The armanite grabbed the spear he had thrown and began to run.

    He ran, to warn the satrap. To report the incident in full detail. To show that, when things mattered the most, even a coward like him had a place in that world.

    He ran until he glimpsed the camp of the superiors. He ran until he began shouting for attention. He ran until that squad of Union soldiers intercepted him.

    ''One last ride together, Scourge-Blight!''

    He kept running even when an orc with two mighty cleavers severed his chest from his body. The rest of him kept moving forward, in that running that continued even after death. Arsalan watched the perspective change inclination, while part of him drifted away, unable to stop it, having achieved nothing of importance.

    The ultimate satisfaction, though, was that he had tried. To not have let his nature define him until the end.

    ''Father, now I understand. What a good death.''

    That was how died -and lived- a coward.

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    Without achieving anything.

    When Byrabolg woke up that morning he took a glance at the mirror, not recognizing the orc looking back at him, disfigured by the shards of glass from that aging furniture. It was a ghost moving at the other side of the reflection, repeating his every gesture and cadence.

    The orc rinsed his face with a worn cloth as the mass of greasy, black hair covering his dull gaze. After tying it into a small pigtail, Byrabolg stood fixedly watching Cal and El for more than a minute, cleaving the air with a burst that appeared as ungainly as it was lethal, before putting the swords back in their cases and tying them around his waist.

    ''Everything changes today,'' he mused to himself, dressing up with particular eagerness. The Union uniform was a cobalt blue, a hue badly matched with his greenish complexion, yet when preparations were completed Byrabolg never felt more stunning. More dignified. ''Today the bards will have something new to praise.''

    The orc''s nostrils drew in air for a breath worthy of the name, being flooded with a sour odor clinging to surfaces of the walls. A carboy of wine was placed on the table, the scent of grapes beckoning Byrabolg, enticing him to try it. "Just a taste," it promised. "Just a taste. What could possibly be a drink?"

    Byrabolg threw it into a basket, preventing the repentance of that gesture from bringing an afterthought. It reeked so foul that it was like being in a hoghouse that hadn''t been cleansed in ages.

    ''Today Byrabolg Uzrok stops being a drunkard. The tavern clown no longer performs. No dragon-killers, nor troll-stretchers. I will never think of anything like that again. I''ll pretend it''s not there.'' Nor did he wonder how that bottle had ended up in his place while throwing it in the trash can. In all likelihood, some of the boys had forgotten it on that table the night before, when they had enjoyed their revelry until after midnight, as had been customary for them the past few days. A more mischievous tongue might have implied that it had not been mere forgetfulness. Such poison was better left for those who still had friends to spare. ''No matter. I stopped touching that stuff. Today, Byrabolg Uzrok will be reborn. A champion again. I stopped touching that stuff.''

    Today, was the day Byrabolg Uzrok would kill the Equestrian King.

    Before stepping through the doorway of the small apartment he had been provided, the orc noticed the book of poems resting on the shelf near the door. Byrabolg flipped through a few pages, rereading his favorite titles: The Death of the Black Blade and The Epic of the Demon King in Three Acts. Knowing their contents by heart, after entire nights spent declaiming those passages to replicate the legendary deeds, it was more than spontaneous to find himself flipping through its pages.

    They took him back to a past when it was music and song all day long, the enchantment of words and the harmony of sounds, the cheers of the roaring crowd and the gestures of respect exchanged with rivals, giving meaning to his love. Love that he had soiled. Love he had failed.

    The stench of draught beer and fermented ale still lingered among the papers, despite the fact that Byrabolg was sure he had asked more than one spellcaster to cast¡ºClean¡»on that relic that maybe had never existed, if not for him. That it had all been in his head? A lingering reminder of his mistakes that would never leave him, condemning him to eternal humiliation?

    ''The Dark Knight,'' thinking back to his idol, and to the human woman who had humiliated him in the Mutual Wallop, Byrabolg was assailed by an uncharacteristic melancholy. ''Not now. Not anymore.'' That oath he uttered in the half-light, sealing his resolve with a few words. A reminder of his shame. An oath for the future that was to come. ''I don''t touch that stuff anymore.'' That stuff. That''s what he had to call it. There was power in names. ''That stuff¡­''

    As he headed for the walls, Sir Niles and his last words replayed in his thoughts. On the stage, there were he and the King of the Union champions, intent on reciting their last words, in a piece in which history and reality gave way at alternating intervals. Recent memories stagehands of that foul play.

    "Be careful!" The minotaur had advised. "I granted you permission to stay here in Karnasus to keep an eye on the elf. Do not provoke her or get in her way. Should the enemy arrive, you will provide adequate support. And that''s it!" Severed. A tone that admitted no reply.

    "I won''t!" The orc had retorted. And he had lied, for it was the lie that accumulated the performer -artist was too presumptuous of a term- with the drunk. Barybolg had yearned to become the former, and had ended up turning into the latter. "An opportunity, though, I ask. An opportunity for redemption."

    "And you shall have it," the King of Champions had huffed, moving earth and hearts with his might. The one Barybolg longed to be, and who he was not. "But you will have to be careful. And, at the risk of repeating myself, you will have to keep an eye on the elf!"

    The elf! The elf that everyone in the high command venerated and dreaded. The elf who sat where kings and queens could only stand. Even Sir Niles'' team, made up of those who had excelled in various of the sixteen disciplines of the Union games, dared not counter that girl who had been able to slay the unslayables.

    For Byrabolg it did not matter. He was already dead when the human woman had spared him after her triumph. When defeat had been coupled with humiliation. When he had begun to believe that happiness could only be found at the bottom of a glass, that glory was to be sought in empty bottles and void promises.

    Since then, the orc had been a corpse walking among the living. Since then, the orc had been living as an undead.

    ''Never again,'' repeated Byrabolg to no one, if not himself. ''Never again!''

    He was done with that stuff.

    Life was a ring. When you were thrown out, you could get up and climb back up to continue the challenge, or you could crawl and avoid facing your opponent. And Byrabolg had chosen the second option, at first. But after digging for a bottom, the orc had found out how much he missed the surface.

    That he yearned for the sun, the light. That he longed for the support of the crowd, the same crowd he had ditched. That the rivers of alcohol he had swallowed in rivers would not grant him oblivion. The pleasure of the drink was not a pleasure meant to last¡­

    And so he had risen again. Little by little. Small step after small step.

    The air on the walls of Karnasus was wonderful. Fresh and invigorating, with that wind blowing up to cleanse away all dirt, all mistakes.

    "They''ve arrived," announced Timaheus, an aarakocra who stood out for his expertise, gliding past Byrabolg and the rest of the stragglers and misfits which had joined his band. "It won''t take them long to begin the siege."

    "The city guard won''t be able to hold out here for long. We have to wait until they are distracted and then aim directly for their headquarters." Even if the Equestrian King had not been present, surely one of the satraps was leading the imperial army.

    ''A chance for glory, honor, cheers and all that stuff¡­''

    Byrabolg quickly squared the small group that had gathered around his figure. Most of them did not even realize what it meant to fight, to face risk. Low-grade criminals, third- or even fourth-borns, sellswords without a sword to sell, or simply desperate enough to believe in something else...

    The orc did not expect them to contest alongside him. Yeah, war was a trial of worth and bravery. It was enough for them to have his back and give him an opportunity to infiltrate. "I am not inclined to give encouraging speeches. I will only remind you that the future of those you care about rests on what your actions will be today. A surgical strike is the only path to victory, and to salvation. If you have second thoughts, it is best to externalize them now."

    No one complained. They had confidence in him. Confidence in what had once been a celebrity for many of them, even the younger ones. What a godsend! Byrabolg saw them and remembered what it meant to be the center of attention. "What should we do?" Watching these youths, trembling to show off, reminded the orc of the passion of his best days, now lost.

    There were no more than a dozen in total. Cloudy past, uncertain present. But the future - the future could still sparkle for each of them. Immortality was not precluded to anyone. Byrabolg felt almost like a thief, in plundering their trust, in using the esteem they had for him as stepping stones to his ascent.

    "Let''s wait. There will come a time when they will be able to break through the fortifications. Centaurs are not accustomed to climbing, and they hate to use¡ºFly¡»to overcome obstacles, so they will be forced to open a breach. At that point, when most of them have poured into the city, we will sneak toward the heart of their command. But we will have to be quick."

    Many of them would be dead, at best. But it was a sacrifice Byrabolg was willing to make without regret.

    "We''ll do that, then. Should we encounter one of the Immortals, will you be able to defeat him?"

    "We have no alternative."

    The others agreed. There was a temptation to have a drink, to dispel the last doubts and wish each other good luck. ''I''m done with that stuff,'' Byrabolg repeated to himself again and again. He observed the others toasting with a hastily found bad wine, found who knew where. ''I''m done with that stuff.'' Cheap perfume intoxicated his nose.

    "We will wait," he said, when the others had finished. "We will wait."

    And that they did. They waited.

    And waited.

    They waited until the first commands were heard, imprinted forcefully in the surroundings, stealing the echo of the landscape. When the first arrow was fired, and the first victim claimed; when the first boulder hurled, and the vibrations from the impact caused upheaval in the foundation; when the first magic formula was recited, and the bulwarks began to vibrate under the fury of the elements Byrabolg and his companions remained there, waiting.

    Waiting for what? An opportunity, Byrabolg thought. An opportunity for which he had looked for years, in silence, and in infamy. The dry throat demanded something sweet, to soften it. The sweat dripped, each drop a cascade of disgrace. Fingers trembling, from abstinence, begging to even touch a bottle of ale. Even a glass would have been enough. Even a glass¡­ Not to drink it, just touch it. To know it was there, within reach. That the desire could be fulfilled, if he wanted. And that the relinquishment was all about his will.

    The orc was forced to grasp Cal and El, so that he could put an end to that turmoil that was tearing him apart from the inside. He attacked a tune, diverting his mind from certain afflictions.

    "The sun flees, and the night is silent.

    The stars grow heavy and dark, beyond the haze.

    And the moon..."

    The orc found that he could no longer remember how it ended. The moon was-what was the moon like? Red? Red how? Like wine? ''I''m done with that stuff!''

    As the absolute end collected its harvest around him, and as dreams and hopes, which may never have been there, were cast into the mud, Byrabolg focused on that one verse, which just didn''t come to him.

    "Are you seeing too?" Timaheus called him back to attention with a snap of his fingers. The wings, folded, quivered with something that could not easily be explained. "That girl¡­ What is she? Not a normal elf."

    From the elevated position, a few steps away from the central lookout, they had been able to see how the Great Plains army had split into three parts, each focused on a different cardinal direction.

    "It was no overstatement," Byrabolg and Timaheus had also noticed how someone, who did not lack temerity, had jumped into the fray, leaping from the walls to land with one simple dive right in front of the horde coming from the east. "Am I dreaming, perhaps?"

    The others near him shook their heads, to make it clear that if they had ended up in a collective slumber, the disbelief they shared was not mere fabrication.

    Byrabolg recognized, in the one who had thrown herself with such bravado, the elf who had opened the door for them to resume Karnasus. The same elf the King of Champions had declared dangerous.

    The elf, a girl or so, had crossed the blurry line between courage and madness. Which side she found herself on after that journey did not matter. For Byrabolg understood.

    "She slew the Immortals, Byrabolg. Mirina and I haven''t even come close all these years. The Brave died by their hands. And she... She forced them to change their epithets." Sir Niles, once again. King of Champions. The minotaur, Lord of Every Arena. And the care -the revance- that had traced their final farewell.

    A revelation always came when least expected.

    "Chief, she''ll die if we don''t help her," one of the boys had whispered in his ear. That concern was the child of a nobility that the orc, as much as he had longed for, had renounced.

    "No," he asserted with conviction. The girl was a drop. So small, you could barely see her. Could a drop...could a drop have stilled the sea? "Observe, boy. Have you ever found yourself on a battlefield? Have you ever raised a shield to protect yourself and the comrade standing beside you? Raised a pike to block the enemy? Unsheathed a sword to protect an innocent?"

    "Sir ... I don''t understand."

    Byrabolg tried to remember that elf''s name. Antilene? She was not from those parts. Antilene... That was the name of the one who had summoned the dead. That was the name of the fury that hurled itself among the enemy with the might of a mad god, the indulgence long unconstrained.

    "You will understand if you learn to observe."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The orc had fought once upon a time, in the war called Mutual Wallop. Ten warriors from each city, a hundred and twenty in all, in an immense amphitheater. Until only one remained standing, to claim the victor''s laurel. A simulation, a game.

    It had not been a war, though Byrabolg had deluded himself to the contrary. He had never realized what that word, war, had that was so special about it. Why it was so regarded with such scorn, such hatred.

    The war familiar to him was synonymous with fame, with the roaring applause of an audience that loved him, and whose affection he reciprocated. The war he had adored were fabulous salaries, pharaonic contracts, women throwing themselves at your feet, and men looking at you with the utmost respect and sincerest devotion.

    Prone sycophants licking your asshole, polishing their lips with what came out and then kissing your cheeks with them still wet. To this, only a response: "Thank you! See you next time and bless!"

    It was an art. The art of war.

    The war he had known was the war of epic and poetry. The right one, if a bit bitter. Ruthless, yes. But supported by rules that made it more than just a conflict for supremacy. It was the war in which self-interest did not exist, and valor and heroism stood between determined and palpable evil. The needs of the many ripping apart the wants of the few.

    It was the noble war! The war that brought every action its justification. To every condemnation, its pardon. Through war, one could reach the eternal. To be immortalized in the collective consciousness as more than just a man! More than just a warrior. And be something else!

    It was the war that bards sang with the sweetest of smiles, inducing everyone to whistle the same ballads, hoping one day to become part of that legend. The Dark Knight fending off the Evil Deities, the Leader of the Thirteen standing between Landfall with bravery and pride!

    The war he knew now, at that juncture when everything would change, was the war that was untold.

    ''What a fool I was. Wine-is there no wine? No ale? Rinse-guts? I must drink. I must drink, yes. Sweet oblivion, how much I seek you now. Give me some of that stuff¡­''

    It was a point, the elf. A point that was first here, then there. From west to east, from north to south, that point moved in that brothel of steel and blood. It was fear, it was shock, it was awe, it was reverence for a creature that was beyond explanation.

    How could one possibly account for what was happening? How could the unexplainable be described?

    There was a girl, an elf.

    There were thousands and thousands of soldiers from the Great Plains Army.

    There was a girl, an elf. And with this girl walked the undead.

    There were thousands and thousands of soldiers from the army of the Great Plains. And of these thousands and thousands there were hundreds and hundreds. Dozens and dozens.

    There was a girl, an elf. And with this girl there was a scythe. And that scythe did what a scythe was supposed to do. It ripped. It teared and it mowed. Pressing on a density that exceeded the thickness of that clutch, she leapt forward as an army and the army fell back in line as the single man! Someone -Equestrian King or Heaven no difference made- had sown wind, expecting storms. The storms had not come, but instead the elf had arrived!

    There were thousands and thousands of soldiers from the Great Plains Army. And with these soldiers, there were just as many weapons. There were spears, shields, swords, rods and staffs, longbows and shortbows. Plus others unknown. Pieces of glitter bronze, hard iron, sharp steel, precious mithril, astonishing orichalcum.

    There was magic and spells. There was the incandescent heat of fire, the smashing seisms of earth, the raging hurricanes of air and the calm fury of water. The buffs that overcame limits and the healing that alleviated grief. Arrows. Arrows that darkened the clouds. Arrows that covered the sun.

    Formations honed with every conceivable sweat and sacrifice, tactics studied in every minute detail and finesse. There was a plan, a pattern that stood on principles and doctrines, conditions to be fulfilled. Manuals on weaknesses to exploit, commentaries on that or this path. The way of the warrior, the aspiration of the wizard, the wish of the druid...

    There was a girl, an elf. And this girl walked alone. She was fighting alone. One against many. One, two, three, four¡­ You couldn''t count them one by one, who were already gone.

    The drums that acclaimed the champions appealed to a Heaven that would not listen. "All hail the Hell Spear! All Hail the King''s Fang! Now you will die by my hand! Now you will know the fury of my spear!" Cloven the choruses, divided the spirits, trampled the Immortals. Immortals... Extols rejected by the elf.

    Titles and ranks didn''t distinguish. The panoplies of a thousand and one legends were rain-soaked paper, the blades of yore a forgotten legend. There were no noises of collisions, steel ringing on steel, dissonances between the interval of the blow and the decision of the lunge. The formulas were rescinded before they came to an end. The arrows would never meet the bowstring.

    The final curtain would have a different closure for any given story. The limits? Only her imagination.

    Swaying in the huddled mass of sweat and saliva, the elf ran afoul of the laws of equality, the certainties of numbers and the comfort of quantity. Armor transmuted, as if by atrocious miracle, into shrouded robes. The connections between nerves and organic structure, drift and stasis, undone and reassembled, if not discarded.

    No last-stands. No occasion for repentance. Antilene''s plod did not indulge in pleonasms in seek of pity or pledges to establish allegiance. Cut-throat methodicalness and disdain for anything that did not fit into her perfect world came under the judgment of her maleficence.

    When she attacked, the universe was made her own. The clay to be molded was made of flesh and bone, and the masterpiece she had to create opened a window of endless opportunities before her. Opportunities that converged, like the sequences of endless strikes and counterstrikes, on a single outcome. An outcome that recognized only one favor. Hers.

    Numinous mist dawned on the noon of the battleground. The howls of sufferance and excruciation reshaped those lands in shores of castigation.

    There were hundreds and hundreds of soldiers of the Great Plains Army. Their leaders were no longer guiding them. Children left without anyone to hold their hands. And these hundreds and hundreds began to enquire about a cardinal conundrum, "What are we witnessing?" Foregone conclusions and legs shaked in sync.

    Because the girl was passing by, and they were falling. Because the girl was being run over by their every attempt, their every most unimaginable effort, and she was going forward with always the same mission. The same intent. "I am coming¡­" The ominous prediction. "I am coming¡­" The ultimate threat.

    Their churning, now, a disorganized mess. Their chances, now, could not aspire to a benevolent fate.

    There was a girl, an elf. There was a girl, she was Death. How could one fight death? Was it not inevitable? The inviolable destiny? How could one fight what blades could not wound, what magics could not conceive, what fangs and nature could not grace?

    There were dozens and dozens of soldiers from the Great Plains Army. And these few soldiers slowly realized one thing: "We are dying. The warrior on the right is dead. My comrade on the left is dead. The priest who was supposed to bless me is dead. The archer I was protecting is dead. The wizard, and the druid, and the sorcerer who were supposed to cover me are dead. No generals to lead, no leadership to inspire, no heroes to rise." And so the only thing to ask remained "Will I be the next?"

    There was a girl, an elf. She was alone, that elf. She stood alone, because there was no one left.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "Eheh," one of his own began to laugh. "Ehehehe," another as well. "Ahahaha," yet another. They all laughed in the rummy, in the wine that did not flow from the bottle, in the frenzy that was not satisfied with the stirring of delightful delirium.

    "This is what war is all about, you see? Bodies falling and no one to bury them. Finding yourself with one or more limbs severed, and the lifeless body of those you had called comrade, even friend, suffocating you while on the ground. The vulture banquet, the last supper of life. No better stuff to experience!"

    Byrabolg wanted to drink so badly. He wanted to drown in alcohol, cursing himself endlessly for his foolishness. Champion, him? What a sick joke. Where was the champion while a girl, one girl only, was rewriting history, rewriting the fundamentals of war, its very definition?

    Yes, that was war. It was the phantasma you dared not look at, carelessly scorching away what you held most dear. The nightmare that watched over eternal dreams.

    ''Wine. Give me wine. Or ale. Something, at least. Anything goes. Anything!''

    The army of the Great Plains had been pretty much exterminated. A few survivors had fled, deeming it wiser not to continue something already set.

    The walls of Karnasus were that white carved from marble. That white, which had been obtained with toil and sacrifice, had now been ruined, devastated. The breach had been opened. ''So fast,'' Byrabolg admitted. ''So fast, they could have won. They were stronger than we were. More prepared. Yet they lost. Where is the justice in that?''

    The answer, trivial as it was, he now realized, was that there was no justice at all.

    "Let''s go down, fast! There is no more glory. Honor? Forget it. There is nothing left for us but the last crumb. Timaheus, fly and lead the way."

    The aarakocra sprang into the air. The orc and his followers headed for the new entrance. When they arrived, there was hardly anything left. Five hell devils were walking on an expanse of massacre, thriving on that carnage, so still and silent as to be deafening.

    Flies and cockroaches burrowed through the carcasses, sucking up the last remnants of what had once been an abundant glut of life, ready to restart the cycle from scratch. The golden river had run its course, yes, but of that dirty, dark red that had once been the greatest treasure of numerous unawares. Not silver, not gold, nor platinum. Scarlet, that river that weepingly bathed the earth was now.

    "What happened here?"

    "The infamy of war," Byrabolg said. "Just this."

    The elf, at the center of it all, proceeded calmly. On the battlefield, the very act of walking was disrespectful to those who had fallen. Her steps etched the name of the strongest in that calm.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When Orodaltis woke up that morning, she did so with love by her side. It was a kiss ¨C just one kiss ¨C that roused the lamia from wonderful dreams. Dreams that nevertheless paled compared to reality. Lucky, she had been. Lucky for similar awakenings in the past, and with good intentions of repeating them in the future.

    "Are you awake, my beloved?"

    Satrapa Galastis placed her lips on hers again, entwining the tail with Oradaltis''s. Squamous was the face, as was the tail. That stinging sensation invigorated she who was known as Infinity Charge, one of the Immortals of the Great Plains.

    "I am now." Heat. The satrap''s much larger body enclosed her in a tender, affectionate embrace. The silks on which they had rested wrapped around them, relieving out the hardness of touch with their softness. "We must go, before someone notices that I have not slept in my tent."

    "Who? Dracotaurs don''t mind these things. The rest of the army is far away. Victory is assured... What''s one more kiss?"

    Nothing. Or everything.

    "It''s late."

    "Not for us."

    "Our people will die soon."

    "More reason to celebrate love."

    "Is love we celebrate?"

    "Yes. I repeat: do you yield?"

    "I concede. What is one more kiss?" That time, temptation won. The next¡­ "There are some priests nearby. Many of them are close to the Equestrian King..."

    "Let them talk, or see, if they wish. What are the words of priests? Our Heaven does worse with his only friend. Bedfellows as foals, bedfellows in adulthood." It was supposed to be a secret. But if it was on everyone''s lips, could it continue to be called such just because it was not whispered clearly? "Let the priests think about politics and religion... Love is not for them."

    Orodaltis struggled to flinch, regretting it with a few moments delay. "What we do in intimacy is our business. But the new nation needs unions. Not the kind we practice here." A lamia and a dracotaur would have been seen as an unusual couple in even the most libertine circles. "Besides, there is a conquest to be accomplished, it seems to me. Let''s not let ease deter us from the goal."

    "As always, you are right." Galastis had finally shifted away from her, beginning to cover herself with a fine tunic, line motifs of quartz and amber shaped a marvelous strand, which nevertheless maintained a certain restraint. Of all the four satraps, she was the one who most rejected the comforts and softness. The silks on which they had shared more than one night had been a gift given to Orodaltis for stealing her heart. "Do you think we will find a more tenacious resistance than the one that greeted us in the Two Gaith?"

    The lamia, who was forced to cover her chest with the clothes from the previous evening, sat a few steps away from her beloved, crossing the feline paws on the ground. The Eye of Blasphemy she wore around the neck awakened at just the slight contact, sparkling with pure magical energy, giving substance to small purple thunderbolts that blended into the deep, dark red of the eye''s interior. It beckoned Orodaltis to invoke its power gently, tempting her with promises of love. But unlike a kiss, that was a desire that could not be surrendered to. Not so lightly.

    "We had it easy once. It doesn''t mean we will have it again." She brought her hand closer to the dracotaur''s, already aware of what was to follow. "Satrap Filede wait for you to show weakness to gain more influence. Her son is one of the Immortals who are commanding this advance. The King''s Fang is renewed for strength and bravery. Spoils of war he will bestow to our Heaven. And..." Orodaltis paused, to avoid adding more. A fresh wound needed time and care to heal.

    "And I lost my brother, my champion. No Immortal reports directly to me now. That''s what you meant. Even if I were to give my king a kingdom, I will not offer him a champion."

    The lamia lowered her head in shame. Her beloved took the chin between her fingers, forcing her to mirror herself in her gaze. That pain that had not yet ceased was not, however, condemnation.

    "Dracotaurs have lost influence, while wemics still have much to gain. Can a small lion compare to a dragon? It would have been imaginable just a few years ago." Galastis covered her eyes. If there were tears, no one had the right to witness them. Not even her love. "As a leader, I am a failure. Dracotaurs have always respected the law of the strong, but times are changing and I struggle to keep up. The Kingdom of Heaven is no longer just the Kingdoms of the Great Plains. You adapt, or you die. And in all this, those who were supposed to stay by my side have gone, leaving me alone."

    "I am here."

    "You have your own people to think about. The lamia have lost a lot since the conquest. Already they lost a queen. Will you also make them lose a princess?"

    "There are more capable leaders than I," like those who had perished, rebelling against the invader, against the one they now called King and Heaven. Anguish still scarred the chest. "We will think first of finding your brother, and saving him."

    "Do you think he is alive?"

    "He is a valuable hostage. And I can''t imagine anyone, except for our king, being able to overpower him." Orodaltis had heard that same question many times since before they had started that conquest. Or reconquest, as Heaven had declared it. And each time the answer had been the same: "If someone has harmed your brother, we will avenge him." There was no need for illusions.

    The Dragon''s jaws, the Forest''s horns, the Emperor''s sword.

    Three Immortals. That moniker now had the flavor of a prophecy . Three Immortals whose trail had been lost since they had set foot on Union territory. Perhaps they were still alive. Perhaps they endured, in the name of their emperor. Or maybe getting their hopes up was anserine.

    "They say it was a daeva..." The monsters the new religion called demons and abyssals, the shadows that disturbed harmony and order. A vague concept whose imprecise meaning changed from sunrise to sunset.

    "Daeva," Galastis repeated. Names concealed power, and she was trying to wrest it away. "If what the priests say is true, the harmony of the world is the basis of everything. If wallowing in war means dispersing this harmony, then each of the dracotaurs is a daeva. If what the priests say is true, what would that make you?"

    The mysteries and dogmas of the new religion eluded even Orodaltis. The lamia had accepted it, as you would accept someone new ruling you, but she had not made it her own, and the same could be said of her beloved. The Eye of Blasphemy was her legacy, and that heritage did not admit masters.

    "Whatever they call themselves, there may indeed be an outstanding individual among the Union soldiers."

    "Could be. But why hide them until now? It makes no sense," Galastis hardened the cadence of the voice. There was an untamed anger dormant in the tone. "Only once did my brother lose. Just once. It''s impossible for it to happen again." One lied to oneself because the truth was too hard to face. In this, even the dracotaurs, the mighty and indomitable warriors who were said to be descended from dragons, were not so different from the rest of the species that rode in the Great Plains. "Those cowards must have taken him by surprise. A trap! They must have overwhelmed him with numbers! Without honor. There is no one left with honor in this world."

    Perhaps there had never been from the beginning. What was honor anyway? Could it be eaten, touched, hidden, admired? If the answer was no, then it was worthless. The Eye of Blasphemy snickered at those statements, as if a holy relic had free will.

    Orodaltis licked Galastis on the neck, as a sign of affection. "Now think of something else, my love. It is a long day ahead of us. If justice is to be served, we will not be long in passing our sentence."

    The satrap ran a hand over her cheek, brushing it with a caress. A small gesture, which meant a lot to both of them.

    "What would I be without you?"

    "One of the Four Satraps. One of those who intercede for Heaven."

    "I would be nothing."

    "You would be everything. And more."

    "I will see you later in the council meeting. After taking the city, there will be a lot to take care of."

    Another kiss. Whether it would be the last could never be foretold.

    The lamia went out, emerging into the forest near Karnasus that they had chosen as their home. Many were already on their feet -the servants preparing, the sentinels relieving, the priests celebrating the first masses- and if anyone noticed her coming out of the tent, they pretended not to mind.

    The final arrangements for the army had been made the previous evening. Hell''s spear and King''s Fang would direct the field operations, while Orodaltis would provide the satrap''s safety. For those who knew Galastis, and had seen her wielding the ax, that would have sounded like an unfunny jest.

    "My lady," Nikou was waiting for her a few meters from the gazebo they had set up as central command. "Has agitation brought you restless sleep, perhaps?"

    "I wanted to make sure everything was on track," Orodaltis patted her subordinate''s shoulder, causing her to tremble slightly. "How are things progressing?"

    The other lamia crawled, moving her serpentine body to cover the albeit small distance that separated them. She did not want anyone to be able to hear them too easily. "I have set up divination spells every half hour, as you requested..." While lamia with feline bodies excelled in the physical arts, those blessed with the form of reptiles performed well in the mastery of spellcasting. In this, Nikou was an excellence among excellences. Of course, such rules were made to be broken. In this, Orodaltis was the perfect example. "At first, we did not encounter any problems. Our troops began the siege with little resistance. Our archers overwhelmed theirs, and their walls would not have withstood the centaur-built machines for long."

    "But..." As the years passed, it was almost natural to predict what was left out. And of years with adorable Nikou, Orodaltis had spent several.

    The other lamia lowered her voice even more. No one needed to pry in that conversation, it seemed. "They have a very powerful necromancer. Five undead like we''ve never seen blocked our advance, and now they are clashing with the part of the army proceeding from the west."

    "Five..." Orodaltis used her own experience as teacher and guide. "Don''t we have clerics and priests in abundance? What are they doing?"

    "Exorcisms are proving ineffective."

    This was therefore an unusual category of undead. "To summon five the summoner must be skilled in the arcane school like me. However, obviously five must be their limit." The purpose was to prevent her second from sinking into anxiety and despondency. For this, a rough estimation could be fitting, even though the future would prove it ludicrous. "If taking down those undead proves too costly in terms of lives, we will have to concentrate our efforts on the summoner. They are probably hiding somewhere, perhaps within the walls. They should not be found very far away, or they could not direct them effectively. Have the rams been put into operation? We will break through another of the doors."

    "They were preparing them¡­ But what if the summoner is stronger than their creatures?"

    That prospect was gruesome. "Who do you think would win between me and another of the Immortals if I did not employ my summons?"

    "I..." Orodaltis was almost grateful to Nikou for that hesitation.

    "Be honest, go ahead."

    "I don''t think you would be able to win."

    "That''s right. But what if you were to use them instead?"

    "No other Immortal could beat you!"

    Orodaltis was not the only one overestimating, evidently. "I doubt that would be the case. But the result would certainly not be set in stone. We will summon some thousand-eyed demons to flush out the necromancer."

    "Do you intend to use your talents?"

    "I still have a lot of mana, and for low-rank summons like that it would be wasted. I can only use it once a day, don''t forget." The shadow that had begun to descend on Nazanin finally stopped. Yet, why was she the one who felt agitated now? The Eye of Blasphemy whispered to her, "Fool." The Eye of Blasphemy could not speak. It was a mere fabrication repeating that ''fool''.

    "Is everything okay?" Her second was trying not to let her gaze drop to the Eye of Blasphemy. Every time Orodaltis had told her about those strange feelings, Nikou had repeated the same antiphon: "The Eye of Relic is completely closed. I do not perceive anything."

    "Sure," said Orodaltsi, covering the Eye with a hand. "Come, let''s eat something. I haven''t had breakfast yet, and I bet the same goes for you. In the meantime, convey the directions I gave you to our girls via ¡ºMessage¡»."

    "As you wish."

    The two lamia headed toward a small table set aside for officers. Orodaltis was on the verge of grabbing something among the various choices before her when she noticed that Nikou had made astonishment and concern color her expression.

    "No one... No one answers."

    Of jokes, at that hour so close to dawn, the Immortal felt no need for. However, she quickly realized that Nikou had never played the slightest prank on her since she had known her.

    ''Fool!''

    "What do you mean no one answers? Did you give instructions to stay in the rear, so that you could keep us constantly updated?"

    "Yes. We had exchanged information not more than 20 minutes ago when those undead showed up."

    No one could have worked their way through thousands of soldiers in such a short time. Assassins? But her girls were spellcasters of the highest order, surrounded by the Empire''s elite guards. Who could have? The five undead? The stronger the summoning, the smaller the possible number to invoke. A simple rule of reason... That learnedness in arcane had induced underestimation?

    ''Fool.''

    It was not foolish to use common patterns and rules as an outline of reasoning. The only one who could have done it was the Equestrian King. But considering that case as replicable would have been a dangerous illation. Which was absurd. The sky above was one, and only one.

    ''So¡­ The Immortals truly were¡­''

    "Call those who specialize in divination. Order them to find out what''s going on! I want a situation report before now!"

    Nikou was already on the verge of carrying out, when something caught the attention of them both.

    "My lady..." A voice came from the distance.

    "What is it now?" As the only remaining Immortal, Orodaltis was in effect the highest authority after the satrap.

    Some dracotaurs were carrying prisoners in chains. They were deposed at her feet without too much graciousness . "These intruders tried to sneak into the camp. They avoided the traps and eliminated some of our people before we could catch them."

    Orodaltis squared them off. In the center stood a greenish-skinned orc. Like all the others, he wore a Union war uniform. A cobalt blue that spurred the memory of that sea that the Immortal had glanced at in amazement only once in her short youth.

    "We warned the satrap as well," continued the dracotaur who had captured them. "They claim they have valuable information for us."

    The Immortal turned to the orc, who gave the impression of being the leader of that band of misfits. "Were you on the battlefield? Report to us what you witnessed."

    He remained impassive. "You lost. I''m sorry." He addressed Orodaltis as if she had been the one in chains.

    "Insolent!" One of the dracotaurs slammed his skull into the ground. Hard. He lifted him up by pulling him by the hair. "Tell the truth, before I make you spit more blood."

    The orc continued to remain composed. No reaction. No satisfaction. "I have told the truth. If you do not wish to believe me, it is up to you."

    "We will kill you and your companions. But not before we make you suffer."

    "Wait..." Orodaltis attempted to calm those hot spirits. "Let him speak. Nikou, heal his wounds."

    "I don''t know whether I should..."

    "Don''t worry."

    But the orc refused the treatment. "It won''t make any difference. Neither for me, nor for you."

    "What is your name?"

    "Byrabolg. Byrabolg Uzrok."

    "Nice to meet you, Byrabolg Uzrok. I''m Orodaltis, of the Immortals. Why do you say that?"

    For the first time since that brief interview had begun, a trace of vitality could be discerned on that very unusual orc. "You can escape now while there is still time."

    Orodaltis approached him, as polite as she could be. "I repeat: What do you mean?"

    "I am only warning you... Victory is unattainable. For you, but also for the Union."

    Nothing made sense.

    ''Fool.''

    "Is it those undead? Can''t we beat them?"

    "No... It''s about the one who summoned them. She will kill you all... "

    "There were thirty thousand soldiers besieging Karnasus."

    "All dead." The Eye of Blasphemy revealed to her that he was not lying.

    "My lady, let me put an end to this insolence."

    "No," she could not have controlled the dracotaur for long. "What can we do?"

    "You can surrender¡­ or run away." The Eye of Blasphemy was adamant: no lies.

    "If we were to resist?"

    Orodaltis didn''t even care that the relic had never revealed deception since she had started wearing it.

    "Then no more stuff for you¡­"

    ''Fool.''

    "What stuff?"

    "You know it. The stuff¡­"

    "You don''t make sense."

    "Nothing makes sense anymore."

    The lamia then turned to the other prisoners. "Does anyone have anything else to say?" Everyone stayed silent. "I understand. Kill them."

    "My lady..."

    She had Nikou worried. How much Orodaltis hated herself for that. "Prepare an escape route for the satrap. And call all our spellcasters. We will perform a ritual on the spot." The Eye of Blasphemy shone with violet energy; the Immortal was dazzled. Enthralled. "We will call the strongest class of demons."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    When that morning¡­

    ¡­

    Nothing¡­

    That morning¡­ That one did not yet exist.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    There was only His Lady. The moment the Lady said, everything became language. Language became construct. And then the construct divided into intellection and deed.

    The one was not a he, he was not a she. She was not a they, they were not a it. For convenience, the one called himself a He.

    ''Arise, Spartiate Number Six!''

    The Lady was the whole. Forged in the inner darkness and sculptured in the radiant light the one became Spartiate Number Six because the Lady had so decreed. Where there was emptiness, there was fullness. Where there was drought, there was bounty. There was no past before the Lady. There could be no present without the Lady. The future was unimportant without the Lady.

    ''You are now my will.'' Spartiate Number Six knew what the word was, knew what the verb was because His Lady knew, and His Lady had made sure that he understood.

    Spartiate Number Six was nothing else that existed between His Lady and the rest. Spartiate Number Six gained the knowledge that the Lady had shaped for him.

    And what was the Lady''s will? He had been given a spear, and a shield. For fighting, and to kill.

    No one had taught Spartiate Number Six what those tools were for. No one had taught him to place the shield next to that of the other Spartiates, to form a barrier against those that stood against him.

    No one had given Spartiate Number Six lessons on how to wield the spear to pierce those who were called ''enemies''. When he slaughtered them, he did not feel a thing.

    He was Spartiate Number Six, and that was it.

    ''First order: kill all these beasts.'' The Spartiate had gained knowledge of the world in fractions of a second, in the mere span of what was act and what was pause. Everything he needed had been loaded into him the moment he was given form, when desires -desires to serve His Lady- had been shaped, and tools -tools to sacrifice for His Lady- had been granted. Soul and body coincided in the Spartiate. There could not be one without there being the other. ''They are our enemies. What more there is to it?''

    That word, ''enemy'', had meaning because it related to those who now stood before Her. Of convex, the word ''friend'' was none other than His Lady. Friend and foe, but only Her. Against the whole world.

    And, again, the word ''world,'' with all its nuances, in those contradictions that silenced the doubts, encompassed only the smallest part of what His Lady was.

    He was not unique, the Spartiate. Four others bore that title, that identity. Those he had been ordered to eliminate were partly similar. Those His Lady called centaurs, or lamia, or wemic were all the same as the others, with small differences that deluded them into distinguishing their parallels. Not like the Spartiate, who knew there were numbers like him.

    Spartiate Number Six, indeed, was perfectly identical to Spartiate Number One, as he was the specular copy of Spartiate Number Two, who was the perfect twin of Spartiate Number Three, all of them perfectly resembling Spartiate Number Four.

    ''Keep fighting, as long as I order you to.'' His Lady was not really communicating with him. What she did was forbidden to be scrutinized. What she thought was for hers and hers alone. What she accomplished was for others to admire. An echo, of a sound that had never been uttered. A shout, of a word that had never been spoken.

    ''Who am I?'' Was this the thing called a question which defined the ego? For the Spartiate, such inquiring was absolutely groundless. A Spartiate was a Spartiate. There was nothing else that could be added. That ''Who am I?'' therefore was addressed by someone, or something else. For him to hear it within himself was irrelevant. The Spartiate felt and perceived what a Spartiate should feel and perceive.

    His existence was his own purpose.

    The data around him was analyzed and translated into thought forms that were beyond typicality. That thick, red liquid was blood. That twitching in the eyes and faces was fear. Those who retreated as they passed were fleeing. The weapons that caressed him were futile. That absence of sparks was death. Each of these things was compressed, reworked and synthesized.

    ''Why am I doing this?'' The Spartiate was outside that spectrum that the living called emotions. If he could conceive it, it was only because His Lady was able to materialize it. And what His Lady saw, the Spartiate could observe, even if from afar.

    When the Spartiate pierced a heart, it was His Lady who asked, ''What does it feel like?'' When the Spartiate crumbled a skull, it was His Lady who queried, ''Do I feel something?'' ''Should I feel something?'' When insults and imprecations were hurled, it was the Spartiate who sacrificed for His Lady. ''Am I a savior? Or a monster?'' ''Am I all of these? Or neither of them?''

    When the Spartiate saw those who were the ''enemies'' fleeing before his passage, it was His Lady who wondered about the reason? It was not. His Lady''s world was a dimension that a Spartiate might be aware existed, but that did not mean he could pry into it. So what was it?

    ''What am I?'' Why am I here?'' ''Is home I long for?''

    The remnants of what His Lady was experiencing? The fragments of an existence that was incomplete, scattered along a path of reminiscences? The heart, that organ that pumped the liquid called blood, and that was at the origin of every mechanism of life, was also the door to a mirror of what was baptized the soul.

    The Spartiate had uncovered numerous hearts, in the brief, fluctuating moments he had been gifted, and found nothing there but veins and arteries. The pumping had been interrupted, and with it the essence that guarded it. An elementary biological mechanism.

    That information, though, had to come from somewhere? For the Spartiate everything came from His Lady. The Lady therefore was sure that the heart concealed the soul. And if not the heart, some other part of the body had to. The mind? The liver? The lungs? The skin? None of these seemed to hold unknown secrets.

    And, at the same time, the Spartiate possessed none of this. Did that mean that there was no soul in him?

    But Spartiate Number Six was sure that a soul dwelled in him, because his soul was the body he had self-sacrificed to His Lady.

    The Spartiate did not understand. He did not understand why, he who could not make acquaintance with that thing called sadness, felt imbued with it. He did not understand why, he who had known nothing but His Lady, who was everything and nothing, who was far and between, could feel such ruthless loneliness.

    ''Heathens, hearken the halcyon heart of Heran. Fait accompli the faithfulness of Fouche. The Six, Slaine, engraved in the wreckage of my wrath.''

    It could not be His Lady''s, because His Lady was unhesitatingly. ''Look at her works, O mighty ones, and despair!'' But if no one was left, who could stay and watch? Who could despair? There was only His Lady now. His Lady, who was left alone, on the battlefield where only sorrow and sadness remained. Together with Spartiate Number One, Spartiate Number Two, Spartiate Number Three, Spartiate Number Four and Spartiate Number Six.

    ''Others are waiting for us. Let''s proceed!''

    "Please wait." Someone approached his Lady. Spartiate Number Six did not receive any orders, so she merely observed the two figures addressing her.

    "Who are you?" Ecstasy with beak and wings knelt at the Lady''s feet. "How did you do all this?"

    "We should not have approached, Elijah," whispered the other, in tune with the first. He was like his lady, and at the same time he was not. Staring in amazement at the Spartiates, trying to figure out what they were the child man sought. "We did not wish to disturb you, O mighty warrior." His face met his torso as he bent to follow his companion.

    "We had to, Jean-Joel. I had to see this moon shining on the earth."

    The moon was high in the sky, and came only when night swapped places with day. What His Lady did not understand, the Spartiate could not fathom.

    One, two, three steps back for the human, but not for the owlin. One, two, three steps forward for His Lady. Halfway they met, where the passage between shadow and light diverged.

    ''What a mess.''

    "Magic casters, are you? Check for survivors. Burn and benedict all these traces..." The balance of the world was precarious. All that life would not be merely dropped, but would take on a new form. A form comparable to the Spartiates. Unlike the Spartiates, however, they would not serve Their Lady. "Others from the plains remain to take care of. I don''t want to waste any more time. Can I count on you?"

    "Definitely!"

    His Lady''s desire to eliminate them on the spot was the desire of Spartiate Number Six to get rid of both of them. When suppressed, it disappeared.

    The Spartiates followed Their Lady, as was natural for them to do. ''Forward,'' she commanded. And forward they moved. ''Stop,'' was the successive bidding. And all of them, in unison, halted.

    The willows intoned a slow, melodic rustling that Spartiate could only hear with his Lady''s ears. ''All this... Useless.'' A Spartiate brought no consolation. A Spartiate did not give comfort. A Spartiate was nothing but a tool.

    A tool did not try, a tool did not reach, a tool could do nothing but serve.

    He could do this until he would be dismissed. He could slaughter the new opponents that got in the way of His Lady''s new path.

    If His Lady needed a shield, he could be that shield. If His Lady needed a spear, he would be that spear. If His Lady needed something else, he could have tried to not be anymore Spartiate Number Six.

    "Your end has come, daeva!" A fiery circle. His Lady recognized what was within it. A lamia, spitting hell from her mouth, and whose body was consecrated to sin. The tail, a serpent that was hideous poison. The mantle, the fierce fair that rode the earth. The eyes, the center of every infernal pit.

    Surrounded by aberrations like her, progeny of demons and devils, the lamia stood standing alone, singing a melody in harmony with the pleas of those who had lost their way. At her feet were the remnants of sacrifices, the last scraps of those who had fulfilled her ambition, the last vestiges of what had been offered up for damnation.

    Two singers led that supplication immolated to the below.

    The skin, a blue that rotted inexorably on its way to the white of the end. Gauze-like veils embraced the grim and burnished forms. Threads sutured their hands to the rest of the body. The same threads sealed their eyelids and mouths, in a cage of silence and blindness. Their tears were carmine ashes, flooding their cheeks where bones dug into flesh, falling on the earth they had soiled.

    And for every tear that married with the abyss they dug the extreme madness of song regurgitated new and insane notes, which were not music, were not melody. They were the laments of those who had paid the price, the last curses of spirits who had been torn from the cycle of eternity. Withered away, never able to sprout anew.

    Around their circlet was what the Spartiates had brought between them just before.

    Death. Death for the below.

    Spartiate Number Six shared His Lady''s thoughts: ''Why eliminate yourself? Were they looking forward to the last acts, the last breaths? Foretelling the end, did they seek a new beginning?''

    "Demons? I think they are supplicants, but I have never seen any in fleshes and bones." His Lady forbade them to approach her, having come within a few steps of the circlet. Spartiate Number Six felt no concern for His Lady, for she worried was not. His Lady pointed The Guide, who had summoned the Spartiates, toward the lamia. "So what should they do?"

    They pleaded, the supplicants. They were pleading for whatever a demon could worship. They begged, with their bowls sewn together, their hands immobilized, their eyes half-closed, whoever would hear their prayer. But an unheard prayer was just a postulation without resolution.

    ''I am here,'' thought His Lady. ''I am listening.''

    The supplicants strained their mumblings even more, made their singing elysian until they reached the divine, in an attempt to reach godhead. While all that remained around them was the lamia who had invoked them, and His Lady approaching. The Guidance was retracted, while she remained in heed.

    "The supplicants'' song should drive every living being who comes in contact with it to madness," the lamia disconsolately stroked one of her kind whose throat had been cut. The knife, still fresh, was placed between the fingers of the one who had left. On the neck of the summoner, something indefinite pulsed to the rhythm of that anguished chanting. "Have I sacrificed everything? To achieve nothing?"

    Spartiate Number Six could not realize that besides them and His Lady, besides the weeping lamia and the chanting supplicants, there was no one lurking. He could not realize that the last command given to him, ''Be on guard,'' was pointless. So he held his shield high, just as the other Spartiates did. Without knowing rest.

    His Lady entered the circlet. The fire as fierce as the one of her gaze. Glittering flames engulfed the Lady in a blaze of fulgent inferno. Unscathed, she passed by, her figure a gossamer spectacle, glaring as did the sun and the stars when they were still young. "Our efforts are not always rewarded." If compassion had graced His Lady, then the Spartiate could have shared it as well. "Before I put an end to your suffering, a last inquiry. Please do not lie, for I will be cognisant of it. Tell me, is your king here?"

    "My king..." The lamia continued to caress her companion, while the supplicants continued to chant, in the grip of a mystical trance that only His Lady could end. The something that was now an eye vibrated. "My Heaven¡­ That''s what I should have called him. A Heaven that walks in the sky is a contradiction. I yielded to that contradiction. But a demon cannot look above himself. I... I pointed my gaze toward the earth, and now the Abyss came to call me back. Are you, perhaps, that Abyss?"

    "I am nothing of the sort," replied His Lady. Between Heaven and Earth, she was unmoved by those afflictions. A mountain could never share the view of the plains. Their horizons were not the same. "Call me Abyss, if you want. Call me daeva, or demon, or monster, if it pleases you. If you want me to be the object of your hatred, hate me as well. If you want me to be the end of your wishes, heap a curse on me. Call your King Heaven, if it delights you. Call those whom you loved hope, deluding you. That will not change what is. What you have done, and what you will do, is the result of your work, and your work alone."

    "I chose madness!" The lamia tore the skin of her neck, where the eye she blamed for her mistakes lay. "This was Orodaltis''s work!Orodaltis Indere, who chose madness! That''s who I am! And for what? I do not need to hear the wailing of penitents to give up reason!" She tore, but did not perish. The eye fell. But did not close. "Abyss, cover the sky that condemned us to all this! This will be my last plea!"

    The supplicants continued with their entreaty.

    "So be it."

    His Lady reaped what was left to reap. Even when the demons dissipated, remaining only traces of corrupted magical energy, one could still hear the reverberation of those invocations. Although they had been useless, the Lady did not want them to remain worthless.

    ''Let us pray.'' His Lady was devout. Spartiate Number Six could not pray, for praying was the meeting of doubting thought and unwavering faith. His thought, was that of His Lady. His faith, was that of His Lady. He could at least listen, though. That he could do.

    His Lady did not pray for the lamia she had killed, nor for those she had trampled in her path. His Lady did not pray for her own sake, and for the future that loomed. His Lady did not pray for atonement, to redeem the sins of the past. Praying, for her, was simply an expression of herself. She prayed because she wanted to, without any secondary purpose.

    ''Bless this world. The strong and the weak, equally. Those who oppress, and those who are oppressed. So that the suffering inflicted on us may be repaid. So that the sacredness of our task may endure.''

    The Spartiate repeated in words that had never been spoken, in a language that had never been concocted, sentiments that had never been felt.

    ''Thank you for your love. Thank you for trying to understand me. Thank you for the loneliness. Thank you for being by my side. This will be the last time we will see each other. Those who come after you will be different. Friends I have cherished. Companions who have protected me. Soldiers who fought by my side.''

    When the time for goodbyes came, Spartiate Number Six could not smile like His Lady, because Spartiates did not smile. He could not address His Lady, because the Spartiate could not communicate.

    Yes.

    From the very beginning the Spartiate did not understand His Lady. From the beginning the Spartiate had only been able to craft in his mind that girl who had called Him back to serve Her.

    What had happened for the Spartiate did not correspond to reality.

    Yet...

    For the Spartiate it did not matter. Even if the Guidance would have called him back to the origin, even if those memories would have been forgotten, shared with no one, even if it had been a mere fabrication, they would have been no less important to the Spartiate. And for His Lady.

    Even if they had concealed falsehoods within them. Even if they would have been destined to cease after a single miserable second.

    Disappearing, Spartiate Number Six could sense the girl''s gratitude. He had not done much, the awareness of this was concrete as the thought -the being- returned to emptiness. He had relieved, just for a little while, a burden that would grow increasingly larger.

    By the time Spartiate Number Six was no more, the girl was already gone. Antilene had not hesitated, before teleporting to those who still needed her.

    Perhaps, however, before leaving, the half-elf had been able to turn back one last time, just the moment needed to be able to express her gratitude to all those who watched over her. That slender, gallant figure could adjust the bow she had tied on her arm, and the blue rose she wore on her chest one more time, happy for not being by herself.

 Chapter 56: there and back again (p.2)

    Chapter 56

    There and Back Again (part.2)

    Mirina awoke in the midst of the battle. No slumber was hers. In the realm of dreams she was not lost.

    Prince Alexander led them. Fierce, beautiful. A man amongst men. First in line, shouting orders and preparing assaults. Felling enemies with a sweep of his sword, letting the dirt soil his images like the poorest of his followers. Was that a prince? Was that a king?

    The Union had no kings, or queens. So her father used to teach. The nobles that ruled the cities had called themselves master, mayor, magister for no crown could rest on their heads. Lords of little worlds, the Union was no more their domain, no longer the playtoy of royalty, the soil for their ambitions.

    It was the Law that ruled them all.

    That was why the imperium of the Equestrian was to resist. That was why no centaur, no monster, no god could proclaim their lands. For better it was to leave them as ruin, than as spoils. The Grand Debate had enshrined that pact of equality.

    No more war. No more war, what a dream. Foolish, could have been said. No more war. Something worth dying for.

    ''When this sword is yours, the Dark Knight will revive in you once again like he did with me. Like he did with your grand-father, and his father before him.'' Mirina was a child when she heard these words. A child of six, or seven. The gaze of her father clouded by the mist of forgetfulness that the passed time carried. Now a woman of twenty-nine, almost thirty, could hear those same words. ''The Crocdabal line lives with you. No, it''s more correct to say that you are the Crocdabal line itself.''

    Still, her father was an indistinct shape. Like the centaurs that now came to her. On the arches the Dark Knight drew, the trail of something was scattered close to her. It was no blood, nor skin. Sorrow, it could have been. As if sorrow could drop, as if sorrow could be lacerated. As if the last laments could impregnate the air, the broken aspirations fertilize the ground.

    If a flower was to bloom from that ordeal, for Mirina already looked withered away. Consumed by her greed, wasted by the ages.

    "My lady, they are attacking the rear." The squire was unknown to her. Mirina watched that young gasping, drowning in sweat. A face that had to stand to battle yet. Assigned to her by her beloved. A lamb to sacrifice for eventual salvation. For Kista. All for Kista.

    "Leave it to me."

    An ambush on the road to Orcleans. It was expected, for Prince Alexander''s words. It was expected, but still it would have a cost. The Great Plains would not fight in narrow spaces. They wouldn''t risk a siege in a fortified city, when rebels could still lurk in their behinds.

    ''It is not a sword that you will wield. It is not a sword that you will bath in blood. It will be your first, and only, friend. It will be what you will call love, what you will deem hate. On nights without sleep, it will keep watch on you. Your companion when you will see the sun rise, your support when the desire to abandon everything will be intense¡­''

    Mirina still heard that voice, only an echo of a distinct past. What was not a reminiscence, a trick of the mind, was the sword. Crocdabal, the sword of rot.

    Opaque, in its colors. The violet of Mirina''s iris could be seen in the metal fibrils of the blade. A sign, according to her family. An indisputable proof of the link between them and him.

    The Dark Knight. The companion of the Leader. The second of the Thirteen. The hero who slayed demons and fiends, accepting and dominating a cursed heritage. He who experienced a doomed love, of which no future was left from the start. Burying those he cherished, abandoning the bonds he had made, that hero had never turned back with regret.

    "Protect the healers! People adept with shields cover from the arrows! Everyone who can fight has to stand between supplies and enemies!"

    In fighting, the woman could see the world for what it was meant to be. The Great Law commanded them all. The Law that glued all of the Union in something that was more than a simple sum of the parts. As such, no larceny on her part. Killing was on the part of the rightful, an imperative command of enlightenment dispositions.

    Mirina looked back to the one she loved, to the one who made fighting so simple. Kista of the lips that melted like honey, Kista of the laughs that resonated with the soul, Kista that had robbed a Dark Knight of her heart. Reclaiming another life was light. Kista''s smile made it so.

    Someone she did not recognize fell next to her. An arrow had pierced the abdomen. Mirina did not notice how quick the passing was; she did not bother to make sure there was still breath in them. Vengeance was called upon by the act. Covering the distance between her and the archer, the champion of the Union was still with the mind back to her love. The bow was already taut when she delivered punishment.

    The other soldiers of the Great Plains started to circle around her, each kicking step invigorated by the offense received.

    "Come. Your companion was sent ahead of the beaten path. Soon, you will follow," she taunted. "Who is first?"

    "Mizael, sergeant of the Great Heaven."

    Already down after one blow. Already the Great Heaven wept for the loss.

    "Who is next?"

    No more duels for them. It was one against many. Shaking like many capelins in small rivers, theirs was not a sorted line, a disciplined formation. Mirina''s head was the prize for their glory, the steps for the ladder of their immortality.

    Mirina thought of the Dark Knight. The Dark Knight that was not Mirina Crocdabal. The Dark Knight that was not Mirina''s forefathers.

    A hero who wielded four swords, to which only one to them remained. Crocdabal, the sword of Rot. Crocdabal, the name her father had bestowed upon her. A family that called itself like a sword. A sword that was more precious than many lives, with more history than any chronicle. The people would fade, the sword would rest.

    ''Now, this sword is yours. Now this sword is you.''

    Now, Mirina and Crocdabal were one. But the Dark Knight, the real Dark Knight, was not one. He was four.

    Not only the rot of Crocdabal, but also the curse of Kilineraim, the absolute end of Sfeiz, the malevolence of Hyumilis.

    Crocdabal was decay, the rot that plagued her lineage. Mirina accepted it, as ones accepted the sound of their voice, the hue of their skin.

    The putrescence of the passings already permeated with filthy stench the before-limpid air. Every lounge was a finishing move. Every movement was a cadence of perfection. For Mirina did not rest in her duty. The expeditiousness of her work was the fruit of a devotion to recreate a new legend.

    A fruit where worms and pustules dwelled, the festering of marcescence thrived in the line of Crocdabal. Crocdabal, like the sword. Crocdabal, like the rot.

    A centaur sank the spear in the breastplate. The impact grazed the woman, her breath slipped for a second. An imprecation escaped: "Damn." But of pain there was no trace. The grip on Crocdabal remained firm, the attack that came no more than an after-thought.

    When she first had felt the handle between her fingers, a long time ago, an unexpected surprise had welcomed her. A child watched a weapon in awe. A child watched the steamy metal, the aura of despair, and realized, almost by chance: ''This is no toy. This is meant to accomplish what the adults call death.''

    A child could not reason like an adult. But a child could accept the hilt that the father served, whispering by themselves: ''This is no toy. What is then?'' Was it death? Death was a scary word. A word that a child couldn''t not fully understand. Was it fear? A child could grasp what fear meant. A child could observe the shadows on the walls, in the room, and retreat. The same shadows ornating the circular knob, now and then, gushing out dread itself from the metal that was so cold to the touch.

    But the sword was more. The sword was gentle. Could darkness be gentle? Could rot and decay express tenderness? Those emotions narrated like a tale, for those whom she shared them with. They depicted a nightmare, for those who met her blade.

    That centaur sampled the latter, his body pleading for a different fate when realization of what destiny had in mind for him. Crocdabal did not sever the flesh, did not cut the bones. Crocdabal plagued. A sword that did not ask for acceptance, that did not console with a short end.

    The skin yellowed, in a perfect marriage between the seconds that preceded after-life and the infinite last spans of consciousness. In sickness, and in anguish. The promised neverland was a throat that could not articulate language, eyes that were surrounded by fleas and roaches, bare muscles offered to the warming sun.

    Illness, malnourishment, decadence.

    To be touched by the sword of rot meant to experience a life of disease in the span of moments. The ruthless indifference of the blackest hunger, the delirium that followed the harshest fever. Living many lives, each one in suffering. Wishing for infinity was to receive excruciations. To find a better way to describe torture would have been hard for many.

    And yet, for Mirina it was without a doubt gentleness that caressed her. The same gentleness that loomed by her father''s stern look. The same love that felt warm at Kista''s embrace. Crocdabal could bring decay to everything, but could not rot love. It could not change the affection of her father. It could not mutate what her and her beloved shared.

    Once, that sword had been at the side of someone who loved. Once, that sword had shown that everything ruins, except love.

    ''Now, this sword is mine. Now, this sword is me.''

    If that was the heirloom of a doting ancestor, or the shameful legacy of thieves, Mirina could not say. What she could say was that she loved that sword, and that sword loved her in return.

    ''I''m sorry.'' Crocdabal''s tip was stained with the remains of the centaurs slayed. In the pause of a blink, the black luminescence had returned. Observing the corpses of those who had attacked her, the Dark Knight could not withhold a brief suspiration of exhaustion.

    A voice called her. Soft, but firm.

    "No need to cry for them, my lady. Please, reserve your tears for our soldiers."

    "My Prince," Mirina knelt at her liege. The strong smell after a battle was of no disturbance for her. "I was not crying. I shed no tears for anyone. I lament the meaninglessness of conflict."

    Alexander remained afar. The retainers close to him, but distant in some way.

    "Stand up. There is no need for obeisance between us," Mirina did as she was told. "You think all of this is unnecessary? That we should have bent the head to the invader?"

    The Dark Knight could perceive the lack of judgment in the Prince. Alexander was curious of her reaction, of her viewpoint. A strange man, in Mirina''s opinion. Sometimes, he was unfathomable in his designs. Others, he approached the world like a child eager to learn as much as possible.

    "Not at all. I can recognize that something is senseless, like war. At the same time, I am aware when there are no alternatives," she said, after pondering with great care. "War is wrong. But not fighting back is also wrong. If I can''t offer a proper solution to the dilemma, let me curse the centaurs, the world, the gods or whatever brought me in this position. I will expel my griefs and then return to my usual self. Rest assured, if the Equestrian King was in the reach of my sword, I will not falter."

    If war was right or not, was the inquiry of philosophers. If war brought benefits or detriments, it was the domain of statesmen. Mirina was a swordswoman, and as such she could just do what she had been trained for. A sword was fabricated to kill, and to protect. A warrior was trained to do the same. But a knight¡­ A knight was meant to serve.

    Still, a sword had to be sharpened. A sword had to be taken care of. So that the steel would remain sharp, so that it would remain useful.

    Queen Kirke used to laugh at her remarks. ''All the people who excel in combat, also despise it. It''s strange, isn''t it? A painter usually doesn''t hate his paintings, a bard doesn''t loathe his songs. But a warrior¡­ A true warrior can''t recognize war as something beneficial for the world. Mirina, you are just like someone that was dear to me.''

    ''And Rea Kirke was someone dear to me,'' the Dark Knight had no replies for those considerations. Maybe hating war was stupid. Maybe it was noble. Maybe it was both at the same time. ''And now that Rea Kirke is dead, there is no more ''someone'' that laughs at me.''

    Mirina watched as the Prince knelt near her, closing the still-open eyes of one of the centaurs that now laid at her feet. "Not even for a moment I doubted where your heart is," standing up again, his body appeared thin and meek. Not fragile, though. "This was just a stupid skirmish. Probably not the last. Our scouts already confirmed that the army is waiting for us on a day of march from here. They will probably continue to ambush our supplies and rears, to catch us worn out."

    "And we will permit them to?"

    "Of course not," the retainers aided their Prince. Alexander had to force them away, to grant some intimacy. "When I die, will you shed some tears for me?" Almost a laugh, almost a breath. Such absurdities uttered like common speech. Resignation and acceptance for something that was already spelled out.

    "My lord, you jest."

    A knight was not privy to what a prince thought. Their minds elaborated on different wavelengths. The former knew how to fight, the latter how to command. The horizon Alexander watched was not privy to her.

    "Why do you think so?"

    "My lord will not die. My lord will prevail. Tomorrow is still clouded for my lord."

    "I am not your lord."

    All because her liege was no more. Rea Kirke, the only queen in the Union. A title bestowed before the Mother Law, surviving the years of darkness, but not a dagger to the throat.

    But as Rea Kirke recognized Alexander, so did Mirina Crocdabal. However, the Prince was right. Indeed, Karnasus was no capital. The Union was no empire. And Alexander was no emperor.

    "I will shed some tears, if you were to be no more. But I am sure, my eyes will remain dry."

    The Prince looked at her, vulnerable like he never had seemed. Was that how a man that was to die looked? The ominous future was not yet written, so why was he reading from some tablets already set in stone?

    "I had a dear friend. He died."

    "The Brave." Once upon a time, Mirina was renowned for her swordsmanship amongst men. Once upon a time, she was not alone in fame. "I fought against him a couple of times. Karnasus''s champion, winner of more than a Contellier. He was a great warrior. A pity, for what happened to him."

    She still remembered the valor and the ardor. Difficult not to. The Brave. Man with eyes blue as the ocean, just like the Prince. The sixteen-ray star always soaring his armor was the same now engraved in Alexander''s chest. The body blunted by battle, still vigorous. The rippled lips, little used to being open.

    The champion overlapped the prince, and the Dark Knight saw once again the old rival before her, to new life. With the years unmerciful to him, as they had been to her. Old age was not meant for warriors, that was why it reclaimed its toil while still there was youth.

    "The Immortals took him, while I fled. Still I can hear his voice. Go, he had said. Go, and save yourself. And that I did, without a second doubt. No shame in that kind of end. He was a hero, until the very end. I just¡­" Vulnerable? Alexander Arrideo Hephaistion Argades was not vulnerable. Tenting? As if. Mirina knew the Prince of Karnasus. His pride, his courage. "Celebrated yesterday, forgotten today. For me, he was more than a friend. Our destinies were linked, since the start. I am not afraid of what will happen to me. My only wish is for me to keep his legacy on. To give meaning to his sacrifice."

    A good death. No more than a good death. Almost a contradiction. A death, that could also be good.

    Alexander was honest in his showing. And if he was no more prince for her, could Mirina be no Dark Knight for him? She already had her resolve.

    "My lord, it''s getting late. We should prepare."

    She could not.

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    ''I am rotten.''

    ''You are not.''

    ''The Crocdabals are rotten.''

    ''You are not.''

    ''Our lineage spells decay.''

    ''It does not.''

    Kista was wrong, yet Mirina wanted to pretend she was right.

    ''Why did you choose me, then? The Crocdabals are rotten, aren''t they? Why did you proclaim your love for me?''

    Because love could not be fouled. Because even a wilted flower would yearn to be called beautiful. For those who knew only winter, the scent of spring was bliss.

    ''Because I love you. Isn''t that enough?''

    Her father would never have approved, had he still been on that land. The Crocdabals'' line was rotten, but it had to be preserved. To be rotten was not to be dead.

    To hell with her father. To hell with heritage. The Crocdabal''s line was rotten. Why continue, then? Why save something that had no hope of returning to greatness? If greatness had even been there, first of all. The Crocdabal was no dynasty, no history. A deceit, that it was.

    ''It''s enough¡­''

    Kista, of the lips that tasted like honey. Kista that always knew what to do. Kista that was smart, that was gorgeous, that was her addiction, that was her whole world.

    ''Love can''t rot. Love is eternal.''

    Mirina was rotten. Kista was not. So everyone and everything could have let her pretend there was no difference between the two of them.

    Even if it would have been for a little while.

    ''My dear. You are wrong. Love can fade away. Love can perverse, so as it can persevere. It can be ugly, it can be cursed, and still be love. Love can be jealousy, love can be contempt, love can be damnation.''

    ''Just let me dream, therefore. Of a love that is not like me. Of a love that is how I yearn for. Of the love of yesterday that will be like the love of tomorrow.''

    Even for just a little longer¡­

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    ''Why did I remember that day?''

    On the battlefield, the morning was set. It was her, the Prince, the army of the Union. General Chazos led Beppo Allo''s hobgoblin and trolls on the right flank, the Iron Club of their coats of arms adorned the equipment. Ris'' spellcasters behind the main unit, a blue flower on their staff and robes. And then the mercenaries of Franklin, the bowmen of Veneria, the pikes of Bebard. A regulated mass in expectation of orders.

    No wind, no clouds. The rising sunshine was their greeting.

    On the other hand, only one was against them. From afar, a centaur alone walked the earth, radiating off a golden light that made even the sun up in the sky envious.

    "Is that a joke?" Sir Niles asked her. The minotaur was fuming with rage while imparting instructions, disposing teams and formations with snarls that did not admit reply. "There is only one centaur there. Where is the rest of the army? Our scouts were wrong? No chance." He regained control of himself just as quickly, suspicious of such an anomaly.

    Miles and miles of desert. Where the legions of the plains? Where the druids, and the spearmen, and the archers? Only one, against all of them. Of course, a number did not show power. A number could be a trick, or a warning.

    "I don''t know." Mirina directed her attention to the Prince. He held the reins of the mount, listening to counselors doing what a counselor was supposed to do. He did not retort to their suggestions, did not press their arguments, did not cheer up at the battle they thought was already won. He was silent, Prince Alexander, and watched who was in front of him. "No, wait. There is someone else."

    A couple of emissaries. Centaurs without spears or swords. Nor bows or staffs. Mantled with gorgeous fabrics of fine silk. The garments of dignitaries, not warriors. After flying a peace flag to make their intentions for dialogue apparent, they announced themselves with just a phrase.

    "The Great Heaven offers you peace. Bow now, and you will return to your home. Bow now, and there will not be massacre. No misery. Only prosperity, for today and the days that will come."

    The Great Heaven. That was how the Plains called their king, Mirina recalled. The mystery of the lone centaur had been unveiled with ease.

    It was Sir Niles that addressed them, putting his ax between them and the Prince with little consideration, in a display of intimidation. "Where are your soldiers? You want to negotiate without showing your cards?"

    "Our soldiers rest in Orcleans," the emissary replied, getting closer to them, heedless of the unsubtle threat. "The Great Heaven discerned that you are of no danger to him. The result of the battle has already been proven. The Great Heaven recognizes your valor and offers for some of you to join his cause. You are Sir Niles, correct?"

    The minotaur nodded, unable to hide a small part of his muddiness. "Why do you want to know? Diplomacy has long been relinquished by both parties."

    "Sir Niles, the King of the arena," the emissary enunciated that epithet with respect, though for Mirina a little scorn was not completely suppressed. "Mirina Crocdabal, the Dark Knight. And, of course, Prince Alexander Arrideo Hephaistion Argades, the splendor of the Union. The Great Heaven wants to speak with all of you. Lay down your arms, cease this madness. Now while you still can."

    Mirina remained silent, so did Sir Niles. The occasion of negotiations had long passed. A mere formality for the opponent. Even those ambassadors would have had difficulty believing their eventual agreement.

    The Prince also ignored that offer, as it was expected. Alexander had only a single inquiry for them.

    "Where is your army? Do you want us to siege Orcleans?"

    "The Great Heaven alone is enough," the emissary pointed to the centaur that waited alone behind him. "We already know what you are capable of. The skirmishes we prepared were organized to gauge your skills. Our King is impressed, but not afraid. And your heart, Karnassus, is already in our hands."

    ''Kista!'' Her beloved reappeared like a recollection of flashes and memories in Mirina''s mind. Was she safe? Was what that one saying true? To wait for the Prince''s response would be impossible. But to be a knight was to remember your place.

    Mirina could just stay in order, proper like a statue, showing Crocdabal -the sword that was her- to who was to be afraid of it.

    And while the mouth of Alexander started to disclose, while his expression remained indecipherable, all she could do was to repeat that name to herself.

    ''Kista.'' Of which the lips were sweets, small tastes of paradise; the hands gemstones putting to shame rubies, emeralds and quartz; the mind a treasure of everything that was bestowed to mankind. Kista, of the ten kisses long neck. ''Kista.'' To be away from her was an ache to the soul. To know her in danger was an agony for the spirit. ''Ask of Kista!'' She wanted to shout. ''Ask of Kista, my liege! Ask of Kista, my lord. I will call you king, emperor and more if you ask of her now!''

    Forcing herself to cease was akin to demand her heart to stop beating. Like asking the river to stop flowing, and the water of the sea to be salty.

    As commanding to the sun not to rise. To the moon not to shine.

    "If what you say is true," Alexander was not concerned for her beloved. If the worry for his spouse, for his friends, for his people, was there, it had to be concealed. A Prince had no link or affections, if not for his country and his homeland. "We have no choice but to fight. Tell your king that until he and your people will stay on these lands, there will be someone like me ready to resist the yoke of tyranny."

    "That will mean death."

    "Everyone here already accepted it."

    "So is that your response?"

    "So that is my response."

    The emissary did not insist, no displeasure in his parting speech. He returned from whenever he came from with his people. Their trotting was expeditious, and they soon became just another undefined mark in the distance.

    ''Kista, how is she? The queen! The queen of elves is there. Are they safe?''

    Queen Kirke had told Mirina more than once how the half-elf could not be pigeonholed by logic, could not be defined by reason. She was a concept that did not admit of common sense, a potency that could not be calibrated with the shackles of mortality.

    The Theocracy of Slaine was jealous of its secrets, possessive of its mystics. Buried in the deepest of their plots and their schemes, the new elf queen had been nurtured by the archaic and forbidden knowledge of their gods, nourished by the savvy of erstwhile diviners and prophets, enthroned by elysian rituals and spells.

    ''I know that she is strong. The masterpiece of a history of resistance. The sterling paragon of those who had fought monsters since humanity was taking its first steps. But at the same time she is so¡­ harmless. I never felt an uncomfortable feeling in her presence, nor did I reevaluate any convictions from scratch. Antilene Heran Fouche, will you really be so extraordinary?''

    Antilene had talked with her, exchanged more than one confidence in the intimacy of a hearth. And for Mirina, first of all that was a girl who yearned to be normal. Gloomy, perhaps. Eccentric, for sure. The half-elf carried a placid suffering, as everyone did, but she did not let that define her as her only characteristic.

    It was not fitting what Rea Kirke had called her: monster.

    Soon, the sun was to set. Mirina unfurled Croacdabal, setting her mind to combat, casting her worries away. ''Kista is safe,'' she repeated to herself. ''Kista is safe,'' was her charm. ''Kista would never leave before me.'' It would have been absurd for a budding flower to die before the wilting one. ''We will reunite, or she will remain alone.''

    A shadow loomed in the sky¡­

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Mirina could not make out what had happened. The Prince was in the midst of his discourse. The troops were rallying to his words. Bells and drums chimed to his incitement. The excitement and the bloodlust were starting to spread.

    And then¡­

    Something chastened that noise, imposing a quieten hush to the growing frenzy. A racket of pure dissonance roared in the distance, the mirage of serenity dispelled by sparks combusting the air.

    The dust. A tide of dust had risen from the earth, covering every view. That fleeting instant of tranquility that covered the hour before the battle had lasted longer than it should have. Mirina had found herself catapulted a few meters back, far from her men. Blinded by gray smoke as the stench of burnt air obstructed her smooth respiration. A bitter smell of burned flesh mixed with heated metal, an acrid aroma of coppery imbued with the musky, sweet scent of consumed liquid.

    The first thing the Dark Knight ascertained was that she still had Crocdabal in her hands. ''The sword that is me.'' To the touch, she could feel that kindness pulsating in her veins.

    Only when she could breathe a sigh of relief did she realize she was down. In trying to get up, the Dark Knight was forced to discover that something was hurting her.

    The left arm was moved in an unnatural position behind the back. Putting it in the rightful place made every bone lament in sorrow. ''I need a healer.'' Cold-minded, Mirina analyzed what was around her. She tried to lift a priest that was laying a few feet before her, only to see his upper body disconnect from the lower half. ''At least he did not suffer,'' she thought. A meager consolation. For him, or for her?

    To ease the pain it proved impossible not to use one of the potions she had brought with her. ''As a palliative it will be sufficient, but it is not comparable to the intervention of a divine caster.''

    Like her, few others were trying to connect what had befall upon them. An ordure smell all too familiar was making way in her nostrils. The urge of puking gripped her throat. The rack throes of the unlucky dug out with ferocity the eardrums.

    "My lady, are you alright?" The squire of the other day had miraculously survived. Mirina had left him to the back rear of the formation, and yet he was covered in blood and dust, his face a mask of scars.

    Gasping, one could sense the terror of the boy slipping away from the drops of sweat that moved about him in the manner of bolted slugs. The shield on his back, made of a blunt iron, had been rendered unusable before it could even be gripped.

    "Yeah, I am still breathing," Mirina tried to forget the pain. The arm was okay. She needed to convince herself as such. The arm was okay. The horror she was witness to could not unfaze her. "Where is the Prince? Where is Niles?"

    The squire shook his head. What was his name? She could have asked him. But she did not. Why she had not? Because it was not important. Was that a fine reason? Her head was spinning. Everything was a mess.

    "I don''t know. There were a couple of explosions, one after the other. And then the whole army was in disarray. General Chazos is wounded, but is rallying the ones who can still fight to the east wing. There is a survivor for every ten deaths."

    Mirina had the impression that the last statement was more optimistic than it should have, but did not press further.

    "We have to find the Prince," The Dark Knight moved, just to find another corpse. "If he is still alive, we have to move him to safety."

    Trampling over those who she had considered companions, she could not care for their demise. Seeing that suffering, she could not bring herself to share their laments. When a beg for help arose, it was met with indifference.

    For she was a knight, before all else.

    And a knight had a duty that was rotten, just like her. The duty of a knight was not to serve the weak, to console the miserables. The duty of a knight was not chivalry, for that were just tarradiddles of bards. A lie carefully crafted for the people. The duty of knighthood was to guffaw at danger, to gorge with the falting expectations of the plebs.

    The Union fancied no king, no queen. But still there were people that nominated themselves as such. What was the difference then for a knight? A knight did not swore to a crown, nor to a throne. A knight swore to a liege, in seek of guidance.

    Crocdabal, the sword of rot. A family that was like a sword. A sword that was like her.

    Her existence was one of serving. What was she? A wilted flower, not deserving of love. She couldn''t even remember her squire''s name.

    "My lady, he is here."

    Prince Alexander was standing alone. All the retainers escaped or worse. There was just a centaur confronting him, a parquet of red connected the two rulers in a form of ceremony that was as dignified as it was macabre.

    Sir Niles was a few meters away from them. Unconscious, but breathing. A wound disfigured the minotaur''s shoulder, fragments of armor already mixed with flesh and bone. The still-wielding ax bore witness to his last deed.

    "So, Prince Alexander, we finally meet." A voice that was broad with regality decried of the current plight. The Equestrian King gave honor to his name. This was what a king was supposed to be.

    "At least." Alexander could barely utter a whisper. No dignified was his stance, nor imposing was his figure. Weak. How weak he was.

    "To be so cantankerous to our advice¡­ was it worth it? Was this all you wanted?" The Great Heaven, in return, cast a shadow that was brittle, that was dazzling. The radiance of the adamantium and the luster of the panoply in which he was wreathed crowned him as the pinnacle of the universe. A monster that was hallowed of veneration, that could make the word ''god'' poignant with substance, imbued with the sacredness of a being that escaped all control of rationality. "Your army destroyed. Your nation ablaze. The people you trusted in chains for eternity. We just want to know¡­ was it all worthwhile?"

    That was Darius the First, Shah of the Great Plains and Emperor under Heaven. That was the monster that could vanquis multitudes, the star in the sky that made heroes and champions look like the great unwashed.

    The selfbow at his arms effulgent of a green dazzle, it instilled an alien and fascinating awe. Embedded in the two extremity small pearls reminiscent of the roughshod of the firedrakes of yore.

    If Crocdabal told a tale, they replicated history. No legend, no fantasies. Only the brutal reality of the dominant, the harsh truth of the potents.

    Truly, after witnessing him disposing of their numbers, of playing with their confidence, displaying the authority of who sat at the peak of high vault, it was only expected to bend to his will, to accept his rule.

    And yet, Alexander did not. Alexander remained calm, composed. Bloody. Harried. His heartbeat drummed so fast you could hear it from a distance. The splendor of his cuirass now untidy fragments adorning a bare and exposed pectus. Compared to the Equestrian King, so insignificant he appeared.

    And yet, Alexander did not falter. Alexander did not flinch. Instead, he laughed. To express mirth in the face of the reaper was akin to madness, galling to the executioner a last sign of folly. But the Prince did not forsaken reason. His intellect had not been sunk in the inexplicable.

    "It was worthy, O Great Heaven. After seeing you, I am reassured." His lucidity was inconceivable. The clarity of his eloquence was not disturbed by the dubiousness of existence. Never a man had spoken with such peace of mind. "Everything I did, I did for a precise aim. To kill you, to free my people of your threat. Today I was witness to your power. Today I experienced the full might of your wrath. Today, I can finally rest. For I am sure you will never set your gaze on another dawn."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The squire at Mirina''s side couldn''t believe it. "Has he gone mad?" For he peered at the aura of the Equestrian King, shaking his legs at the pressure of his killing intent, regurgitating the last ounces of bravery and respect that remained. "My lady, we have to help him."

    ''A child,'' Mirina realized. ''He is still a child and he is there. He could run, but run where? There is no escape.''

    The Dark Knight understood why the squire had mistaken the Prince''s certitude for foolishness. She too was aware of the danger represented by the Equestrian King. Like him, Mirina could perceive his bloodlust on display, the ominousness of an aura that gripped every figment of imagination, that did not let even for a brief instance contemplate salvation.

    If the Mother Law was the chain that bound together every culture and costume of the Union, the root of their system and the skeleton of their institutions, Darius the King represented something different. His was the Law of Nature, the ancestral rule that dictated every interaction, since the first holler of creation. Woe betide the defeated.

    Everything for the strong to take. The ravishing of the innocents, that caused only misery to the helpless. The indifference of the gods to pules of those who had only their whispers left.

    And yet¡­ And yet.

    Mirina, like Alexander, could not be impressed. Like the Prince, the Dark Knight finally put together all the last weeks in a mosaic which completion made it perfect. And like him, she was able to calm down blissfully. ''Kista is safe,'' was her conclusion. ''Kista is safe, because she is with her. Kista is safe, because the Equestrian King is scary, the Equestrian King is all powerful, and the Equestrian King is a dread incarnate. But the Equestrian King is not her.''

    The fierce midday of the Equestrian King was a feeble esthesis. But the halcyon night was a different thing altogether. Not the need to impose, nor the desire to subject. For true kingship did not relieve in violence, did not squander in petty wranglings.

    To the hilarity of the Prince the Equestrian King could only reply in askance. If not covered by the helmet, Mirina was sure that she could have glimpsed his mouth in agape. "You say that we will not see another dawn, but it is you who stand defeated before us. Your army is scattered to the cardinal points, isn''t it? Why not lament the condition of your fate? Why blabbering such nonsense? Tell me, prince of men, why do you laugh? Tell me, prince of men, why don''t you despair?" The more he spoke, the more a crack could be heard in Darius'' self-confidence. The abstemiousness of his tone soon replaced by an ire that it was stranger to him as it was to them.

    The Prince that had become zany continued to persist in his mockery. He had no chance to defend himself, no energy to lift his sword. Impassioned by his assuagement, Alexander was now waiting for the pre-established outcome.

    "If this is your response there is no more to say," Darius prepared his final shot. The steps of its preparation were not hampered by imperfections. With over-the-top elegance, he placed the chosen arrow on the bow, charging resolutely. "Farewell, prince of men."

    Mirina intercepted it. Or rather, she tried to. The Dark Knight swang her sword, untoward to her well-being, trying to block the Equestrian King''s bow.

    Crocdabal grazed his right gauntlet, but could not do more than annoy the centaur. The sword of rot was not enough to damage Darius. No plague was sufficient for him. No disease could notch the vigor of the Equestrian King. Mirina could have hit that body for hours without any avail. But it was sufficient to divert his attention, to buy a mere second. In the end, Crocdabal -the sword that was her- had been ineffective, but not useless.

    Her attempt was akin to a fly that tried to sting the reinforced scales of a dragon. A minor nuisance. Darius dismissed her with nonchalance, striking the Dark Knight with an elbow to the side. What had been just a movement of the arm for him, had hurled Mirina meters away, letting her roll through debris and stones, spitting saliva like a waterfall. In sync, the pain that had bent her until just before returned with even more callous craze.

    "The famous Dark Knight. Why does everyone here aspire to die?" Now Darius'' attention was aimed at her, at least. Mirina was ready to rest in peace, as she now knew that her beloved was safe. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the squire was leading Sir Niles to shelter. For her and the Prince it was too late, but maybe he could be saved. Reciting a final thanks, she complained for not having asked the youngster his name, and welcomed the end.

    "Stop!" Alexander shouted. The Prince made a step to prove he was still there. "Kill me first."

    "You will just delay her demise for a few seconds."

    "That''s enough," uttered Alexander. "She promised to shed some tears for me. O gallant king, you will surely grant a last request."

    Darius marveled once again, but decided to honor that last whim. "This is truly the end."

    "It is."

    Mirina saw the Prince smile, as the arrow pierced through his chest. The Dark Knight felt her eyes get moist as Alexander started to collapse. It had been an unceremonious death, not appropriate for a prince. The last sound the body emitted was a dismissed thud, hardly imposing.

    The Great Heaven muttered some last goodbyes: "He had been a respectable adversary, all things considered. It saddened me to get to this point. Now, I will avoid asking you to join me, for I already know your answer. Worry not, I will grant you a painless death."

    "When you want." Mirina was satisfied. ''Kista, forgive me. I hope I will see you again.'' The rot was no more. The Crocdabal''s heritage ended with her.

    She waited for something that never came. The arrow was knocked to the bow''s string, but never reached her. Opening her eyes, Mirina could almost touch the tip with the nose. Instead of the void, it was a familiar voice that welcomed her.

    "Sorry, I was late."

    Mirina was pervaded by a soothing energy that healed her. A hand helped the Dark Knight stand up.

    "Lady Fouche," the half-elf was right next to her, playing with the arrow she had already reclaimed. "Is¡­ Karnasus¡­ Is Kista¡­?"

    "Don''t worry. Everything is fine."

    Darius looked incredulously at the newcomer. Indifferent to the strangeness of the situation, the centaur was as if paralyzed by an anathema that now repeated, "That is the daeva? An elf? Or¡­ a human?"

    Antilene did not dignify him with consideration. The half-elf turned to her, "Take away the body of that fool."

    "But you¡­"

    "I will be fine."

    Mirina did as she was ordered. She had not failed to notice that Antilene was as pristine as she was when they last met.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Interlude: the King in the Plains (part. 2)

    "When you are ready."

    Darius prepared to attack.

    Forthwith the Equestrian King fired his shot, delaying his hesitation. The alabaster demon immobile in front of him, pending for the inevitable onset, did not manage to avoid the fury of Khvarenah.

    The arrow made a brief journey, covering the short distance that separated them from each other. In Darius''s imagination that was an abyss that was crossed in an eternity; his perception of time discombobulated by a subconscious that cried alarm, that suggested caution.

    All doubt was smothered in the sheer authority of his own power, in the years of experience refined in the Plains. For Darius was a king, but before had been a hunter.

    And this was a new prey. A beast with no fangs, claws or wings, and no less dangerous for that. Slender and thin, the zephyr could have dragged along that inauspicious malice with just a burst of the wind. The scythe she wielded was pitch-black, dusk as the night without stars.

    Unknown to him, but not impossible to subjugate. If there was power in words, the Equestrian King was ready to become the thief, robbing the daeva of the bane, making the Great Heaven the new scourge. If that was a test, could it be the last.

    The elf''s head bent back. The neck, a perfect white, almost blanched with abhorrent malady, was a canvas of purity where obscenities and nightmares mingled. Without eyes, it looked back to Darius, and he remembered a tree seen many years ago, when he was still a foal.

    Etiolated by an upbringing in the caves, the roots had been dried by the barrenness of the soil, the leaves never adorning its boughs. While all the other plants had long shriveled by the impervious condition, that one alone had grown in the entrance of the cavern, in the same fashion of a ruler imposing its domain. Without the warmth of sunlight, it had been gloom which had cultivated its magnificence, in disregard of every rule and process of nature.

    As the head of the girl slowly rose, the Equestrian King shivered with fearfulness. Every hair on his body tangled with a tingle of a cryptical and new emotion. The four knees almost buckled as the fruition of such a gesture arrived at the covet result.

    The chilling symmetry of black and white that painted her hair, which infused the irises with an evil glow, framed the mystery of something ancestral, lost in the memory of the world. The Equestrian King caught a glimpse of himself in those wells of maleficence, horrifying at what they reflected.

    For the first time he saw himself small and pathetic, at the mercy of something that could not be properly fathomed.

    For the first time the hunter was befooled by the prey, for the first time the wolf agnized the despair of the lamb.

    Darius saw the arrow released wedged between the teeth of the elf. Carelessly, she gripped the wood and firmly detached it from her mouth, tossing it away as a minor thing. That so ordinary finger movement was carved into his memory with a veneration comparable to that with which the novice commemorated the master''s every gesture, in hope of making them his one day.

    The bewilderment of such a spectacle suggested to the Equestrian King that he had been trapped in a foul reverie, that the last minute had been an illusion that fobbed his senses.

    A steady voice that followed clarified that no thaumaturgy was imposed as his prison, no play to his nous deployed.

    "Not bad," an euphony that reverberated in the wake of the singing of nightingales. "I almost didn''t notice the blow. Luck was on my side."

    Darius could tell apart the lie from the melody. He could distinguish the prevarication of the statement. A fabrication made to muddle the opponent, the first gambit of challenge from the elf. Superbia was the enemy of discipline, and planting that seed was the regular course in a duel between equals.

    What the logic could pick out, though, did not always have the same implications for the soul. The Equestrian King acknowledged the praise as if it had been true, and comforted at the recognition of the girl. "I was mistaken," Darius said, cooling every emotion steaming from the lie, preserving his dignity as a sovereign. "What happened to the army I sent to Karnasus?"

    The elf turned around, scrutinizing the now desert, the result of Darius''s making. "Your answer is already here."

    "I see. It would be hypocritical of me to regret such a predicament, having reached this point." The centaur allowed himself still a second of mourning, for all like him that had been put to rest, without a proper burying as only reward. Better to be sanctimonious, than abandon all traces of compassion. "Maybe since the start we should have fought just the two of us."

    The girl''s cadence was wispy. "No need. If war could be resolved with a duel, it would lose all its meaning, don''t you think so? We are meant to be the climax, the last hope. The trump card of each array fated to seal the closing act of the narration." She put distance between them, assuming an improper stance. Her scythe was put on the shoulder, awaiting orders. Her free hand hung limply at her side. "The moment a monarch invades another land, he has to put away every sentimentalism and regret. Decisions have consequences, and we must accept their burden."

    Darius could understand. Indeed, as a king his was the project of unification. To reunite the lands that once were one, he had to discard the well-being of his subjects, the affection for his peers.

    The elf was warning him: you could not bargain only your own life when demanding subservience. A so little cost would have made the magnitude of that act worthless. Even if he could not completely accept that lesson, he could at least be grateful for it.

    "Your name?"

    "Antilene."

    "Splendid name."

    The hoovers pawed, a trail of detritus dispersed in the air. Khvarenah extended to the utmost limit, the sinews of the system called Darius in the same way. When both him and Antilene started to move the wind almost stopped to blow, the world halted its round.

    As Darius adjusted his speed to match the elf''s, he could already gauge the difference, perceiving the fatigue crippling his breathing, while the counterpart would cross the finish line of that imaginary race.

    From the quiver, the Equestrian King pulled out the dragon-arrows, crafted in old glory. When he put one on the string, maybe his fantasy, maybe a real admonishment, spoke with the voice of the draco he had slain, iterating the same words that had once been used to define him, in the same hateful fashion of then: filth of the Emperor.

    Heedless of such an exemplary sign, the centaur again shot against the elf. Pervaded by his martial arts, the arrow inflamed with his magic, the heat replicating the fiery breath of the owner from which scales it had been carved, churning with vivid energy.

    The splistream of its pass corruscated the atmosphere with cobwebby sparks of fire, evoking a disaster of mastodontic proportion, foretelling the wrecking of its arrival.

    Without surprise, Antilene took notice of it, and while the projectile still bristled, igniting with a tremendous vividness, she opened the palm of her free hand and welcomed it slightly to her, like the child eagerly awaited to receive the toy.

    Now, Darius envisaged the protection of her glove getting trespassed and the skin penetrated by the glowing metal of the tip. Instead, it was the arrow that shattered its run, while the flames evaporated at her touch.

    Last scrapes of blazes erupted in a tower of torpid inflammation, entrapping the girl in a cage of conflagration. She did not anguish at the infliction, nor was consumed by the soaring heat. Instead, the elf came out unblemished by the ordeal, annoyed by what for the majority would have been a sentence of inferno.

    The Equestrian King''s viscera thrilled in upheaval at the vision.

    Antilene''s maraud came as a natural reaction. As she had been waiting for his move, before responding in kind. The semblance of her form disappeared to Darius'' onlook, the blurred lines traced by the eyesight drew the outlines of the elf''s contours with inhuman toil, managing only to skim the entire whole of hundreds of actions executed in the twinkling of an eyelash.

    Darius made to lift the vambraces, envisioning the backlash of a potential clash, gearing up for a confrontation of fortitude.

    It was futile.

    The central blade of the scythe was already dug into his side as the Equestrian King began to become aware of the tremendous pain that started to protrude first to his head, then to spread like a sore to every nerve in his body. The thin line that connected him to life ebbing as the reaper that masked itself as a girl unwrapped the orphic esthesis of his being.

    What lurked in the cryptic part of cognizance, hidden by a protective subconscious, were monsters that you could never see, that you could never set your eyes on, for their mere presence would bring to the realm of madness, to the landscape of horror.

    Darius'' privilege had been to be able to cross that line, to douse himself in the deepest abyss of the bottomless sea, bathing with the sight of what was foreclosed to him.

    Antilene had proven herself a preceptor to him a second time, instructing him to the tormentum of the flesh without the recourse to pleonasms. She had dragged the Equestrian King in a new phase, where titles and epithets were pointless, where the ramifications of endless choices split up into equally numerous pathways. And she had done that with only a swing of her weapon.

    ''To think that someone like her existed. Leaving the pond, I can only be astonished at the boundlessness of the ocean.''

    To feel powerlessness in front of the peril, caressing the mortality of which he was only unconsciously cognizant, awakened an instinct that he had thought dormant, which instead had not yet reached the height of its potential.

    ''Is this how far I can go? The sky is preclosed to me¡­ Nevertheless¡­''

    The luminance of Darius'' currais had been engulfed by the swarthiness of that strange weapon, the silver of which adorned its refinements beamed with the shininess of the moonlight, conjoining with the ignominious black in the way the two same colors divided the halves of the elf.

    ''Is she smiling?''

    Surrender before the deal was close was uncharacteristic for him. The restraints that enchained him to the cruel ground were forsaken. The wings that sprouted on the sagittarius''s back emitted a gust that soon transmuted in a hurricane as Darius took flight upward, untethered by the bloody earth.

    He did not inquire why the elf had let him recede from her grip, nor inveigled his ego with unproofed safety.

    The sunlight, touching noon, was pressing, but appeasing at the same time. The balm of a potion regenerated the battered body as the soreness found a safe space from which never again to move in his memory.

    Drops of blood from his wound disappeared when they touched the soil.

    They turned stains that watered the earth.

    From there, Antilene looked even smaller. Yet, her presence was clear. Darius could sense it from the slight breeze that passed, from the baleful sonority of her pace.

    "Incredible," she said. "This is a new one! King of Centaurs, Emperor of the Plains, show this warrior what you got! Tell me your name!"

    "Darius."

    The Equestrian King locked in. Never Khvarenah was put to these extremes, for his reckoning. Never the Great Heaven had to show the full extent of his blessings to a stranger. The dragon of yore he had slain was old, vestigia of a world that was no more. She, instead, was young, like him a child born after the shattering of the old traditions and beliefs.

    He wanted to prove, both to himself and to her, that there was only a paradise waiting for them. The ancestors would bear witness to a new dawn, heralding a new age of prosperity under his rule.

    "¡ºShooting the hundred heads¡»!"

    Power surged to his hand, guiding the direction of his aim, as the Great Heaven covered the sky with a multitude of his shots. Sprawling out, they proliferated like the stars in the night before it had even cometh.

    They descended with the beauty of comets traveling through the atmosphere, deaf to the wishes of those who beseeched them.

    Soon, there was rain blessing the battlefield. From his high position, the Equestrian King carried on with the bombardment, without rest, uncaring of the increasing strain. Fatigue was an alien concept to him.

    But Darius did not linger in conceit, for he could sense the elf slithering in the bursts of the onslaught, evading every hit with such elegance, such impecuniousness, that it was no more mayhem theirs, but an exhibition of delightful ballet, a legerdemain to those who were to observe, for while it could have be seen as pestiferous from a staccato range, the watchers in the midst of all of it could have only judged it as masterpiece in the making, the final play of two friends who could communicate only in a predetermined pattern.

    The Equestrian King, sweating like he never had before, contemplated his doing, never having, for what he could remember, enjoyed himself so much. It was not the spirit of someone that yearned to protect, nor to demonstrate his worth. It was the relief in finally understanding to not be alone.

    Just as the stars aligned in conjunction with extraordinary events, it was a perhaps capricious, perhaps inscrutable fate that had led them to that place.

    If, on the other hand, it was the case, a mere sequence of fortuity devoid of a grand design that had resulted in their meeting, it was to be appreciated that infinitesimal possibility came true.

    ''But I am grateful.''

    He wondered if it was the same for her too.

    Maven was Antilene in the art of combat. In dodging, in parring, in directing the flow of the dance, she had no equal. No dallier in the harmony of her deeds, she directed the orchestra on that particular stage with impeccable grace. When the counter-attack started, the gloriole of a saint of war wrapped the foreboding balefulness of the fair elf.

    Her black scythe gashed the stardust carpet woven by Darius. The frequency of the outpouring dimmed as she fluttered on and off, not a single strike was missed, not a single arrow was left untouched by her carving, while she excised the same sky Darius had conquered from his presence.

    Such a magnificent body was the only defilade necessary to make a joke of a pathetic offensive, to transform in crestfallen who had not known defeat until her showing.

    "¡ºYazatas'' strike¡»!"

    After seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven arrows had capitulated, the vanes of the remaining shots turned in on themselves, concentrating their accumulated energy into spears of titanic might.

    Antilene strutted while they spinned around her, exceeding the restrictions of their kinetic force again and again. Lightning and thunderbolts were pouring out, shaping strands of alloyed gold, fussing in strife.

    Spates of a sudden forceful flow sharpened the penetration of their lunges, hurtling the intensity of their sparks, and, after releasing the hoard of amassed force, impinged on their target, in an attempt to hamper her escape.

    The elf did not surrender even a single step. Firm, the slash that collided with the first spear almost resonated like a jeer to the Equestrian King, as to imprint her statement in the ages: ''Here I am, standing, while you run away!''

    The glittering shards of diaphanous glare that followed furled in a pyre of brightness. The scythe''s darkness ravening on its counterpart could not capture every fragment of the gauze-life light, which fed the blue of the sky.

    Soo mesmerizing the spectacle, as dandelion buds unfurling their petals after blooming in a summer camp, that the entanglement of the remaining lances could almost be forgotten. A bucolic painting that had no place in the battleground, misplaced in that carnage.

    Antilene did not falter. Antilene did not embolden vain hopes. She merely replicated what she had already done. Cutting every edge that tried to impale such a dignified warrior, the elf clovened the onrush that befell upon her.

    A barrage was thwarted by accurate forays that did not waste not an ounce of opportunity, while another focused their punishment on the sides blades of the scythe, whose metal was illuminated, without consumption, by their effulgence.

    It was like admiring a divine chastisement that did not come true, but rather submitted to a will that was revealed to be above.

    The ravel of that formation had been accomplished with the simple gesture of her cut.

    Slashing the pure, concentrated thunderclaps, Antilene arrested the saturation of that furnace of power. Slitting the fundamental merger of the magic, severing the connection between Darius''s martial arts and its propellations, she alone surmounted the trials of tribulations. The particles transmitted by that impact dissolved in a storm of different colors, reminiscent of a dazzling rainbow.

    The shrill at the end the sibylline chorus of her divine sacrament, offering to the shrine of her divinity the proper offering.

    In a certain sense, her weapon was her lyre. Each cue the gentle, moderate tapping on the chords. Composing a coronach for the living, Antilene coalesced an omen for the joyful and a hope for the desperates.

    An euphony well befitting of a king!

    ''Show me more!''

    No more arrows. When he touched Khvarenah, the Equestrian King enkindled with a passion never experienced before. The string of the longbow became the forge where the fire gushed forth. ''When was the last time I had to resort to this?'' Unaware that ever was the answer, Darius abandoned the armaments of mortals. ''What I considered the skies were just plains!''

    Antilene was no daeva. Those were the demons that dispelled an unfinished project. Arrogantly, he had thought to be able to define what couldn''t be comprehended.

    Not from an abyss. Not to disturb their harmony she had reached their plain. Or maybe, since the start, it had been hers.

    She was something more.

    The sagittarius took one last look at the city that had remained behind him, turning one last thought to a loved one. ''Will we see each other again, Bessus?''

    Now the time to fight as Gods had come.

    "¡ºAsura¡»!"

    All remaining constraints were undone. Two additional arms sprouted by his sides as Darius unleashed one of his two aces, ripping the flesh apart in painful rebirth. Sucking on his vitality, that trump card took his physical capabilities beyond every boundary left, while an extreme sourness encroached his maw, slowing his breathing. Akin to tasting thousands of lemons simultaneously, that bitterness divulged in the throat, making the saliva tart and the perspiration wheezy.

    A cyclone of pent up energy was rumped, gathering near him. Dust and debris broke loose in a whirlwind.

    Irradiation of unpolluted electricity and flames amalgamated in a beam of incandescent fierceness. A wrawl of unknown origin roared in the heavens, as Darius'' woebegone cries echoed in the same tune.

    ''It will not be enough.''

    Darius had two trump cards.

    The first was the asura''s mode, a momentary transformation that augmented his prowess, in exchange for his life.

    The second¡­

    "What a wonderful display of martial arts," spreading her arms, the elf was ready to take the blow that Darius'' was preparing. "But that''s not all you can do, am I right? I am waiting, centaur of the sky. Will you be able to keep up with me?"

    Antilene''s saunter did not disturb the Equestrian King. She, like him, was waiting for the confrontation. A gentle invitation to put every resource at his disposal in that duel.

    He had to shew a great worth, if he wanted to stand next to her, as her equal.

    ''Take fly, ¡ºS¨©murgh¡»!''

    The necklace he wore on his neck adjusted to unheeded vibrations. Only a feather lit up with immensity. The cyan bird materialized behind him, summoned by the sacred relic, to take rest on his shoulder.

    His family called it ''the treasure that outpriced the world,'' and had first been guarded by the fire dragon, to then be claimed by Darius as the final act of his myth.

    The quills glowed with a greenness that irradiated everything their shine touched, the pennons of crystalline beauty consecrated the land at the rhythm of its singing while the piebald tail was flailing in the grip of an eager esthesis, expressing a paragon of immortality.

    From the gilded, pointed beak came a sweet -but unripe- fruit, that Darius ate quickly, getting fed by the bird itself. The amber juice slobbered through all muscles and fur, bathing his figure in spangled liquid. Weariness disappeared as every flavor flooded his mouth, and a new found vigor took hold.

    Then came a second fruit, identical to the first. The Equestrian King could sense the world getting clear, as if a veil had been lifted from his gaze and every deep secret unearthed. The intricate mechanisms that linked the soul with the body became coherent in a pattern that extrapolated every frailty, every weakness.

    Every hit would now be fatal.

    Last fruit was consumed in the same manner. Darius felt nothingness. A solace in the void. No wisdom, no learnedness. No fear, no pride. His mind was a blank slate, in anticipation of being able to write in it whatever he wished.

    Then S¨©murgh was no more.

    ''Here I come.''

    Darius shot.

    Antilene engrafted her scythe on the ground.

    The impingement rumbled the earth. Goodly earthquakes tattered the field of battle, disrupting the last semblance of peace, sanking teutonic scabs in the abyss.

    And yet, the elf was there. Her weapon unmoved.

    While the crutch leveled the soil, sprouting white-hot magma at her feet, she could not be forced to move. The grip remained firm on the handle, as the increase of pressure did not falter her position. Blades of dark rejected the dominance of the Equestrian King.

    Antilene plod forward, gaining a little inch after another. Around her, everything erupted in a miasma of unadulterated chaos, waves of orange-like scintillation glistened as the cockcrow pleased twice on the same day.

    She was fighting for that inch, while all crumbled near her. She was gaining that inch, while all was going down to hell. She was walking miles, as Darius could only observe.

    Then the elf decided it was enough. Enforcing her posture, she repulsed Darius'' bullet, reprieving the maelstrom that ravaged the land.

    Wielding the scythe, veering on herself with a pirouette, with only a clean cut of the central blade, she separated the ligaments of esthesia. Locating the crux at the base of magic, the confine between incantations, martial arts and miracle blurred in syncretism, as the elf and the elf alone dissevered the shot.

    Without anything to collide, that concentrated heat first collapsed on itself, to proceed to billow in a tsunami of havoc, seeking where to release the last bits of impetus.

    As the remaining energy scattered in multiple directions, Darius contemplated his inferiority. ''This is another dimension altogether.'' If that had been a contest, unquestionably would be the triumphalist.

    But victory was another thing.

    Antilene had been brushed by one of the flame flakes on the cheek.

    A stream of a familiar liquid stained her skin. A liquid that turned the white carmine.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    ''When has it been last time?''

    Antilene almost didn''t remember.

    The last time she bled. The last time she could almost visualize defeat.

    ''If death is to be forgotten, he still lives.''

    Decem Hougan had not faded yet.

    ''But I am Fouche, not Hougan.''

    Not had Faine.

    In some way, they both preen their daughter''s soul. Always with her. As parents should have. Her revenge, perhaps, would never be fully realized.

    ''Why am I continuing with this farce?'' With her thumb, she wiped the dripping blood off. ''I also want to be forgotten and still¡­''

    No asking for eternity, no pleading for mercy, the girl continued to fight. She was not content with ephemeral triumph, for she was in search of something that not even she understood. Faced with an easy glory, the maiden''s resplendence illustrated its valiance as the results of the blows she had been inferred.

    ''The goal of all life is death¡­''

    Surshana''s ultimate skill. But what did it really mean? Antilene had interrogated herself with those worlds for all her existence.

    The Goal of all life is death¡­

    The last words of a God that was Death, and that was no more. The last words that were now hers. The transient nature of life that revealed its true meaning only in its last moments?

    ''As if¡­''

    The Goal Of all life is death. Her moniker. Zesshi Zetsumei. Certain Death. For Death was a constant, an inescapable truth. But that was all there was? Death was mercy, Death was gentleness. Death could be assuasive in its certainty. But was all there was?

    Was Death alone?

    The God of Death was not alone. With him, walked the God of Life.

    The next shafts divided in an array of garish net of brilliance, anon trammeling her in a breath-taking fireworks performance, fanned in colors as the peacock''s tail and weld by waning volcanic cinders, in the sullen afternoon that was approaching.

    Darting in the narrow spaces necessary to elude the Equestrian King''s battery, Antilene expanded the ken of what was ahead of her. Asunder each shot, each cut. She scud in the violent commotion, relieving in the inviolable sanctity of her mission. One-hundred thousands she counted and one-hundred thousand she pushed back, subjugating the dire expectations to her will.

    She could find, undergoing that probation, abeyance to her turmoil. The inner enigma of asperity was augur to what was next to come. After all, fervid prosperity was the next stage in the cycle of timeless existence, after indiscriminate extermination.

    Repeating every action, like she was now doing, solace could be finally obtained. The sufferings of mankind had been plotted to reach that moment. And Antilene, as their guardian, as their embodied hope, would continue to watch over their dreams.

    That was her task. Ungrateful. Ruthless. No one would say a simple ''thank you'' to her. No one would have commended the half-elf for such a sacrifice. They would have hated her instead. Despised her because she kept reminding them how small they were.

    It didn''t matter.

    Surshana and Alaf were different sides of the same coins.

    Beyond them, there was her. Unknown to Death, not known to Life.

    ''Life with Death is precious. Death without life is nothingness.''

    Antilene hated Darius, for he was not a human. For he was an enemy of humankind. To repudiate his existence was the only path she could take.

    The Goal Of All life is death.

    It was not the intermingling of two concepts that gave meaning in function of the other. Nor was it something more. Nor was it something less.

    The sagittarius now soaring in the sky, swaying in the Heaven of which he had appropriated, was giving his all to be recognized by her.

    Even though they despised each other. Even though they were enemies.

    He had called her Daeva, for that was his definition of a demon, of a fiend. And had nominated himself Asura, for that must have been the idea of an angel, of a savior.

    Likewise, she had titled him monster, and affixed him as a beast to slay. Not so different after all.

    Woe to the vanquished. Victory would have separated them.

    The Goal Of All Life is death.

    She had been correct. Someone like him could not keep walking that earth.

    As Antilene confronted another discharge, an all-round assail, blocking with Charon''s Guidance every unload that attempted to pass her defense in search of an opening, the strident clatter had almost the comfort of a silent peace. Steeping in a focus devoid of external stimulus, she would not let through even the smallest glimmer, catching with the scythe every attack before it could detonate.

    Another rattling targeting her released from above, propelling Antilene to blitz in the flood of miasmal, avoiding with care the now forming mire at her feet. If not for a small scratch that creased her left side, scrapping the cold metal of the armor and almost touching her innards, she would have left unscathed.

    ''Another crit,'' she thought, arousing at the situation, casting a healing spell. ''Every hit has been like this since he ate those strange fruits. Something like our sacred relic? I smell danger, and yet I am not distressed.'' All of a sudden, she felt a little more human. ''I could die, and I am at peace.''

    Everything was moving along to her calculations, in accordance to her estimations. Each piece of the chessboard advanced as she had anticipated.

    Darius flew up to her, still continuing with his firing. The centaur glided in concord with the heaven he had reclaimed, repeating every iteration of his offensive with newfound volume, thrall of an unsung ecstasy.

    Loathsome rain scended to the cursed ground, coupled by a ringing symphony that was so reminiscent of a concert of loud trumpets. The lull azure devolved in fiery red.

    Like her, he was trying to touch a never ending sky. Torn between heaven and earth¡­ incomplete on both. Raptured only in battle.

    Antilene blocked the drops of tuff, while the environment started to change in a vision of flames, mutating the lush grass in lava and magma. Will-o''-the-wisps waylay to change the land in a grave, expecting the half-elf to be the undertaker of that outrage.

    The Goal Of All Life Is death.

    Why not use it? Everything would have ended in a heartbeat. Someone would have called it folly.

    Yet, for the girl it was not such.

    ''I want to prove that I am something more. I want to prove that Heran is not Hougan. Fouche doesn''t rhyme with Faine. Antilene is herself. Antilene will forget.''

    Six-hundred years ago, the Six Great Gods brought salvation to a desperate humanity.

    Five-hundred years ago, the Eight Greed Kings wrought devastation on the world.

    The Goal Of All Life Is Death.

    She could concede Darius a death that would shine. To Live well was to eat well. To Live well was to sleep well. To Live well was to learn well. To Live well was to Die well. To Die good was to Live good. That could not change.

    No matter how monstrous the adversary. No matter how dangerous their powers were.

    ''They will all fall, eventually.''

    The half-elf jerked as her view set on him. The four arms of the sagittarius converged to the magnificent bow, tracing a circle on the string, eliciting the last strands of blazes. A spate of polluted incandescence inflamed to the decree of its master.

    The sightway enkindled with disruptive merciless, the infernal clamor blaring the horizon, betoken the of the befoulment that was to come. The temperature was rising over and over, churning the heat to the maximum.

    ''Now.''

    Antilene unfurled Charon''s Guidance. But this time, the scythe did not meet with the Equestrian King''s hit. Instead, the half-elf tapped the leg under her with as much power as she could muster. Rupture''s disturbances muted all noises, hushed the jittery chimes, subduing the chthonic masters. The world below began to crumble into innumerable small pieces, as pillars of ground bemired, arising as a barrier.

    Just as the Earth God was said to have moved the continents to shape the world in the primordial broth, Antilene was able to experience, to a small degree, that sensation of undoing and bending things to her dominion, which skyrocketed her elation to the uttermost frenzy.

    The half-elf created a destiny for herself, not waiting for the sky to be attainable for her.

    Rivers of rocks poured in after the collision, and tremors and quakes spread to the four winds. But a heave of stones, after reaching the climax, relentlessly had begun its fall, shedding light, however, on the course to be pursued. Antilene began to rush up the increasingly rapidly capitulating declivity, pursued by the Equestrian King''s projectiles.

    Reaching the very top, she could even catch the voice of the sagittarius, who flew a short distance away from her.

    "Impressive, but your race ends here."

    "Not yet," she said, jumping in the void.

    Swerving while still suspended, Antilene prepared Charon''s Guidance. With one terrifying movement of her body, she penetrated the center of the flaming arrows that had caught up with her, triggering a chain reaction that hit the half-elf in full force.

    From the chroma burst, she emerged unhurt.

    "What?" Darius stood in disbelief and amazement.

    The gained propulsion made her jerk. Regaining control, Antilene could see how little space separated her from her target. How insignificant that gap now was.

    "You''ll never make it." Darius made to move, attempting to run away from her. His wings were already flapping, uplifting a gust of wind.

    Antilene activated the weapon she had kept in reserve for that occasion. One of the rings she wore shone with a dim light, activating the spell concealed within it.

    "¡ºFly¡»."

    A dull and trivial spell, which if activated at first would never have allowed her to bridge the distance between them. Yet at that moment she couldn''t have asked for more.

    Antilene quivered in the air going through the starway aligned to her victory, feeling herself in control of her destiny, towering over the Equestrian King himself.

    She did not need a reason for what she accomplished. She did not need an explanation for who she was. Antilene Heran Fouche still had lots of places she wanted to go, lots of people she wanted to meet, lots of food she wanted to taste.

    To live full was to not preclude experiences, and to die peaceful was to accept regrets. One''s existence had to go beyond life and death to embrace serenity.

    The scythe gradually began to descend, as did the half-elf.

    "Incredible," shouted Darius, while she could already feel his breath. "Truly incredible! I Darius declare you the strongest!"

    The only remark she had while stabbing one of his wings was: "I shared the same view as you, contemplating the peak of your world, and realized how small it really is." Her arms inundated with pent up force as she chopped the organs, minced the muscles and tore apart the connections.

    Darius could only totter in search of equilibrium, putting his arms as a barrier against the half-elf.

    Slicing that additional appendix, Antilene proceeded to replicate with the next one. Darius could not defend himself against her assault, forced to helplessly gawk as each limb was ripped from him.

    While gravity attracted the Equestrian King, she finally aimed for his hearth.

    "It''s over. I will give you a proper death."

    "Let me borrow what you said: not yet."

    From the nearby bow, Darius concentrated on his last resort. Antilene swore she could sense wrath aroused against her from the pearls that adorned the ends of that weapon.

    As everything around them grew hazy, she realized what those teal orbs really were: vile eyes. Vile eyes that life had relinquished, long left. A neverending grudge feeding a vexing hate was the last trace that still lingered.

    Enchanting the world in darkness in a sickening curse, the half-elf could almost hear them laughing.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    They both precipitated.

    The curtain of smoke cleared as Antilene was able to stand up. She still had Charon''s Guidance gripped in her hands, while her opponent...

    Darius had taken much more damage than she had, although it had been his own attack. The proud Equestrian King had his armor almost melted away and his mantle so fair was covered with burns and scorch marks, blotches of tattered metal covering the burned skin.

    Of the four arms only two survived, of these no one held the bow, flung only the Gods knew where.

    "I am waiting." He was reduced to a pitiful state, but that did not mean he gave up his dignity. Upholding his convictions, he would not die with the head bowed. "You''re not going to let me go anyway, are you? Let''s get it over with, then."

    "Aren''t you going to try to retrieve your bow?"

    "For what purpose?"

    They both laughed.

    "It was fun," he said, at least. "Even though my aspiration doomed everything I seized, I am glad I dreamt. I only regret that it ended so soon."

    "What was your dream?" Antilene asked.

    "To reunite what was the Empire of my ancestors to its original state. If I was blessed with this body, I thought, there had to be a reason, a purpose. This is the only one I could find. Call me stupid."

    "I won''t. Who were your ancestors?"

    "I don''t know. They conquered the world, and then they lost it. This legacy was everything I was born with."

    "Like everyone," she drew the scythe close to his chest. "If they will be able to stay in their place, your people will be fine."

    "It doesn''t matter anymore. Still, I am glad. Tell me, what do you do when the dream ends?"

    "There''s waking up," Antilene pierced his heart with a single, delicate gesture, etching her title as the strongest in those ravaged plains. "And then living for the next day, waiting for the night to come, to dream again."

    So the Equestrian King died, standing with his head turned toward the sky he had only been able to brush past, never getting close to it.

    The half-elf stripped him of his equipment, finding S¨©murgh''s pendant on his corpse and the divine bow Khvarenah not far away. Upon contact with them, she acquired a new truth.

    ''The Eight¡­''

    Then she chopped off the centaur''s head, arranged what remained in as decorous a pose as possible, and burned it. As the ashes scattered away she recited a short prayer, no more than a handful of words.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Antilene returned to Mirina when she was finished. The Dark Knight greeted her with loaded relief in her face.

    "Lady Fouche... It means that..." Looking at the trophies the half-elf carried, hesitations were promptly dispelled.

    "Did you have doubts?" She had a cup of water handed to her and quenched the thirst with a single sip.

    Outside, in the makeshift camp already reduced to ruins, where last anointings were being given with haste, and comrades were being buried with more rush, the air was mournful and despondent, despite the victory. Confused whispers and religious litanies uttered more to prevent stillness from advancing, rather than out of a necessary need.

    Then, Antilene looked around. In the tent there were two bodies resting on makeshift cots. One was of Prince Alexander, the other of the minotaur Niles.

    A young boy was tending the minotaur''s wounds as much as he could, unconcerned to sweat and exhaustion.

    The Dark Knight, noticing the half-elf staring, uttered with brief melancholy.

    "All the most capable divine casters perished almost immediately, and we don''t have adequate potions. If we don''t take him to at least someone capable of casting heal magic I don''t know if he..."

    Antilene didn''t say anything, continuing to scan the unconscious demihuman.

    Mirina continued to speak. "General Chazos had arranged for a handful of all the most capable survivors to come to your aid. He was personally leading the charge."

    "They must have been wiped out." Antilene did not remember seeing any other protagonists in the clash, but it was still true that her attention was elsewhere. Maybe they had simply fled. "Not that it matters."

    The Dark Knight ducked down. "No, it doesn''t."

    "You," the half-elf turned to the small boy, who trembled like a twig at the mere acknowledgement of his presence. "Go find me a suitable box to put this in," and she lifted what was left of the Equestrian King.

    He shivered, gulped, but carried out the order, rushing out promptly.

    "A good boy. His name is¡­"

    Antilene stopped Mirina before she could continue further. "I will forget anyway. The important thing is that he is loyal to you." The half-elf felt a pang to her chest in being so harsh, but she knew she could not take chances. "The Minotaur, Sir Niles. Kill him."

    The Dark Knight''s eyelids closed and opened in a rapid spasm, disbelief brightening the amethyst light that faintly shined in her eyes. "Can you... Can you repeat that?"

    "The minotaur. If left in this condition, he will survive, albeit a bit battered," Mirina''s reprieve was destined to not last long, Antilene considered, as she uttered what ought to be done. "You must not allow that. Kill him now."

    That was the difficult part. Not so much about ending Niles'' existence, but rather how Mirina''s gratitude had turned into something Antilene had been all too familiar with.

    A second could last a century, and a century could pass in a second. In that particular occurrence, it was the former.

    "I am sorry. I can''t do this."

    "Then I will kill you. I will kill him. And everyone that survived."

    "But¡­ why?"

    "Now that the Equestrian King is dead, someone will have to take credit for it. And it will not be me," she explained calmly. "That someone will be you. The Dark Knight, the hero worshiped in this region, will be celebrated once again from the masses. But that is not all. Where the demihumans failed, it was a human woman that prevailed against the invader. Not a minotaur, nor an elf. You. This will be mankind''s victory, and will inspire generations of warriors to come to follow you. At the same time, the influence of the nonhumans will start to fade, little by little. Niles and his band could do nothing, and nothing they achieved. So much for humans'' inferiority."

    "It won''t go like that," Mirina retorted, desperately looking for flaws in that argument. "It will not be so easy to decrease the influence of other species. And even then, it will take decades before we see any concrete results¡­" Her gaze transfixed when it crossed Antilene''s.

    "I can wait," replied Antilene, in an attempt to sound diplomatic. Sighing, she spoke as smoothly as she could. "Should Niles survive a confrontation with the Equestrian King, the people will not only continue to believe that he played a decisive part in his defeat, but will also begin to diminish your contribution. If he were to disappear, some might think it was not entirely due to you the final result, but that will be easy rumors to put to rest with your word and the help of someone else you already know. At most, you could claim that he lent you a hand in the victory if you wish. Humility is always seen as a sign of a greater truth. I don''t really care. But if you refuse, I will be forced to kill him myself..."

    Mirina''s grip on the sword became firmer. Antilene hoped that it was not stupidity that had inspired that reaction. "And I can never know that you will stick to my story. To avoid any open-end I will be forced to silence you. And with you, everyone who has seen you healthy until just now."

    "And if I were to do as you say, what makes you think I will not tell the truth anyway?"

    So simple. Like reciting a script. No less detestable, though.

    "Because there is someone you want to protect, and you will not risk her sake for idealism. Someone close to you, that would not benefit from a possible civil war caused by your actions. Tell the truth, I dare you. Tell that you killed someone under the orders of a foreigner''s influence, and see what you will gain. Love can rot even the gentlest soul, didn''t you know?"

    Mirina averted her sight, defeated. "I am no match for you, Lady Fouche."

    "I hope you will not hate me for this."

    Some argued that friends were the Gods'' way of caring for their children. Perhaps, for the first time, Antilene doubted their existence.

    "You saved Kista. I could never hate you," the minotaur''s breathing was irregular, but still firm. "But I can not love you either." And then it was no more.

 Chapter 57: Epilogue on these wretched plains

    Chapter 57

    Epilogue on these wretched plains

    When they arrived at the doors of Orcleans, only a small delegation was waiting for them.

    Antilene, covered in the Union''s armor from head to toes, observed Mirina met with a centaur cloaked in plain wool. With him, two guards as an escort, spears in sight, shields in the back. On their faces the fear and unrest were apparent.

    An elf whose skin was blue as the sea and as dark as the abysses that dwelled in it was there to accompany them.

    ''A sea elf,'' realized Antilene. Sea elves¡­ that was what the Theocracy called them, but it was an improper term. Surely, he would have addressed his people a noble name, a name ancient and worthy of respect. ''The elves of Evasha have lost their names. Their identity. Wood elves, they are called by us. Father stripped them of even a name.''

    Logem, Agravaine, Melody, Etienne¡­ They were not the elves of Slaine, of Baharuth, of Re-Estize. But Hougan was no more, and maybe they could have returned to be something else. Something different. ''Evasha elves sounds better than wood elves.''

    As she observed the elf that smelled of saltiness and moved on the ground with the clumsiness of an albatross on a ship too small for his wings, the half-elf had the impression she''d come in contact with that intense scent once before. The scent of the coast of Orcneas, impregnated with seaweed and sand.

    The leader of the centaur had him come next to him, whispering something only for them to hear. Then, with a small gesture of his right hand, gave a signal to proceed.

    The Dark Knight approached the delegation, the sword of rot stowed in the scabbard, one hand resting on it, as to make clear what a possible epilogue to that matter could be, while the other delivered to the representative of the plains a small package, unadorned.

    "My name is Bessus, satrap of the Plains Empire, close confidant of the Shah, dear friend to Darius the first," the centaur introduced himself simply, with little readiness. All the ceremonies of the occasion were ditched, the weariness unmasked by only a simple question. "Is it true? Was what your messenger reported to us true?"

    Protocol would have dictated for him to inquire about Mirina''s role, the ones she represented and the ones she did not. Instead, his voice, broken by a labored breath that had lost its vigor, could muster only that single question.

    "I am the Dark Knight of the Union City State Alliance, acting in lieu of the twelve voices that lead our nation, in substitution of Prince Alexander Arrideo Hephaistion Argades of the city of Karnasus, with the approval of the supreme council of Ris, my homeland, and the consoil of the mayor of Bebard, the first general of Beppo Allo, the guild confederation of Franklin¡­"

    Mirina took to rattling off a whole series of charges and formalities, heedless of the lack of attention paid to her by her interlocutor. A way to have him on the ropes, uncaring of his uneasiness. She paused at the end, weighing well how to proceed. "I only lack at the moment the approval of the magistrate of Orcleans. Your Excellency Mussel, forgive the inconvenience of the situation, may I have your approval right now?"

    "You have my approval," confirmed the sea elf. In getting close, Antilene could notice the marks of captivity on his wrists. Barely noticeable. The handcuffs must have been lifted recently, and there were no other traces of restraint.

    "Many thanks, Your Excellency. I apologize for the inconvenience." Mirina bowed respectfully to Mussel.

    The magistrate was prompt to have her raise from that position.

    "No apologies needed. I am the one who needs to thank you, truly."

    "I only fulfilled my duty."

    When she was done, the Dark Knight finally placed the package in the hands of the centaur.

    "I am Mirina Crocdabal," she proclaimed solemnly, following the direction of Antilene''s suggestions. The etch of diction was impeccable, but tainted by some insecurity that even a theater master couldn''t stifle, no matter how many hundreds of years granted. The satrap, as a court animal, could have grasped it, and maybe he did. Still, every reaction of his was overlaid by something more earthly and common. "Last descendant of the Thirteen, I was the last one to meet in combat your king. The result of the confrontation lies in the package I am giving you. Open it, and then answer my question. The question of the twelve: ''will you keep fighting, or will you leave these lands''?"

    Bessus''s fingers felt the top of the box, slowly. A few seconds were devoted only to assaying the hardness of the oak wood and the rough work of packing, as if that useless act could have delayed, by a short while, by a very short while, what awaited him. With equal insecurity, at least he opened it, carefully observing its contents.

    The face, which until just before was furrowed with that mixture of sadness and apprehension, suddenly lifted, forgoing melancholy for something far deeper. His eyes, which were wet with barely held back tears, dried, giving the feeling that they had already given enough.

    Under Antilene''s instructions, the head of the Equestrian King had been preserved with some incantations, so as to maintain a resemblance of vitality. The cheeks still retained some pinkish colors, and the beard had been tended with the utmost care allowed by the circumstances. The lips still closed in a dignified and thin line, accepting the last moments of his destiny.

    For the half-elf, who was the one that had put those remains in there, that expression of quiet acceptance engraved in his last instants was preserved even after death.

    "I am waiting," Mirina could not allow mourning, not on that occasion. Coldhearted, she had to be, as Antilene instructed her. The Dark Knight urged for what she wanted. "Your answer. And remember¡­ Remember well. What happened to your king could also happen to you."

    Antilene took a step forward. For a second she wondered what would happen. If she was to liberate the city, the priority would be to strike the harbor, to prevent the Great Plains troops from escaping. If the satrap and his people had to react at that precise moment, instead, the only unknown was to ensure the safety of the magistrate.

    A fleeting glance was exchanged with Mirina. The Dark Knight had lifted the hand from the sheet, in sign of good faith, but still retained it close to unfasten Crocdabal if necessary.

    Bessus, however, showed how unnecessary were those apprehensions.

    "I understand," he said, carefully closing the package, posing it close to his chest, in an improper display of vulnerability. The guards at his side took it from his hands, after the centaur was done, and enclosed it in a silk, cremisi drap. "I can only guarantee for the tribe of the centaurs. The Equestrian King had no heir. With him and one of the satrap missing dire times await our Plains."

    "The remains of satrap Tiribazus are in our care. We will have them delivered to you in sign of good faith," replied Mirina. "For what it regards your internal affairs, that is not of our concern. I will advise you to enter into a non-aggression treaty with the Union as soon as possible to determine the terms of surrender, or the tributes that will be demanded could be exacted."

    "I''ll do my best to guarantee a peaceful transition. In the meantime, can you let us leave without being disturbed?"

    "This will be to magister Mussel to decide. Orcleans returns to his governance as of now."

    The sea elf, without giving too much consideration to his newfound position, addressed the satrap without concealing animosity. "Take your soldiers and set sail, before I will have all of them in chains. Maybe this would make you understand what it means to live under the yoke of the invader, but luckily for you, I do not covet revenge. Do we share the same view?"

    Had he wielded a sword or another weapon, maybe it would have turned different. The pride in his gaze was not for having regained freedom, but rather for not having broken under captivity.

    "It is," Bessus started to turn around, followed by his guards, directed to the now open gates of the city. "You will get news of me as soon as I return home, Dark Knight. Let me express my gratitude for not having spilled unnecessary blood one more time."

    "You could have expressed it from the start," retorted Mirina, unfazed by that worthless respect. "Many have died. And it is too late to bring them back."

    "There is wisdom in what you say. That doesn''t make it completely correct though."

    As the centaur was getting away, Antilene stopped him.

    "Ehi! Be happy that you still live."

    The satrap halted. Even if he wasn''t watching her, the half-elf could sense the sadness erupting from him, like glowing fire. Antilene, who expressed only indifference at their turmoils, disdain at their existence, could almost experience a pang in her chest.

    "Happy?" He asked. "Happy?" He repeated, with the hopelessness of the defeated. "You have robbed my sky of its colors. Stripped the future of every light and shine. That isn''t a sentiment I can own anymore." He did not deign to see her in tears, for a satrap did not weep and so should remain, until the end. A satrap had to remain stoic, even if Bessus could not. "Happiness, you demand of me? The thief doesn''t taunt the one who had its treasures stolen with his prizes."

    "You have painted gray the same skies you now regret," Antilene said, not being able to express pity. Not for him. "Answer me this: were your king to unite every race under his heaven, slaughtering and conquering to shape his paradise, what next? Would it have been his rule just until the end of eternity? A present of suffering for an eternity of peace. Is that a good exchange? What do you know of eternity?"

    Mortals defined their love as such, their faith unmoving in kind, imprinting their passage with the dim hope of immortality, while not comprehending the true meaning of infinite. For what today was tyranny tomorrow could be freedom, and who was called hero would be called villain with the passing of ages.

    Antilene could understand the centaurs of the Great Plains, as she fell like them in that inherent contradiction. The only difference was in being aware of it.

    But Bessus had no answer for her.

    "It''s enough, Lady Fouche," Mirina whispered to her ear. "He is gone. It''s over."

    "May he ponder, then. Perhaps we will meet again, and he will have something to grant me then. Something worth of this silence."

    The half-elf followed the Dark Knight in the return. No speech was uttered in the trip, no festivity held for the survivors. Days passed, as they always had and always will.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The Square of the Black Blade, central point of the city of Karnasus, was now quiet. State funerals to mourn all the victims of the war were held, causing every shop and activity to be closed for the commemoration.

    There were no official reports yet. For many, each day could be a waiting, a hope. For others only the confirmation of something long overdue, no less painful in its certainty. For every meeting, a parting.

    Where life and moving forward was celebrated, now something different was being renewed. Victory, perhaps? Some of the passerby were telling themselves yes, amid the subdued, hushed murmurs, spoken with respect for those who had returned, and for those who would not.

    They almost gave the impression of not wanting to burst into feelings of joy, out of worries that the noise might make them wake up from the dream of an ended war.

    ''Could do with more noise. It''s almost like taking part in a celebration in one of the Cathedrals of Silksuntecks,'' but without choirs and invocations to preachers, angels and Gods.

    Apparently, such an occurrence was repeated in each of the Union territories. Was the same silence shared by everyone, no matter status, ranks or belief?

    Some familiar pamphlets roamed the city. They told a tale of courage and heroism, about how a black knight and a prince had defied fate and death, triumphing in the end. What happened to them¡­ That was another story, for another day.

    Antilene looked around and thought, thought about what she had accomplished, and what she would do again. She thought of big things, small things. She thought of the perfume of flowers, simple and delicate. She thought of the sad faces, who had lost everything, or perhaps never had something to call theirs in the first place.

    She thought of some bards performing fancy songs, gathering small crowds in religious attention to the new stories being written, just then. Would the pens, the voices, have changed history yet?

    She thought of some groups of adventurers and soldiers who, with the inns closed, had brought with them something to forget. With strong wine, there would be merriment in dire agony and, in a not so distant future, they would bring the shadow of a smile into the arms of death.

    ''What a bore.''

    "Our meeting said we wouldn''t have to wait for much," she addressed the man next to her, but not close enough to share the same line of view of the half-elf. "What about Agravaine and the rest of our small entourage? Did they return home?"

    Her half-sister had preceded them, direct straight to Evasha. Even if no other accident had happened yet, there was the need of someone managing things until their return, and guide the sparse elves in case of danger.

    "Yes. She and the servants were displeased to not give the proper farewells," Logem came closer, just enough so that Antilene could feel short in comparison with him. Tall, watchful, he moved circumspectly in that open space as if he were still in the midst of the foliage. A ranger at ease in a forest of cold stone. "Will we return straight to the forest after? Or is somewhere else you wish to go?"

    On the neck, a shiver of cold surged with bothersome intensity, prompting Antilene to gasp at that unexpected reaction. She touched the spoil of her last duel, caressing the emerald feather. "No, first I have something else I need to do. The bow I won¡­ are you sure?"

    "Of sure there is only death," her half-brother responded steadfastly. "But the crafting of the Equestrian King''s weapon has more than one thing in common with the one I have with me¡­ The one that was father''s. There are also points of contact with equipment I have used in the past. The materials that make it up are not of this world."

    Coincidences did not exist. And if the Gods played dice, then they could have made thirteen with only two of them.

    "I saw eight figures cloaked in shadow. Eight figures, and one of them, from the little I saw, resembled him. The point ears do not tell lies," she touched what her hair concealed, but did not change. "The Eight are no more. So it would be more correct to say that father¡­" Antilene had always considered herself a child of two worlds. That of men, and that of elves. But she never imagined that such truth concealed another larger and more frightening reality within it. "If the hypothesis is correct, what makes me?"

    There were some stories, which started from that premise. The protagonist rediscovered himself as the son or heir of a king, of a hero, and accepted the fate that destiny had arranged for him, chasing away the doubts that had matured from a previous condition of freedom.

    She was in the phase of doubts and, little by little, felt more like a monster. A legacy forged in devastation, a story of protection morphed in one of betrayal. Not the daughter of Surshana, but the child of those who had slayed him.

    "Antilene Heran Fouche, what else?"

    Logem was trying to say to her that he was Logem, not Logem Hougan, as Antilene was Heran and was Fouche. Could a family name not dictate your self?

    "You are right¡­" Both had to look away from each other in embarrassment. Until a few days prior, Antilene had judged it impossible for her half-brother''s cheeks to turn red. The world was spinning in unexpected ways. "In any case, I hope you understand why I cannot come back again. It may sound like an apology, but there is still much we need to find out. And it may be related to the five fingers..."

    It was imperative to discuss this with Rufus and the Cardinals before studying the next move. Although part of her harbored uncertainties, it was by finding advice from those wiser than her that she could gain insight.

    "You don''t have to justify with me." The elf did not indulge in objections or too much chatter. An appreciable quality. His following remark was a simple consequence of plain observation. "It''s impressive, isn''t it?" One eye, and nothing that escaped him. On the other hand, that trait was also irritating at times.

    "I guess there is worse around."

    Antilene observed absent-mindedly the Dark Knight monument, hollowed out in pitch-black ore, shining with platinum gleams. The dark hero looked upward, each of his swords placed at his feet.

    The half-elf couldn''t help to notice how Crocdabal''s replica was different from the relic wielded by Mirina. The hilt, like the carved helmet and armor, was marked with demonic symbols and incomprehensible formulas, perhaps meant to represent, by some tawdry belief, the devilish arts ascribed to the hero of the legend.

    It was natural to wonder if the current Dark Knight had ever paid attention to it, or if she had called poetic license for what was only a representation uncoupled from factuality.

    At the base, a marble tablet placed nearby bearing a terse inscription recited:

    ''Here the hero gave up his love.''

    A multitude of different flowers leaning against the base accompanied still burning tapers, the last flames gradually dying down, and sheets with inscriptions characterized by the diversity of language and handwriting.

    ''Names,'' Antilene tried to read them, not without a lot of difficulty. ''Families, of different races and cultures. Accumulated by a single thing. Your gaze is not downward, toward them. You look upward, Dark Knight. But what did you see? Were you noticing the prayers of those below you?''

    As was to be expected, the statue alone could not satisfy the half-elf''s curiosity.

    "How was he?" She asked Logem, a few feet from her. "The Dark Knight, I mean. You were companions, weren''t you? Was he really a demonkind like it is told?"

    Logem had confided little about his past to Antilene upon her return. The Equestrian King''s bow had invited him to share some details that connected him to the relics of the Eight.

    And now the elf, only surviving member of the thirteen for what she was aware, was prompt in his response. "An idiot."

    A long pause, to let that statement sink in the conversation.

    "Not what I had expected," Antilene raised an eyebrow, reflecting on the posture of her half-brother. Stern, as if the concept of relaxation was something familiar to him only in fables. "There is something else?"

    "Yes," Logem''s expression was unchanged, but in his scarlet eye could be glimpsed the reminiscence of something soft, uncharacteristic for the usual intensity that emitted. "He was an idiot, as I said. Always going straight to the risk when someone was in danger, without thinking, without following orders. Cloyingly chivalrous, ready to protect innocents and lay down his life as a shield for the humble. A headache for me and many others. But our leader loved him as a brother¡­"

    "And you?"

    Once again, there was no pause, nor hesitation. "I also loved him as such. Or more." There was a remembrance of kindness, in his tone. The same fleeting tenderness that accompanied Antilene when the vivid image of her late companions lit up once again with gentle nostalgia. "Those you refer to as the thirteen, and who not just thirteen were, forged a brotherhood in arms. Different, all of us. Yet the same, for what we strived for. The accomplishment of one was the accomplishment of all. The majority of them are buried now. My brothers and sisters will continue to be revered for centuries, becoming something more. A legend to share by the familiar hearth as the cold winter advances. A tale to warm desolate hearts, and inspire those to come. But, in time, their memory will also fade."

    There was something in that final sentence that was not easy to define... A familiar regret, which the passage of years accentuated rather than diminished. That, however, did not encapsulate everything.

    Logem looked at the statue; the shadow of a smile breaking through a subdued, tepid happiness. "I like to think that this is why our lives are blessed with this vast longevity. More than fighters, warriors, wizards and priests, we elves are chroniclers. We continue to live, so that the stories of those we have loved can continue to be passed on in their wonderful wholeness, without omitting the beauty or ugliness."

    To witness the ones you cherished slowly grow old, while seeing the never-changing image of you in the mirror. Without wrinkles, without fatigue. To see them getting weaker, day after day, without being able to do anything for them. And, above all, seeing them accept this. Realizing that in that little time, it was possible to create their own destiny, their own bliss.

    The curse of the elves was the curse of eternity. In an eternity, one could live countless lives, not only their own. And, perhaps, that was their purpose. To make eternal what eternal was not.

    "You are amazingly chatty today," joked Antilene. A soft chuckle echoed in a melodic rhythm. "Should I be worried?"

    "Sometimes, a few words are enough. Others, we can only express ourselves in long speeches," the elf cleared his throat with a cough. "Besides, I think I''ve always been a great conversationalist?"

    "Are you being ironic?"

    "What is irony?"

    "In the name of Surshana''s long and crispy beard, are you kidding me?"

    Satisfaction showed on the elf''s face, equal to that which could be achieved by stuffing five different kinds of cakes into his mouth at the same time.

    "Yes. I fondly engaged in what you youngsters call ''a prank''."

    Antilene felt the cold caress of death for the first time.

    "...I see."

    A smirk was allowed, only to her, for just a bunch of seconds, before Logem could return to his stoneface. "Returning to the topic, I don''t know if the Dark Knight was really a demon or a fiend. He never confirmed or denied it. I can tell you that these stories were spread by bards with too much imagination, but in every story there is always a kernel of truth."

    Antilene returned her gaze to the statue, wondering if to her half-brother that figure cloaked in black was the same that lived in his memory. "Well, not that it has any importance at this point. Rather, do you think Mirina is really a descendant of his?"

    He scratched his chin, thoughtful. "There is a possibility. I am pretty sure he had more than an ''adventure'' with women. The Dark Knight was someone hardly ashamed of the impurity of the flesh. And were we in these lands, or in what today we call Re-Estize, Baharuth or Roble, he never shied away from indulging in that kind of pleasure."

    ''Unlike you,'' or maybe not. But the current idea of the half-elf could not withstand a different perception of what had been built with costly effort. The picture of Logem was drawn in asceticism. To flip it a second time in a matter of minutes was, for some inexplicable reason, deeply uncomfortable.

    "So is the writing engraved here wrong?"

    "Not at all. Don''t confuse the act with the feeling," in a way, Logem resembled Rufus when he took on the teacher''s tone. Strangely comforting, if know-it-all. "I guess there is partly a mistake, though. He loved only one person, as far I am aware. He continued to love her, even when the disease took her away. The Pestilence King''s curses were something different than any other incantations. From a certain point of view, their bane was more ruthless than death."

    The Pestilence King. If Antilene well remembered it had been the leader of the Thirteen who had slayed him, after the sacrifice of a heroic unknown. But before that, the fog of horror and rot he had left behind still survived in mournful lyrics and ballads.

    "And so he had to bury her here, hence the name of the square. I guess resurrection magic was off of the table for that woman." Fifth-tier was in the domain of the heroes, and the thirteen had used it. Still, there were limits not easy to overcome.

    "That is also untrue."

    Antilene furrowed. "Is it?"

    Logem nodded with conviction. "Where resurrection worked, the curses persisted. No matter what we tried to break the spreading diseases, nothing arose. When the Dark Knight''s beloved was struck, I was far away on another mission, so all the finer details are amiss to me. But I was told that they managed to save her, even if they had to change the very essence of her soul to do so. For those of your faith, this was undoubtedly blasphemy."

    Reflecting on what she had been told since her arrival in the Union, things were perhaps beginning to make sense. Only inferences, as long as they remained without concrete evidence.

    "And so he couldn''t love her anymore, once she changed."Stolen novel; please report.

    One did not have to be an expert in matters of the heart to understand that feelings, however pure, however sincere, could not bridge purely biological distances. Even the eye wanted its share.

    "It''s not like that," But Logem denied her convictions. "He loved her, as he did before. He continued to love her tenderly and deeply, trust me. Rather, it was the woman that couldn''t love herself anymore. And if you can''t love yourself, your love for others will always be incomplete, missing an important piece."

    The statue was not facing her, but Antilene had the impression of being observed. Were the lingering feelings of the Dark Knight still there, in wait to reunite with whom had once made him complete? And if the answer was yes, when would they have found peace?

    "Love, you say. Maybe it had not been love at all. Since when are you an expert on the matter, anyway?"

    While some annoying buzz arose, Antilene caught with the corner of her eye a small family of two, mother and child, approaching passer-by, offering them something.

    "You are right," Logem said flatly. "I am inexperienced with the intricacies of the heart. What I am telling you is only what I witnessed at the time, and gathered from other companions. Nothing more, nothing less. It is up to you to choose to believe me or not."

    "In that case, I want to believe you¡­"

    There was no reason in particular. For Antilene, it was no more than a whim to indulge on.

    "Missus, do you want one?"

    The child of before was now next to her. Fluffy tail waving, a face that had no human features, characterized by bestial and dirty countenances. He had with him a tray with some strange sweets on it, the scent of which just hinted at some remnants of cinnamon.

    The mother who was following him, belonging to the same species judging from the same shining gray fur, started to explain after some gestures of pleasantries.

    "My child and late husband used to bake together these little cadeaus. As a last commemoration, we are offering them to everyone here."

    The placid stare, the meek expression. Nothing of her spoke of a warrior.

    Yet her fangs could have torn through the bones of a grown man with ease, her claws penetrating metal just as lightly. She was not a warrior, Antilene concluded. A simple housewife, or any other mundane profession.

    Not a warrior, yet she could have run much longer than an untrained human adult. The night would not have faltered her movements; fatigue would have been more delayed compared to a man.

    ''Not a warrior,'' the half-elf thought. ''Dangerous, nonetheless.''

    "If you were to take one, we would be extremely grateful," she continued, exchanging a look with her son. The cub, one day, could have become a fighter. To honor, or to avenge, his father. Such motivations could prove risky for the future.

    "Please, take one¡­" But, in the present, he remained what he was. A child. Offering some sweets that smelled of cinnamon. Rather than the sword and blood, it was the rolling pin and flour he had embraced.

    It took courage.

    "...Many thanks." An awkward gratitude was the only thing the half-elf could offer in exchange.

    Antilene picked one up noting the uneven texture and coarse appearance. The taste, given the not-quite-excellent impression of the odor, presaged equally uninviting. Her half-brother, on the other hand, looked as if he was pleased by that unexpected gift, expressing emphatic thanks for that simple gesture.

    "Father was a lot better than me. If you don''t like it, you don''t have to force yourself¡­ kind and fair lady."

    They saw again on the child the same traces of weeping that Antilene had observed only a few days earlier, on the heartbroken expression of the centaur satrap. But the loss of a loved one could be not only a source of grief.

    There was a strange resolution in that little creature, as if, in spite of everything, in spite of such mourning, he managed, or at least made an effort, not to let circumstances get him down.

    "It will be fine," the half-elf murmured.

    Logem, who had already finished the first one with unexpected swiftness, was on the verge of an encore. "They are good, little one." The elf tousled the hair, or perhaps the fur, of the little boy with an affectionate gesture. In turn, he got a second treat, accepted with freight.

    Then, after stuffing his mouth, he addressed the mother. "Madam, was your husband one of the guards that fell during the siege?"

    "He was," managing to remain serene, despite the painful inquiry, the demihuman woman offered an insincere smile to him. "He fought on the walls, dying to protect us and all the people here. But don''t be sad for me and this child. His sacrifice is a source of pride for us."

    "I will not be," Logem bowed his head. "I will just commemorate that soldier, if you allow me."

    "Thank you very much¡­"

    "Thank you very much¡­" Both mother and child replied in unison.

    After they had expressed their goodbyes, Antilene still had the sweet on her hand.

    "What''s troubling you? Not being able to save that soldier?"

    "As if¡­" The half-elf could not be moved by such a scene. She had seen more touching ones, and more pathetic ones, without flinching. "I didn''t even try to save the soldiers. The more casualties, the better. In fact, a demi human soldier fallen is beneficial for me and for the Theocracy."

    A simple calculation. Ruthless? Forcing herself to feel misery when it was impossible for her to do so would only have been hypocrisy.

    "Then why are you not eating it?"

    "It just doesn''t feel right. I hate them. I hate their kind. Why should I share their food?"

    "Because, in the end, you saved them. And that is your reward for it. Small, of course. But still better than nothing. Savor it."

    "And yet¡­"

    Logem, as if he was reading her mind, stopped what she was trying to say. "And yet¡­ And yet¡­ It doesn''t seem fair to you. Why? Because you hate them? What nonsense. That doesn''t change what you did. Do you know how many I saved, even though I hated them? Do you believe that the thirteen were well-disposed to all races? That the captain of the air-giants had affection for you humans?"

    No, but they were heroes. And true heroes were supposed to be above conflicts.

    "Maybe you''re right."

    "It was not about saving the world. It never was, no matter what we told ourselves. A special person, a family. Everyone had something small to protect¡­" Her half-brother patted her shoulder, in a clumsy gesture. "Eat it."

    Antilene took a bite. The texture was not refined, and crumbs fell on her and on the ground. An excessive sweetish taste flooded her palate.

    "How it is?"

    "...Nothing special."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    After some minutes, Kista arrived, escorted by a hooded woman.

    "Lady Fouche," the duskborn skin of the mayoress shone under the light of the midday sun. She wore a simple milk-white dress, which accentuated her grace. A necklace of small pearls was the only adornment, along with a ring on her right little finger, emitting a dim amethyst glow. "Let me open by thanking you for your efforts. My beloved still lives thanks to your help."

    "Let''s skip the pleasantries. It was just a way for me to repay you for your hospitality," Antilene shot a glance first to Kista, then to the woman next to her. She caught a familiar scarlet vision of fire-red ringlets dancing in the air. "Why is Kilmestra with you?"

    The servant did not respond. Her concealed expression was devoid of any indication of what she was pondering.

    "I needed someone to accompany me. For a woman it is never safe to walk alone. In dire times, or peaceful ones."

    A bouquet of blue roses was placed next to the other flowers at the statue''s feet, giving even more color to what had grown as a rainbow field in the soil.

    "What happened to the one she swore to protect?"

    Kista arranged the flowers carefully so that they were in the foreground. "Philo Orestes died in the siege, together with magister Kostacles and other important people. Important people that betrayed the Union," she allowed herself a brief burst of laughter. "And regarding Elaina, don''t worry. The halfling is safe. At this point her swan knight is more than enough as a shield."

    The dangers were passed, and the sword could return to the scabbard, that was the implication.

    Antilene waited for Kista to stand up, so as to meet her gaze. They were kind eyes, Kista''s. Warm and friendly, which suggested no falsehood. "Did you kill them? Like you did with Queen Kirke?" For an instant, the woman slightly trembled. Just a fleeting moment, before recomposing herself, giving the impression that nothing had happened. "Or was it the one who is with you now? Why did you have to kill the other servant, I ask?"

    Kilmestra made to move, sticking her hand in some pocket of the overcoat, but Antilene only needed to stare at her for a second for all instility to cease.

    "I had no intention of doing anything," she hastened to apologize, pulling a letter from her coat. "It was from the time I saw you sipping the founder''s poison like it was pure spring water that I knew you were a lost cause. For crying out loud, the story goes that it could have disposed of a full-grown dragon instantly."

    "A misconception. As you see, I am not a dragon," the half-elf calmed Logem, who was beginning to move toward them. "There are too many people here. Let''s not put on a show."

    "On this, we agree," Kilmestra passed the letter in Kista''s hands, who took it with perfect composure. "My employer asked me to give it to you, Lady Fouche, and so here I am. Kill me, if you want. But only after I have honored my contract, if you please."

    "And your employer was¡­" Antilene already had an hunch. She just needed confirmation.

    It was Kista to reply and cease all doubts. "You already know. The late queen, who else? Well, even though the precise instructions were given by me." Without wavering, the letter passed once again to other hands, this time into those of the half-elf. "Tell me, Lady Fouche, how did you find out? I thought I had been careful, and not let slip even the smallest lie. Not to mention the magical objects I had to protect any divination..."

    "You have nothing to worry about, because you were perfect. The divination skills I possess are underdeveloped, and often unreliable. That''s not what made me suspect you," the more developed inquisitor skills for interrogation and investigation required a set path, and a formal process to be put to good use. Antilene''s, on the other hand, had been honed for combat, not hunting. "It was simple enough to notice your behavior. So kind with everyone, always ready to take care of me and the late queen. And yet¡­ That night, you left Queen Kirke alone to follow the other dignitaries, no matter if she had been strange all night. Why? To create an alibi for yourself, and leave the field clear for the assassin," and here the half-elf cast a glance at the servant girl, who grinned with satisfaction. "The rest I can only imagine. In fact, if you care to explain it, it would save me time."

    "Let''s go to a more secluded place," Bebard''s mayoress shrugged a strand of raven hair from her forehead, beginning to lead them away from the Black Blade Square.

    When it was established that there were no more prying ears, she could explain without haste. "The war with the centaurs showed a nest of vipers within our Union. Magister Kostacles, Philo Orestes¡­ They were only a couple of names in a network of careerists and turncoats, traitors to the Mother who had made us great, in the name of profit and convenience. It was Rea who uncovered most of them, but with war looming we had our hands tied. We could not afford internal unrest, not while we were on the verge of collapse..."

    "And here comes the new visiting elf queen," Logem intervened, a harsh tone that did little to conceal the accusations. "A miracle, or mere chance? It did not matter, for little by little it shows you that the outcome of the war is not yet predetermined. There is still hope, if you know how to make use of the tool that has fallen into your hands."

    Kista nodded. Her breath was soft, but steady. Whatever was to happen, she had long accepted it. "Yes. I am sorry, Lady Fouche. For what it''s worth, I really considered you a valuable friend."

    "So have I," Antilene said, emotionless. "Here I can continue, at least in part. The Queen organizes the taking of Karnasus, but she needs to be sure that I am able to defeat the Equestrian King. Therefore her spy inside sells me to the Immortals. There had been no about-turn. The result is¡­ better than expected. The city is retaken, casualties are few, Prince Alexander sits once again on the throne of the symbolic city of the Union, taking all the glory and demonstrating that the Equestrian King can bleed. Skeptics are beginning to believe that he can win..."

    At the gates of the royal palace, the few guards let them through without any problems. The long corridor to which Kista led them was bare, dark, with just a few faint traces of illumination. Walking there was a monotonous stroll, a dismal atmosphere as only company.

    "Yes, that''s right," Kista confirmed, and Antilene did not need to resort to magic to be sure she was telling the truth. "That''s where the Orestes family comes in. The wedding had already been arranged before the war, and for Prince Alexander and Queen Rea that was the right opportunity to test the loyalty of the Franklin guilds."

    "But Philo Orestes was the classic man who liked to keep his foot in both camps. He accepts a hasty marriage for his daughter, while the queen persuades him that I can beat Darius. Words are wind, though, and he needs to test me ... fortunately between the Union and the Baharuth Empire there is a renowned guild of assassins. Elaina was only bait, I was the target."

    Kilmestra raised her hand, waving it playfully. "And that''s where I come in... I must admit that I haven''t had such a funny assignment in a long time... If only my little sisters had been there to see me..." She wiped away a false tear that lined her cheek as the irises in her eyes now took on one color, now another. Her face also began to mutate, assuming a softer connotation in a first instance, followed by harder looking in a second one. "As you may have guessed, the task was to try to kill you. If I failed, I was to simply report on your strength. Unusual, but a girl can''t do anything but be moved when a generous offer is made to her."

    Where the real Kilmestra had gone, it was better not to know. If there was an ounce of honor among misfits, the woman had simply been replaced. Perhaps on a whim, Antilene wanted to believe such romantic idealism to be true, despite it being now evident that she had never met the real one. After all, a good forgery still allowed one to get an understanding of the original.

    "There is only one thing I don''t understand," Logem intervened, turning to the assassin. "Why tell us all this now? I thought secrecy was imperative in your order."

    Kilmestra''s face changed again. It was now indistinguishable from that of Thekla, the servant she had killed. The principle was the same as that of the Antilene earrings, but with a much more refined technique. It was difficult to determine which tier had been necessary to unravel the deception. Or maybe it was different from the traditional systems altogether¡­

    "You speak the truth, you handsome elf," while the transformation was still taking place, Kilmestra''s way of expressing herself also began to change. From abrupt and direct, to more contained, rigorous. It was like hearing Thekla herself speak. "But part of the contract required me to be here to explain everything. The queen cared so much about it that I couldn''t refuse. When a dying request is made to me, I am always ready to follow it up, you know? And when the promised honorarium equals the treasure of a small nation, well, even my life is just a small piece in the great scheme of our organization. Not to say..." A slight inflection, barely perceptible. "Perhaps my death would finally convince them to return home."

    Antilene had no idea who he was referring to, nor did he intend to investigate. "Why kill the queen, then?"

    "It''s simple," Kilmestra -or Thekla- did not let a passing instant of that moment of curiosity escape her. "Besides testing you, I had also been hired to kill the queen. She knew too much, and could not be allowed to continue to¡­ meddling."

    "And until you honored the contract, you could not endanger your contractor, am I right?" For assassins who moved in the shadows, reputation was the best calling card. Establishing trust was crucial.

    "That''s right," the woman, who now had unfamiliar features, assumed a serious and composed air, in stark contrast to the playful attitude of just now. The blond hair recalled Elaina''s. "Are you from the trade?"

    "I have gathered indirect experience," Antilene explained, without elaborating further.

    "Queen Kirke had it all planned, with the complicity of myself and Prince Alexander," Kista stepped in, stopping at a partition without further continuation. The light was now suffused, a puff in the darkness. "Once all was ready, she took her own life herself, before the eyes of the Ijinaya member. By that time the contract had been honored, and when I finally rushed in I was able to engage Kilmestra, with the approval of Queen Kirke."

    She leaned the ring against the walls. A slight glow was unleashed from the contact, raising it with a huff and creating a new passway for them to traverse.

    "That''s right. I have to admit it was really ... hardcore. I''ve killed many targets over the years, but never had I been surprised by someone capable of taking their own life with such confidence." Kilmestra stopped in front of the new passage. Antilene gave up trying to figure out what form she had taken at that juncture. "At that point, I convinced the Orestes to stay, promising to protect them. A sudden departure would align all suspicions on them, that was my reasoning. Very easy, especially when they thought I was still working for them. If they had asked to renew the contract I would have been forced to explain the situation, but fortunately there were no such problems. Magistrate Kostacles had hidden in their apartments, and little by little I gathered what I needed to know to locate all their allies in the city. At the time of the invasion, I accomplished my work."

    "What about Thekla?"

    "An unfortunate coincidence. Which, however, played to our advantage. Her sudden death increased the feeling of danger for our dear merchant. I would have preferred to avoid it, but Kista by then was my new employer. The things you do for a little extra¡­"

    Someone should have asked Thekla if she shared that opinion.

    Kista nodded in agreement as Ijaniya''s assassin once again lowered her hood over her face. "At this point my task has been accomplished. My associates have already notified me that payment has been arranged," part of Antilene was curious as to what treasures had been promised in exchange for that charade. "Now, I will go. Unless, Lady Fouche, you have something against it."

    It was not a challenge. Kilmestra was ready to face the judgment of a higher entity, knowing that her eventual departure would benefit her cause immensely in any case.

    The familiarity of that self-denial was sickening. "Don''t worry. If I were to bear a grudge against anyone who tries to kill me, I would have no acquaintances left."

    The woman approached, but no hostility came from her. "If you would like to make use of my services someday," she handed the half-elf a small, apparently white card. "Use this. It will be enough to think of me, and I will be the one to show up to contact you." Then, without giving an opportunity for a reply, she disappeared into the shadows.

    "A fascinating woman," commented Logem, looking behind him, watching that trail of darkness deepen. "Do you think we will see her again?"

    "Definitely," Antilene stowed the note in a pocket, not before noticing that on the back was a small inscription with indecipherable characters, similar to the runes she had observed in some history book on old dwarven customs. ''Moon runes?'' "You never know when you might need a job done right." Noting that oddity in some recess of her memory, she began to move forward, under Kista''s guidance.

    "Come. He is waiting for you." The corridor became even narrower, as strange as it was to think about. The geometry of those spaces became convoluted, difficult to map. Almost as if every corner and bifurcation was constantly changing places, in some indecipherable pattern.

    "How is Elaina?"

    "Fine. She''s pregnant."

    Antilene thought back to the little crunch she had left, and felt a bite in her throat. "Pregnant with whom?"

    Kista turned, stopping short, the jaw slightly on the verge of opening, before closing again with customary restraint. "Since when did you know?"

    "You''ve confirmed it to me now." Confusion was depicted on Logem''s face, but Antilene wasted no time in explaining. "There was one thing I was wondering. Why did you send Mirina against the Equestrian King? You love her, don''t you?"

    "Lady Fouche, now I have no way to hide from your questioning. You know that I am telling the truth."

    "I know."

    "You know that I love Mirina more than my own life."

    "I know."

    "You know that I would never do anything that would endanger her."

    "I know."

    "So you believe me when I say that I never thought Mirina would be in danger. No more than I might have been."

    "I believe you."

    "You also know that death is not always final."

    "... I know."

    They stopped in front of a wooden door. "General Chazos has disappeared, and Beppo Allo is in revolt. It seems that a defeated military dictator cannot guarantee a peaceful transition. The descendants and rivals of the Orestes will exchange smiles of convenience as they try to divvy up an overly unwieldy legacy. Orcleans will soon have new elections. Change is foretold." Kista opened it with a small key, a slow creaking the only noise produced.

    They emerged into a dimly lit mortuary room. Two bodies were lying on small stretchers. One was of a man who had been strong, and who until a few days before had led his nation with commitment and dedication. The other one was old and frail, contoured by wrinkles and sores. At one time, perhaps, it had been human. Perhaps it had been beautiful. At least, now, it was at peace.

    The gentle rustling of something interrupted whatever observation could have been inferred.

    Someone was writing at a desk a short distance from the two beds. Small, pressed, the figure was dipping his quill pen into an inkwell of shiny black ink. Definitely impractical, in comparison with more sophisticated methods. Some people found relief in traditions, Antilene considered, and perhaps this was a decision dictated by particular tastes. Not everything had to submit to rules of efficiency.

    "Lady Fouche," the little man noticed their entrance, looking up from the paper. "You have come, at least! I have just finished! The glorious ride of the Returned Prince, how one man defeated death and tyranny with a single stroke of his sword. What do you think?"

    Dinocrates proudly waved the paper on which that far too long title had been transcribed.

    "Shouldn''t you rather think of the living? Mirina needs your support to be regarded as the nation''s new heroine, or does she?"

    He stood up, walking awkwardly to her. His gait was unsteady, giving the impression that just lifting a leg to take a step was a source of pain. "Of course, of course. But there is time for that. The future is yet to be written..."

    The half-elf snatched the paper from his hands, leaving him like a boiled fish. Sentences one after another, arranged in paragraphs and chapters, in razor-sharp precision. "I don''t want to contradict you, but Prince Alexander is dead. The one you passed off as the prince, at least. Have you perhaps decided to show yourselves for who you really are to your people?"

    The scribe began to laugh. A soft, very peculiar giggle. There was almost a note of contempt in it. "Kista and old Rea were right. Nothing can be hidden from you. When? When did you find out?"

    "I just pieced together some scattered information, and when I saw how you suggested to your puppet how to behave in the most difficult situations I realized part of the truth. Now I only got the last piece of the mosaic."

    A prince not deformed or monstrous. Just weak, small. Insignificant. Rumors were unfair. When they weren''t? Twins raised as his shadow completed the picture. One as a champion. The other as his spokesman.

    Blood had been ungenerous to Dinocrates. Or Alexander.

    "You are wrong about one thing, though. The real Alexander was him," he rested his hand on the corpse''s chest, as if trying to listen to its heartbeat. "Why was I born this way? Some blamed my mother, an insignificant woman. Others blamed my father, who allegedly offended more than one deity. A punishment? An accident? I don''t know the answer. What I know is that the Alexander we created, the strong, handsome, and ever-ready prince was him. And with his brother The Brave we created a legend. Do you want to condemn us for that?"

    Dinocrates had long since stopped dreaming and was trying to make the prison of his reality into oneiric. A futile attempt to make the mundane magical. The bars his imagination, a fantasy of words his sentence.

    "That is only for you to judge," Antilene answered, dismissing further considerations. "Does your bride know?"

    "Does it matter?"

    "I guess not," Antilene shrugged, without pondering too much on that matter. For Elaina to be pregnant, the only occasion was just the brief occasion they shared after the ceremony, all while the old queen forsaken her life. There was some funny statement to make there, but the half-elf avoided it. "This will not resolve your problems. This man, the man we''ll continue to call Alexander for convenience, is dead. Did you find someone capable of casting resurrection magic, perchance? If not, many of your plans will start to go awry."

    "No need," Kista gave something to Antilene. A pair of wands. "We have this. And we have you¡­"

    The half-elf took one in her hands, observing it curiously. "Where did you find them?" The mystery of the concealed spell unfolded with just the touch, a shiver of surprise and excitement ran with unexpected force down her back. In the Theocracy, that concealed secret would have been unheard of. "Magic objects that cast the fifth tier..."

    The very idea was inconceivable to most of the world''s inhabitants. Antilene, also characterized by such impossibility, watched in amazement as what had been brought to her.

    "I never feared for Mirina, Lady Fouche. Until her body was to be retrieved, I could save her," Kista made her approach the body of the late Alexander. Or The Brave, to be precise. "We need a divine caster to perform the resurrection. It was Queen Kirke''s plan to ask you. She was confident that you wouldn''t leak sensitive information, after all. In return, we will cover up your presence in these places."

    More easily said than done, but Antilene was aware of Dinocrates'' skills. His work was not mere entertainment, but had the great ability to convince an extended audience of people with strong persuasion. There was power in words, that saying had never sounded so true. It was one of the reasons why she had developed the glorious rise of Mirina after the defeat of the Equestrian King.

    "I have no objection. May I ask where you got them, though?"

    She shot a glance at her half-brother, noticing that he was looking thoughtfully at those two relics, trying to remember where he had seen them before.

    "One of Rea''s last legacies. I can''t tell you more, because it would be impossible for me..."

    "I see. Let''s proceed, then. Who do you want me to start with?"

    "Alexander," Dinocrates stepped between the two women, with newfound excitement. One could glimpse how being able to hug his double again made him extremely happy. "I implore you, Lady Fouche. Begin with him."

    Kista had no objection. Antilene gave one of the wands to Logem, and stood a few steps away from the first one designated for resurrection.

    The spell came to life from the end of the wand, weaving a clear, enveloping light. Tiny pieces of miracle took on the form of fireflies on their way to a shadow-adorned sky enclosed in a dark ceiling, while the room''s meager illumination was enlivened with fatuous fires riveted by a celestial flame.

    The energy concentrated, and embraced the corpse, with an overpowering grace. It was a touch that brought to mind as much a long kiss of farewell, delicate and melancholy, as a powerful brotherly hug, strong and firm.

    "..."

    Dinocrates, with a dreamy look on his face, saw that wonderful phenomenon come to its end. It was like setting one''s gaze on a dark sky that was being filled little by little with many different stars, shining the vault of heaven.

    "..."

    "..."

    "... What happened?" He squeezed his shadow''s hand harder, finding no reaction. "Alexander... Alexander wake up¡­ Please¡­ I beg you¡­" He continued again and again calling that name. Nothing. There was no sign of life coming from that body that had reached peace.

    "Lady Fouche..."

    Ignoring Kista, Antilene took the second wand and repeated the miracle once more, pointing at Queen Rea Kirke.

    The same magic unfolded.

    The same light enveloped the body of the old crone.

    Nothing this time either.

    "There you go...these are useless now..." The half-elf threw the two magical items on the ground, as if they were simple trash. "I can go, nothing more to do."

    "Stop..." Dinocrates wanted to look big, but he was small. "Stop, you damned half..." He regretted what he was about to say before he could even come to a conclusion.

    Logem had a knife to his back, just waiting for an order.

    "Let him go," Antilene ordered, annoyed by that useless display. "Prince, what do you know about resurrection magic? Do you perhaps know that it is not always effective? That it can be rejected? Usually it doesn''t. Ask yourself, why did it happen this time?"

    The little man had no answer to give her.

    "As I thought."

    She could have counted on the fingers of one hand the times it had happened in the Theocracy over those long centuries. There was always a choice, after all. Incomprehensible to all but those who had made it.

    "Lady Fouche, do you perhaps want to say that both Alexander and Rea..."

    "Yes, Kista. They deceived you from the beginning. They had never intended to return. The burden and consequences of your actions will have to fall on you alone."

    The woman bit her lip, finding herself perhaps for the first time not knowing what to say. "The letter... The letter that Rea had delivered to you. What does it say?"

    Antilene had almost forgotten. She brought the envelope to her eyes, giving the impression that she was about to open it... Then she tore it apart. "It doesn''t matter. Kista, history is made of constant repetition. There is no more reliable book of prophecies. Think of the one you love. Then think of the one who has now left everything in your hands, and decide what to do."

    As friends, that advice was the most precious gift she could grant her.

    "I..."

    "I don''t want to listen to your answer."

    She left her there. Antilene left them both there, Dinocrates and Kista, giving them the space they needed to ponder their future.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "So you are leaving?" Elaina was looking out the window of her room. An image that had little of the familiar, for Antilene, yet conveyed a certain amount of sadness and homeliness.

    Perhaps, it was simply seeing that small woman continue to caress her belly that left her interjected. What was she thinking at that moment? Was she feeling anger at being used? Or was she happy for having fulfilled her duty?

    Antilene dared not ask, for she knew that some things said more about ourselves than what they said about others.

    "Yes. My stay is over. I just wanted to extend a brief greeting to you... And give you my condolences."

    The halfling had an ethereal smile on her face. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as her small diaphragm contracted in regular but uncertain breathing.

    "I am as sorry for my father as you are. I cry for him, as many do in these dire days. Knowing that he died defending the Union is a great satisfaction for me, nevertheless. Remember what I told you, Lady Fouche, everyone has a role. And my father played his¡­ We reap what we sow. Expecting something different would be foolish."

    Philo Orestes had died in a latrine, like the worst of dogs. But the story circulating was that he had led a small defensive expedition after the breach in the walls. Did his daughter know about this? All Antilene would have had to do was ask the right way, ask the right question, to be sure. Regardless of any inquisitor skills.

    She chose to remain in the dark.

    "Were you afraid when the invasion happened?"

    "My brave swan knight was here to defend me. Why should I have been afraid? You should have seen him, Lady Fouche. So gallant, so valiant. Even if an army had stormed in, it would have made no difference. I almost feel regret for everything I asked of him..." Dionegis was standing guard near the door, which remained ajar, rubbing the tip of his sword with a filthy cloth, so gleaming it gave the impression of having just come out of the forge. "Besides, I knew you were out there keeping watch over us. I''ve never been so safe as I was today."

    Could that sweet maiden have taken part in her father''s death? It seemed impossible.

    Still, magister Kostacles should have been in the room adjacent to hers. Had she really not noticed anything?

    As Elaina rose to approach her, Antilene noticed no traces of pregnancy. It was also true that too little time had passed. Or perhaps had it been another lie?

    "You give me too much grace, new queen." Was she aware of Alexander and Dinocrates'' ploy?

    Perhaps she had known from the beginning, or perhaps that weak, petite girl was stronger than the half-elf in dealing with the most impervious situations. Easy to bend the world when you could wipe out whole armies with a breath. Without ever having known frailty, could one be aware of true strength?

    "You were my knight, if only briefly. Let me salute you, and adore you as befits a trusted friend." The halfling gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. Antilene did not even feel the moisture on the lips. She stroked her skin, wondering if she hadn''t just imagined it.

    "If you need me, call me with this and I will come, as a rightful knight." The half-elf pulled a scroll from her bag, which she placed on one of the nearby furnishings. "Will you be okay?"

    "I will. I got everything I wished for."

    "And what is it?"

    Elaina took on a sly look. "It''s a secret."

    They exchanged a smile of friendship. Antilene walked toward the exit.

    When she closed the door, Dionegis was staring at her.

    "I must thank you, Lady Fouche." The swan knight had thrown his sword to the ground and prostrated himself entirely toward her. "You have saved my lady, and this kingdom. If only words were enough..."

    "On the right occasion, they can be," she reassured him. "What will you do now?"

    "I have failed my task. I turned my back on the one who saved me from a life in the slums and filth. I don''t regret what I did, but I still stained my honor. Still, I would gladly do it again¡­"

    ''For her,'' Antilene concluded for him, letting his silence speak more than a hundred words.

    His sword had been cleaned from top to bottom. There was not a single trace of dirt left on it. Nothing unusual, so why had he continued to wipe it until just before?

    And why had he done that? A single word, a single word that redefined every relationship.

    "And will that be enough to let you abandon her? Are your feelings so insincere? Is so little enough for you to falter?"

    The knight''s amethyst eyes shone like Mirina''s. History repeated itself, Antilene had affirmed. Occasionally, with unexpected outcomes.

    "I have been guilty of a grave sin, but I will remedy it in the only way I know how."

    With a sacrifice, thought Antilene. A difficult sacrifice, and at the same time the most easy of all.

    "Go ahead and find a quiet place to die, as far as I''m concerned. If your life is worth so little, I certainly won''t be the one to tell you to treasure it."

    "What is life without honor? Rather, where is honor if not in death?" The swan knight asked.

    "Living is honor enough," she told him.

    Antilene made to leave. It took her only a few steps to hear his voice again.

    "Lady Fouche, is there a chance for me? When does the path of redemption end?"

    "Never. That''s what makes it so hard¡­ And so beautiful."

    Antilene did not wait for a continuation of that conversation. The conclusion, for her, had already been reached.

 Chapter 58: a long-awaited reunion

    Chapter 58

    Prologue: a long-awaited reunion

    The candle''s light was almost consumed. It could have taken only a snap of fingers to have magic illuminate the room, but Rufus preferred to see the wax slowly wear off.

    Only a whim, the last vestigia of a world that wasn''t his anymore.

    "Are you sleeping?"

    His disciple''s voice was soft. Rufus had noticed her entering only a moment ago. The slow creaking of the door had brought disturbance to a hard-built peace. Looking up, a sad melancholy was suppressed by a default pattern of coldness. A squeak of a worn mechanism resonated in his mind, shaping concerts of distant pasts.

    "You ask as if you didn''t already know the answer."

    The undead tried to remember how to smile. The bones could form just a remembrance of an expression, the imprinting of forsaken emotions.

    Nevertheless, the result was quite satisfactory, if not completely correct.

    "You never know. Things change¡­"

    Things changed indeed.

    The inexorable passage of time was so methodical that in many instances it almost left the impression that the change was just a glare, and that it happened out of the blue, from one moment to the next, without giving an opportunity to get accustomed to it.

    But that was just an illusion. The hands of the clock flowed indifferently from the attentions of those who were to perceive them.

    "You are right. My pupil has become wise while away."

    "Or maybe I always was. You just didn''t notice." Antilene''s grin was warm. The derision hid an immeasurable affection that could make every heart beat in joy, even ones made of nothingness and void.

    "Is this the way to treat an old man?"

    The half-elf took a seat next to his desk. The smell of closed must have been penetrating, because Rufus saw her pull up with the nose in an inelegant manner.

    "Old? Since when are you old? Something really happened while I was gone. Did you start to steal souls, perhaps? Or the dreams of all the children of the Theocracy are more to your taste?"

    A mocking implication of alleged monstrosity, counterbalanced by laughter that flowed clear in that dismal atmosphere.

    "Neither of them," the candle had reached the end of its cycle. Resorting to magic to bring back the light was a mandatory choice at that point. "I remember the last time we saw each other, but I can''t allocate a date. How long has it been since then?"

    "Months. You have probably spent more just staying here."

    "Months¡­" Perception could be tricky. "I had much to write. The political situation in the neighboring countries is quickly mutating. The Scriptures, the Cardinals¡­ are they still the same?"

    "They are."

    Dominic, Berenice, Maximillian, Yvon, Zinedine¡­ and Raymond, the old guard of the Black. Was he right?

    The names started to overlap. Sometimes, they repeated. How many Dominic and Berenice and Raymond had followed in the history of Slaine? Watching the library he guarded, the desire to read all the treasures there kept sourged in him. To remember, and to honor again those who were here no more.

    What was the point in that? He didn''t know.

    "Tell me. What did you see in your travels? You were in the City-State Alliance, if I am not mistaken."

    "Correct. I saved them from a horde of centaurs. I took many valuable items from their king, this included."

    Antilene untied a necklace to which an emerald feather was attached, handing it to him gently. An emerald blaze spread with that simple step, illuminating the atmosphere with a bright green glow.

    Rufus examined it carefully, being amazed at the sensation of wonder growing in him. "One of the tears of the world. Equal to the panoplies of the Gods."

    "Tears? Like Downfall?"

    The undead nodded, feeling strangely invigorated. "At one time, these were leaves of a sacred tree. The tree from which every world originated."

    The half-elf''s expression was an easy puzzle to decipher. "If you say so," she whistled, without paying much attention to him.

    He did not hold it against her. The original creatures of the new world had difficulty understanding the intricate reality that connected the two realities. At times, even he remained confused, caught between what he now believed to be a distant illusion and what he considered to be his new existence.

    "What else did you find?"

    "Curious?"

    "Immensely so."

    His disciple smirked, in the same vein she used to when greatly pleasured. In his imagination, that now full-grown woman was still the child who sat on his lap when tired, snoring on his legs when sleeping.

    "I took great care to note down everything I saw," from the bag she carried, the half-elf pulled out a leather-bound notebook. "It is the first of many. I want you to read it."

    After handing it to her, Antilene was colored with an unusual nostalgia. Her cheeks, white as snow, blushed just enough to be noticed even by Rufus. "I didn''t think you were into writing," the teacher murmured, with some surprise. "Why?"

    "I''m not. And the result I think is barely satisfactory..." The position Antilene had assumed in the chair was properly composed. Unusual. As a rule, grace was almost unknown to his disciple.

    Rufus was almost struck by a motion of concern.

    He was on the verge of asking her what was troubling her. The sound of silence, however, could not be disturbed by the bad counselor that was haste.

    "I talked to the Cardinals. According to Windstride''s reports in the Draconic Kingdom there are some traces of those who are looking for me," she finally spoke after a few minutes. To be done well, things required the proper amount of patience. "There are no other traces of that mysterious cult in the Elven Kingdom. And I got tired of standing around waiting for their next moves."

    "When will you leave?"

    "At the earliest. Things are also getting complicated in the south. I may be forced to intervene there too."

    South. That direction took the form of something definite.

    "Is the flying city in danger?"

    Antilene nodded. Then, her lips parted hesitantly. The memory of when was the last time Rufus had seen that uncertainty peep over his disciple was clouded. A missed beat, or the alienating sensation of what could perhaps have been called that movement, caused him to doubt himself about what was experiencing.

    "Did you know?"

    "Know what?"

    Antilene closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It was easy to imagine her preparing for that question countless times before asking it. Yet, that had not been enough.

    The ringing of the bells -midday or midnight made no difference- was the only thing keeping that moment from getting lost in the lull.

    "My father''s origins. Did you know he was the son of one of the Eight?"

    He observed her. This was no joke, in all probability. Just the indomitable desire to know the truth. How could he deny her?

    "No... But I had my suspicions."

    "Why?"

    There was no disappointment in Antilene. Nor anger, or any other emotion that could be traced to such a strong feeling. There was something else, though. Something that, if it could have been easily defined, would have led him to question what he thought he knew about humans.

    And his disciple was not only human, however. Many times, it was easy to forget.

    "Decem Hougan''s strength, the timing of his appearance, the fact that one of the Eight Greed Kings was an elf. There were the elements to be able to advance this hypothesis... But it was circumstantial evidence, with no real value other than a sensation fueled by far too much paranoia."

    Now that he repeated that reasoning aloud, it sounded to him tremendously like disingenuous excuses. Rufus had no soul to fathom, nor anything resembling a conscience. Not anymore, at least.

    Watching the half-elf sigh before him, it was almost natural to wonder how far a deception could extend. How much the darkness could engulf, when your eyes remained closed.

    "That''s not what I was talking about. I want to know why you never told me. You could have at least shared your uncertainties with me."

    Why?

    There was always a need for a why with mortals.

    And why hadn''t he, in fact, done so?

    Did he not want to break that little girl even more as she held back her tears by sinking her head into his robes? Or did he not want the adult woman who felt hatred toward herself to come to despise her existence even more?

    Excuses, just excuses.

    His disciple was not glass. She was not steel. She was something more. As the blacksmith who forged her, Rufus was well aware.

    Nonetheless, a blacksmith was not a God. A blacksmith knew metal, and the sweat that flowed from the forges. But not a God did not know blood. A God did not know the tribulations of the flesh.

    Why did he want to protect it, then? He had let her loose in the world, and at any moment Antilene could be snatched away from him.

    Just as each of the children of the Theocracy had been snatched away from him, taken away by the Silent Lady or by the furious enemies who surrounded them. Without mercy, without a farewell. It just happened. His eyes were wells now devoid of water, his chest a strand of bone guarding something that was no longer there. His fingers caressed ghosts, and the only future he could see was reflected in a remote, ancient lake, now dry.

    "I thought it prudent not to share with you. If it will do any good, know that I regret it."

    Rufus did not know what to expect. Part of him, deep down, anticipated condemnation. Another, smaller part felt a kind of relief at the hate that could have followed. He had received so much unconditional love over the years that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be loathed.

    Instead, none of this happened. Antilene''s response was blunt. "You have nothing to apologize for. I know you did it for my sake."

    "You were right¡­ You have always been wise. Let me at least offer my apologies for not noticing until it was too late."This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    "It is never too late. Not for us..." His disciple pointed with her index finger to the diary she had handed him as a gift. "Read it, when you get the urge. I will bring you more, so that you will always know what I am doing."

    One word could bridge a small distance. Many could make people even closer. Especially if they were the right ones.

    "I thank you. They will be perfect for my chronicles."

    Antilene smiled. A smile that carried much tenderness with it. "And so you will never forget me." Unexpectedly, there was a certain joy in that expression that so much should have sounded sad.

    "I could never forget you."

    "Instead you will," she replied. "It won''t be in a century, maybe not even in a millennium. Just as you have seen me grow, you will see me age. Someday the wrinkles on my face will lead you to wonder if the frightened little girl you met ever really existed. Then, I will be dust. And then a memory. Sweet, sad. All these things together. I will no longer be a person, but many little stories, many little events. You will begin to forget my name. I can already imagine how you will start calling me. ''My little disciple'', ''the young half elf'', ''the old guardian''. All true, and all false. Then you will begin to forget my face. It will become an imprecise form. The color of my eyes, the shape of my lips, the conformation of my nose will become more and more imprecise. And then nothing¡­ And that''s okay. I will be gone, but you will stay here, for much longer. Let me keep you from being alone, maybe we will be able to fool Surshana too."

    Because the God of Death was also the God of Forgetfulness, and absolute death was also that. To disappear from all memory, from all history.

    But Surshana... Rufus was part of him, two sides of the same coin. Could anyone be asked to consciously deceive himself?

    "In that case, let your master make a request of you for once. Bring me more, so that I can keep them, and give them importance. So that I can read them and read them again, until they become part of me."

    "I will be glad."

    There was one thing Antilene was wrong about. The half-elf had not taken into account that Rufus, too, would be destined to be gone one day.

    ''Eternity, after all, is a time far too long for everyone.''

    And if one day they were to be parted then, perhaps, there was also the hope of a reunion.

    Even if they would not recognize each other, it would not matter in the end.

    How can a queen inspire her people?

    There was a dragon, in her dream.

    The dragon was flying high in the sky, the color of its scales reflecting a wonderful rainbow. Draudillon loved to marvel at the different hues that bounded together in a mystical dance, while a soothing music played in the distance. The smell of wet soil, which so much brought to mind the aftermath of a rainy day, engulfed that vision.

    "My dear, of all my children you are my biggest masterpiece. The arts we thought lost live once again in your small and frail body. On your shoulders rest the hopes of an entire race, and fate calls you to abide by your destiny."

    The dragon had assumed the form of an old man. Gray his hair, gray his beard, gray his eyes.

    Everything about him conveyed the idea of old age. A dignified, no-frills austerity. His robes were adorned with jewelry and embroidery. Lapis lazuli and ancient symbols, emeralds and diamonds traced lines of radiance.

    The voice was stern, contoured by the calmness that only deep wisdom could impart. It was like listening to a fairy tale that had been heard more than once before, reassuring in its predictability.

    The two of them were in a huge library, with so many shelves that just counting them would take more than a lifetime. The smell of paper was pungent, but not unpleasant.

    "How can I do that, Grandfather?"

    Draudillon had always called him grandfather, although it was not the most appropriate term, but great-grandfather wasn''t as easy on the tongue. Ever since she was little more than a child, ever since she had first shown talent, the now queen of the Draconic Kingdom had no other memories than those shared with the dragon.

    By day, she was given the education of a princess: economics, art, etiquette, affairs of state. An existence out of the ordinary, but not special.

    At night, when the stars fell, her grandfather would visit her in dreams. Actually, although she called them dreams, they were not really such. They were recollections, experiences that merged with something arcane and secret.

    Her infant hands clung to the dragon''s back, and the skin of her face caressed the night breeze, watching from above that world that everyone had forced her to fear.

    ''Yet it is so beautiful,'' Draudillon Oriculus thought in those moments.

    "You mortals are attached to the idea that fate is fulfilled by a simple action. You look for a single instant that divides the before with the after. But that is not how life flows."

    Now, her grandfather looked like a woman. Golden hair that fell over her shoulders, and golden eyes that shone brighter than the sun in the sky. Even the lips had contours that blinded.

    The voice was melodious, soothing as a lullaby. Every word an embrace, every syllable spoken an affectionate motherly kiss. The hands with which she stroked her hair were soft and warm. The scent of roses she exuded made one feel safe.

    The library had given way to a large room, filled with musical instruments. It was the same one where Draudillon used to listen to the concerts that companies of wandering bards brought to her court.

    The vague feeling of familiarity put her at ease. Draudillon had no particularly pleasant memories of her parents, not because they had been inadequate. On the contrary, they had showered her with affection and attention.

    At that moment, however, she really understood what it meant to be loved by a mother.

    "Give me at least a hint. Something to put me on the right track. Without you, I am lost. Insignificant. My heritage is meaningless without you to guide me. Tell me..." But the words died in her throat.

    ''Why have you abandoned me?'' She wanted to shout. ''Why did you leave me alone?'' She would have accused him, tossing back bile and contempt for her current situation.

    But what would it matter? The dragon was flying in the sky, and she was left on earth. She could not touch the stars, could not set her eyes on the sun.

    She could only wait, locked up in the palace, while everything she loved was slowly eroded by time and grief.

    "What do you see?"

    "A warrior."

    The dream had turned into something else, and a deserted heath was the stage for that final act.

    Draudillon watched her grandfather take one last form. A shape that, like the others, was familiar to her. Indeed, even more so.

    Raven hair, sun-kissed skin, and muscles that instilled no fear, only a great desire for protection. Well-made armor, and an unfailing sword at his side.

    Both of them moved through that wasteland, where shadows with vaguely human outlines challenged each other. Sometimes they would fall, but then they were quick to get back up and continue with that struggle. The strange thing was that they never seemed to have an end, and although little by little some were swallowed up by larger ones, they multiplied faster than they could undo themselves.

    "If it''s supposed to be a metaphor for the meaninglessness of war, I get the hint."

    There was not the slightest trace of blood, any smell that would suggest death. Aseptic was the landscape, like a crystal case kept isolated from the world.

    "Far from it," the warrior replied. "These people have nothing. The desert is not worth fighting for, and yet the shadows do it anyway. Why? Maybe because they think that someday something will bloom here again?"

    "Perhaps they protect what little they have. When one has nothing, that is enough treasure."

    Her grandfather never smiled. He did not that time either, although he showed satisfaction with the answer with an almost imperceptible movement of the head.

    "Do you think the past can be changed?"

    What a futile question.

    "Of course not."

    The warrior returned the rainbow dragon once again, and Draudillon the little girl clinging to him.

    "Yet there are those who are trying. When we leave this world, our sins, our mistakes, do not go away with us. And we impose on those who come after to remedy them. What a disgrace. Not even the Court of Miracles, the roar of the world, can depart from this bitter truth."

    The dragon did not speak. It communicated with her through something beyond mere words. The voice it emitted in her head was more than the sum of the parts of those that had preceded it.

    "Grandfather, what does all this mean? The Court of Miracles was where the old lords of the world gathered. But the Dragon Emperor is gone, and his son..."

    "Your breath, my dear, is still strong. Don''t let it be snatched away from you. Now is the time to wake up..."

    Draudillon felt a chill run down her spine. "No..." Even as she opened her mouth, no sound came out. "Don''t leave me..."

    But the dream ended, and the dragon was no more. With him, the rainbow was also gone.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    She woke up and was still a child.

    ''Another day,'' Draudillon thought while waiting for the maidens to enter her chambers.

    It didn''t take long.

    After the first rays of dawn, the morning ceremonial had been completed, and the queen of the Draconic Kingdom prepared to eat breakfast.

    "Would you prefer sweet or savory, my Queen?" The butler in charge of the day watched her apprehensively, worried that the fragile body she dressed might shatter with a single breath of wind.

    "Salty. Nothing too heavy on the stomach, please."

    The choice turned out to be less difficult than expected as there were not many alternatives. Some simple goat cheese and a serving of eggs. Sweet wine to clear the throat. The only consolation was knowing that that sacrifice would not weigh too heavily on the nation''s coffers.

    Coffers that were already crying from too much spending, almost as much as Draudillon would have liked to mourn.

    But could a queen cry when her kingdom was suffering?

    What a stupid question.

    Of course she could.

    "Is Her Majesty devoting herself to her customary morning weeping?"

    Draudillon did not give much consideration to the man who had disturbed her in her private moment. "The prime minister exists to support the queen, not to mock her."

    Magone adjusted the frames of his glasses, remaining impassive. "Mine is not a criticism. I am aware that if her fair majesty devotes herself to this activity, it is only to harden her heart and ready herself to make the most difficult decisions throughout the day."

    It was certainly a charming way to describe the situation, although in truth Draudillon was only doing it so as not to feel too overwhelmed by all that was going on around her on a daily basis.

    "Is there much to do today?" Wiping away her tears with a handkerchief, the little queen made her way through the corridors of the palace. "I could return to my true self, perhaps."

    Getting comfortable walking with a smaller-than-normal body had required patience and practice, and after years of experience there was still some internal imbalance between what should have been the width of her steps and the actual width.

    "Today is the ceremony for the fallen. It would be good for the people to remember what a lovely sovereign they are losing their sons and daughters for."

    "Until proven otherwise, they are also losing them to save themselves..." Realizing the ruthlessness of the consideration, Draudillon hastened to apologize. "Forgive me. I am aware that giving an ideal to die for is useful. An ideal of a united nation..." And she, as queen, was living proof of that ideal.

    "There is no need to apologize. This servant has heard nothing improper."

    "I am fortunate that you are a little hard of hearing," after a sigh that lasted longer than expected, she asked the question she so willingly would have avoided. "How many?"

    "A hundred."

    "That many?"

    It was no surprise, but being accustomed to such a tragedy said all too much about their current plight.

    "The fighting at the front is getting tighter. The demi-humans have not planned a thorough invasion this time. It is more like a mass emigration, as if they are running away from something."

    But from what? The idea made her shudder. Her thoughts turned to Stronoff, who was on that front that was becoming more unhealthy every day. Also to Crystal Tear and the other adventurers who had decided to go beyond material matters only for the collective interest.

    Despite her personal views, it was a sacrifice Draudillon was ready to respect.

    "Is there anything else?"

    They were only a few minutes into the day and her head was already pounding. A splendid start, all things considered.

    "Count Fasil requests reinforcements as soon as possible."

    "Can we send them to him?"

    The Prime Minister''s frowning expression was enough of an answer.

    "We''ll come up with something..."

    "Then there is the matter of Baroness Ayin. Many minor nobles feel that she is not suitable as a regent as long as she is still...unmarried. They propose a marriage to strengthen the lineage. A male figure would also be necessary for the education of the young scion."

    Ruspina was one of the most prosperous territories in the kingdom, and could not be left in a heated situation.

    Unfortunately, a combined match could also have created a dynastic crisis, given the possibility of a male child for the new regent. Accidents happened...

    "It is not welcomed for the Crown to get too involved in these matters. For now, let the Baroness settle any grievances. If they persist, the nobles who continue to have problems can request an assemblage to resolve the matter."

    The problems continued to pile up, giving no chance to rest. The stress accumulated so much that the lack of it had come to be alienating.

    "As you wish. Unfortunately, I think we''ll have to come back to discuss the situation in the future..."

    "Leave it to the Draudillon of the future then."

    She asked forgiveness from her tomorrow self, but the one of the present already had too much on her mind.

    The rest of the day continued as planned.

    The commemoration ceremony was quick, just a few words of comfort and a few medals awarded to some survivors who had been given an award leave.

    When Draudillon saw their faces, she could not help but wonder if those soldiers would find the readiness to return to the battlefield again, and perhaps understood why they had been given the opportunity to go home.

    ''Stronoff is a fine captain. He knows that it is better to have no men than to find himself dead weight in the middle of the action.''

    Then followed the discussions with various officials, the remonstrances of nobles and citizens, the -disastrous- meetings with ministers...

    By the end of the day, the little queen was sitting on her throne, alone. Even Magone had gone home, so he could get a few hours of rest before starting the tour again.

    "So tired," she said to no one in particular.

    "I can imagine," however, someone, strangely, replied.

    "And today was not a particularly difficult day either... Wait a second..."

    Draudillon snapped, getting up in one movement. In her haste, she tripped and fell to the ground with a somersault.

    A hand helped her up.

    "So is this your child form? Looks cute, I guess."

    Squinting, the queen realized she recognized the voice.

    "Lady Fouche?"

    The half-elf, Evasha''s new ruler, was exactly as she had seen her at the ball organized by young Jircniv, albeit in less formal attire. A white sweater and plain black pants.

    The hand clasping hers was overflowing with energy, and Draudillon had the feeling of clinging to a mountain.

    "Had you not been warned of my arrival?"

    Draudillon shook her head, confused. Lady Fouche squinted her eyes in response, opening her mouth as a naive child, realizing she had forgotten something important.

    "Ah, right. I should have done that. Forgive me, but I''m traveling without an entourage this time, and it''s hard to remember all these necessary ceremonies."

    It was not required for a queen of another nation to bow her head in apology, but Draudillon perceived no particular royalty from the newcomer. And this was not particularly bad, necessarily.

    "How did you get in?"

    "The guards at the entrance wouldn''t let me in, telling me it was too late and I should have come back tomorrow to express the request with proper formalities, so I had to run a bit."

    "Run?"

    "Yes. No one saw me. I could have jumped out the window, but it seemed inelegant. In truth, the fewer people who know I''m here, the better."

    Confusion was rampant in Draudillon''s mind, but she decided to accept it as something natural.

    "And why are you here?"

    Lady Fouche clapped her hands, sporting a smile that could only have been described as devilish.

    "Rejoice. I''ve come to solve your problems. The ones with an exaggerated amount of fur, at least. Provided you accept my help, that is."

    Coming from anyone else, those words would have sounded like sheer madness. Unexpected help did not fall from the sky, and one person alone would not have been enough to set things right.

    Before worrying more about any possible trap hidden in that statement, the queen of the Draconic Kingdom had only one thing to say¡ª

    "When do we start?"

 Chapter 59: can a broken sword still be useful?

    Chapter 59

    Can a broken sword still be useful?

    Gazef ran his hand over the corpse''s shoulder blade. The bite marks had gone deep, and part of the body now found itself without a significant portion of flesh and bone.

    "Name?" He asked the chief assistant. A young man with a face that had seen too few springs for his liking.

    "Captain, you don''t need to..."

    "I asked for the name, boy." Voice firm, but gentle. He didn''t want to give the impression that it was a rebuke.

    "Gaman, my lord."

    "I am not your lord." Gazef covered the deceased with a cloth so that those lifeless closed eyes could not judge him. Not too much. "Did he have a family?"

    "A peasant who enlisted out of pure patriotism. There are many like him among the deceased. Men who had lost everything and had nothing left but to enlist."

    ''A fool, then. No more than a child, and a fool.'' What use was there in them? Of those, they had plenty by now. A repulse of disgust kneaded his throat. Gazef had to restrain himself from shouting at an unknown enemy, an unfathomable doom. "How many others are there like him?"

    The assistant raised his head from the report he was filling out. Before he spoke, it took him a few seconds to be able to find the right words. "Too many, captain." The result was not the best, but with the time allowed asking for more would have been tyrannical.

    "I understand."

    Never once had the answer been the opposite. Vain hope. One alone was already too many for Gazef.

    "I want all their names. History, family, reasons why they were fighting. Prepare worthy eulogies and send them to the capital. Establish a fee as compensation for the surviving loved ones. It doesn''t matter if it''s too high."

    More than a few pennies they would not have collected anyway. Rations were already scarce for those fighting, let alone squander wealth for those in safety.

    Safe. It sounded like a bad joke just thinking about that word.

    "Captain, you''re not going to read them all?"

    "What do you think I have to do?" Gazef turned away, without waiting for an answer. In fact, there were far too many things to do. But he owed those boys the respect they were due. The memory accorded to their sacrifice was already too little in the way of compensation. To give less? What madness.

    Preserving sanity required mourning.

    In the camp, the air was gloomy. How many had been lost since the beginning of all this? To know would only have been more painful. He had lost count after a short while, and he did not intend to start again.

    Gazef walked past the swollen body of a demi-human. The skin had been skinned in order to make clothing to cover the people with, and the fangs and claws extracted to be sent as materials to blacksmiths. Survival also meant using what the enemy offered you, no matter how gruesome the end result.

    Something began to throb in his side. In the pocket, the magic orb was effortless in sucking in that malignancy. But if there was one thing magic could not do, it was to wash away one''s sins. Those stayed stuck, determined to remain with you forever. ''And you, did you have a name?'' What was now a shapeless mass did not answer him. How could it?

    Gazef''s curiosity was just a quirk. A name. A name was important, wasn''t it? Remembering the name of friends, those with whom you had fought side by side, was simple. It was respect. It was honor and duty. And, in part, it was done with the faint hope that someone would someday return the favor.

    But an enemy? One could be reminded of the valiant general who had shed blood. Of the champion who had mowed down armies. But of the ordinary soldier? Of the one who had seen his head severed with a single sword stroke? Of the archer skewered before he could string his bow? Of the sorcerer who had seen his throat ripped open before he could finish reciting the formula?

    His sword had been indifferent to all those stories. In the last few days, the fighting was getting harder and harder, and fatigue hammered him like a thorn in the side. Just staying awake was a nightmare, the cries on the battlefields an ominous lullaby that resonated with the sweetness of the melody of an old carillon.

    The blood... The blood he had seen was not only of fighters, but also of civilians. He was sure of it...

    Posture, resolution, skill. Mixed in with refined formations were more and more weak links, more and more opportunities to exploit. For someone like him, at least. Or Cerabrate, or Iovino. The heroes¡­

    ''For Gaman? What elsewhere might be a mere peasant , before him turned out to be a ferocious monster.''

    And that monster had taken away a valiant young man. While an old carcass like Gazef was still there. And the worst thing? He alone, there in the midst, would have gladly traded his life for Gaman''s.

    Because the correct choice was not always also the right one.

    "Nice sword."

    He had not noticed that someone had approached him. Iovino was on reconnaissance, and the Crystal Tear on a punitive expedition to a nearby enemy camp with a handful of adventurers. Of all those present, only the aides-de-camp and longshoremen disturbed him in those few remaining moments of meditation. And only on matters of the utmost urgency.

    "Thank you. It was a gift from the queen herself."

    The newcomer had a sharp look, and small, inquiring eyes. Blue hair, from which roots of an even darker color could be discerned. Light clothes, more like a bandit than a soldier. Yet high-value magical objects spread out the whole body. An image carved in contradiction.

    "I doubt it. Excellent trimming, handle enchanted with high magic. Even the energy it emits is not natural. It is more like those for the upper ranks of the Theocracy."

    It was not only the fact that the stranger was able to reveal the lie, but also the naturalness with which it had been disclosed that made him uncomfortable.

    "I don''t think we know each other..."

    Standing at attention, Gazef Stronoff wondered if that was an enemy to watch out for or a new comrade to trust.

    "I was told to look for the captain of this unit. We have mutual friends..." Every word was sharp, despite the atmosphere of placid tranquility that enveloped them. "Are you Stronoff? Gazef Stronoff?"

    The captain still had the blade in his grip. Normally, he would have put it down to offer his hand to that newcomer, but there was something that made him desist. As he approached, Gazef noticed that his interlocutor was also armed. A long, sharp blade, at the same time as thin as fine silk. A delight of pure and fine metal.

    "How do you know?"

    Not a gust of wind passed by, yet the air was chill. The sun was high in the sky, but its rays did not infuse warmth. In the exchange of glances that followed, there was like a sigh of the world, a pause from every moment, from every action.

    "I made a guess," the stranger replied. His mocking smile was one of radiant melancholy. Unperturbed by what might have made it vanish, curious as to what might make it flourish.

    "Your name?"

    There was a slight hesitation, almost as if that question was unimportant.

    "...Brain."

    Gazef recognized that name. "Brain Unglaus! The old captain of the Royal Guard of Re-Estize." A champion, whose skills had been extolled in every corner of that part of the world.

    A sense of excitement bloomed, in wondering what a renowned personality like that was doing in that forgotten place they were now in.

    "You''re wrong," for the first time, the man called Brain looked away. Even without prior knowledge about him, it was not difficult to determine how unusual that gesture was. "I''m just a wanderer. A sword at the service of the highest bidder, trying to give meaning to his craft."

    ''A romantic,'' Gazef thought. ''Or an idiot.'' He did not question why Brain had the need to lie on that very point. Perhaps it was not a lie in the first place? "In any case, nice to meet you."

    Gazef held out his hand, not expecting to be reciprocated. The error in judgment caught him by surprise. Brain''s strong grip sent a chill through his bones, a shiver of perturbation ran on his back.

    "The pleasure is all mine. I''ve heard a lot about you, Stronoff."

    "I only hope for good things."

    A gleam of curiosity sprang from his brown eyes. "Countless. The unwavering guard that holds a kingdom poised on the edge of the precipice. The demihumans'' scourge. The unbreakable wall."

    Too far generous appellations, in the opinion of the captain of the Theocracy. "I am not alone. My comrades and the many adventurers who have waived appropriate compensation have also been very helpful."

    "I don''t doubt it," Brain began to move closer, so close that he could whisper straight into Gazef''s ear. "I did not come alone. Our mutual friends sent someone else. Don''t ask me more, because that''s all I know. They did warn me about one thing, though."

    "What?"

    "There won''t be much left for us to enjoy if we don''t hurry..."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    A repulsive feeling. The pungent odor of vomit mingled with the quartered bowels. The sinking into the flesh required stepping deeper and deeper. The crumbling breath, the dilating pupils, the puff of one last glowing expletive. Then came the realization. What had been accomplished? What would be the next move? The legs were ready to jerk, the arms to move and the eyes to scan.

    There were four-five enemies approaching. The sky above was calm, and the sunset was looming.

    The strident scream of grief from a nearby comrade had to be ignored. The tip of the weapon was still wedged between bone and muscle. A heart that had stopped beating. A gaze that had frozen toward an imprecise horizon. Then came the doubts. ''Am I doing the right thing? For what reason am I fighting? If I do not survive, who will take my place? Who will lead my men?'' They would be driven away as easily as they came, blown away by the ominous breeze of the afternoon. ''Of course I am doing the right thing. I am fighting for others, for their salvation. If I do not survive, there will be those who can take my place.'' Cheap answers for cheap questions, fitting for a cheap man.

    Gazef was not irreplaceable after all.

    He was not a philosopher, or a strategist. He was a soldier. Just as the monster now lying defeated was. The imposing physique now fallen on the ground had lost its fierce frightfulness, the jaw twisted into a sneer suited a jester, not a warrior. The abandoned ax would find no new master. Children, if there were any, would cry out for vengeance. Friends, if there were any, would seek to right that wrong. Enemies, if there were any, would have toasted that end. Then came the silence. That was precious. A second that could last a century, and for that it had to be treasured. What happened in that second? What would occur next? The unknown was a given, but the hope of a new experience knew how to make itself desired.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Some men called it the whore''s kiss. You knew when it would come, you knew what its price was, and most of all you knew you would want a second one after the first, before you would ask yourself ''can I afford it?''

    The answer, usually, was a dry no.

    Finally, there was the smell.

    Smell of shit.

    That was not a euphemism. The intestines turned in on themselves after death, and what came out...was not pleasant. In fact, more than shit it was something even worse.

    Gazef, however, was not an expert in coming up with neologisms or catch phrases. Why strive for something that was not within his competence? So he just called it that, as they all did. The smell that impregnated you like a jealous lover never to leave you again. The smell that only needed to be sniffed once to become unforgettable. The smell that you would have loved to forget, and that would accompany you to the grave.

    The smell of shit.

    ''Three to the right. Two to the left.''

    This time, the raid had gone into territories close to the most populated cities. At that pace, they would have to fall back to Biblo''s fortress once again.

    Gazef looked to his right. Cerebrate and Crystal Tear were holding off a pair of extremely leathery bouffalors. The holy lord''s brittled sword darted like a thunderbolt between the enemy defenses, but failed to establish itself as dominant in the confrontation.

    Another soldier fell to the ground. The stench of shit was unbearable. The Theocracy captain''s rush found no rest in taking down two enemies for every one of his who left that world. The shrieks of pain penetrated the eardrums, leaving behind only a nausea that echoed with disgusting stubbornness. Saliva created lakes of moisture in his throat, and sweat stopped on his eyes, wetting his pupils and digging furrows in his skin.

    It was hot.

    Too hot to be endured in that filth. The armor was a glowing piece of metal, sticking to every extremity, every crevice of the body. The infamous desire to shake it off, to abandon every bit of protection to remain naked in a primal state of arousal caressed the mind. The madness of that chaotic tussle grew with each moment lost in contemplating how much precious was forsaken in those few instances.

    As the wounds piled up, the sword swirled. The song of a siren was less deadly, the dance of an accomplished prima ballerina less enchanting. The drops accumulated, until they became rivers, and the icy, merciless fresco of the massacre was painted in a single, deadly color: crimson.

    ''Ah, but that''s not all.'' Was the landscape red? Was the sunset red, the starless sky? Was that color the primordial sap of life, or just the last remnants of it, now painting its face? Gazef felt a pain in his side, yet he did not flinch. It was a natural reaction now to ignore it. To ignore the pain, as one ignored the voice whispering to stop, to lay down one''s arms, to seek peace.

    The generous warrior hailed by the songs was not there, perhaps had never been there. There was only one man who wanted to protect something, who wanted to do only one thing: kill. And kill he would do. That they had given him victims to sacrifice, young men to avenge, and wrath to impose. That they had found other altars on which to sacrifice young heroes, models to inspire to sacrifice. He was none of these things.

    And then he saw it.

    Brain Unglaus, surrounded. Since their brief acquaintance, they had not exchanged more than a few words. Who was he? Only a wanderer, as he proclaimed? The genius swordsman that Gazef believed? At that moment, he was alone. Those who should have fought by his side had withdrawn.

    Gazef made an approach in his direction, but a horde of horuners blocked him, their bellowings splitting the eardrums. They were so close he could smell their dung breath. The spears that tried to halt the passage broke against his fury, but for each one he knocked down another came to replace it. It was equal to trying to drain a river by drinking a single drop, one at a time.

    "Unglaus, try to resist!" He was not sure if he had been heard. The stance the lone swordsman had taken was unusual, but it did not take a genius to see how much dedication had been refined by it.

    A lump in his throat. Fear?

    "¡ºField]¡»!"

    Gazef managed to hear what was being said, although the distance should have made it impossible. The demi-humans hurled themselves at Brain, but found only one thing waiting for them...

    The technique was so extraordinary to leave breathless. Brain was not moving. Or, at least, he gave that impression. All he needed was one lightning-fast attack to bring down anyone foolish enough to come within range of his blade. A precision so methodical that it would have been appropriate not to call it sword technique, but something even more extraordinary. It was not simple butchery, or devastating power. In a way, it was more like being brushed by a light, soft feather dragged by the morning wind. A caress, similar to what a parent might lovingly give to their offspring.

    A caress, which was enough to bring death, to repel arrows, to deflect spells. When Gazef was able to reach it, the demi-humans found themselves trapped in a vise. On the one hand, merely advancing led to a quick and painless fall. On the other, they faced the last precious seconds with the knowledge that they would not be painless.

    In the end, was there a difference?

    "An excellent martial art!" When they were finished, Gazef congratulated Brain. The enemies were en route, and Cerebrate had led the adventurers to drive them as far back as possible. In the next day, more would arrive, but for today they could rest.

    "I''ve never seen anything like this before."

    "Thank you," Brain slid the sword back into its scabbard, though not before inspecting every inch of it. He was satisfied only when he could ascertain that not even the smallest stain had marred its luster. "My own creation."

    Personalities capable of creating a martial art out of nothing were cloaked in a legendary aura, usually as elusive and incomprehensible just like the one who now stood before him.

    "Admirable. Not everyone is able to reach your level... I was also working on creating my own art, but I have not yet been able to perfect it."

    Curiosity flashed in Brain''s gaze before disappearing just as quickly. "It''s nothing special. Believe me, it''s nothing to be proud of," a pause, to wipe his doughy lips. "But I would be curious to see what you are capable of making, Stronoff. I will wait with anticipation."

    Although there was nothing to say to each other, Gazef felt that they could stay talking for days on end.

    "I have all the more reason to give it my best shot now." They shared a laugh, and that little was enough for Gazef to be able to start considering him a friend.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The taste of beer ran down his palate. Bitter. There was, however, pleasantness in tasting it. Gazef allowed himself a second mug, while Cerabrate was already on his third.

    "Tough day, I wouldn''t like to repeat it." The leader of the Crystal Tear had an unkempt beard, a rarity. His hair had now grown uncombed on the head, and some of the perfection that had previously distinguished him was lost. The armor, of which he had not yet stripped, shone with a golden sheen, the only mark of perfection in his current figure.

    "Very..." The fire they had lit barely warmed. The evening was not cold, in truth. Gazef, however, felt the need to experience the heat on his body. "Is there any news from general Aderbaal?"

    "Not a single one..." Cerabrate spat on the ground, some lumps of roasted meat ended up on the ground with the spittle. "He remains encamped in the fortresses, while we are here to die for him. One shove after another, while he remains locked in the dungeons with those necromancers..." That last sentence was uttered with particular rancor. Obviously, a paladin could have no respect for those who toyed with the undead. At least, we have company. Today there were a couple more, mixed in with the beasts."

    "Undead?" Gazef asked.

    "What else? Our enemy adapts. A few years ago there were only a few of them versed in magic, and now every one of their above average teams has capable spellcasters. If they were to develop their necromantic skills even more ... I don''t even want to think about it."

    Gazef was of the same mind. Still, it was hard to believe that the demi-humans had broken the taboo of necromancy so easily, achieving results in such a narrow time frame. Even the Theocracy had taken decades, as far as he knew, only to get just a handful of experts with not so high regard.

    "We must put an end to this right away so that they can no longer take us by surprise."

    "The scouts and messengers are constantly moving, yet we have no idea where the enemy is."

    After the pitched battle a few months earlier there had been many skirmishes, but nothing comparable to an actual war. Not all the news was bad, though...

    "The quality of enemy soldiers is decreasing. Do you think they are finally beginning to cash in on our offensive?"

    The holy lord let out a fat chuckle, filled with loathing. "I have been fighting the beasts for years... Let me tell you something, Stronoff. They never end. Humans are said to breed like ticks, but there must be a reason they are also said to mate like animals, right?" He no longer looked so much like the glittering warrior Gazef had known a few years earlier. Just a tired man, consumed by a conflict that had no end in sight. Judging him for that would have been unfair.

    "It may be as you say ... but lately the offensives have grown sluggish. We are not fighting disciplined warriors, but poor desperate people."

    "I wouldn''t get too relaxed about that. In fact, maybe it would be better to start worrying. That they are simply trying to wear us down before the actual assault? Ah, maybe we can put an end to this whole thing once and for all."

    Gazef looked at the crackling fire, wondering if his comrade was right. "Do you ever wonder what you would do next? If the war with the demi-humans were to end, I mean."

    Cerabrate looked at him confused, taken aback by something so seemingly trivial. He smoothed his chin, biting voraciously at a second slice of meat. After a few minutes, a banal answer followed. "I don''t know. An adventurer like me doesn''t have many options. Stick with the trade, or retire as a personal guard for some rich lord. Some, the luckiest, or the dumbest depending on your view, go on to train the new generation. I would love to be surrounded by a bunch of brats. Make all their talents blossom, you know what I mean?"

    "In part," Gazef had coached more than one promising youngster, and he understood what it meant to take pride in seeing those to whom he had imparted lessons replicate and expand them. That pride was little, in any case, compared to the heartbreak of seeing someone he had taken to heart lie with his eyes open, looking for help that could not be granted when it mattered the most. "I admit I don''t see you like that, as a teacher I mean. Maybe I''m wrong..." An unpleasant instinct warned him that this would not be the best of ideas. "What about the rest of your team? Have you ever talked to them about it?"

    The Crystal Tear leader cast a furtive glance at the horizon, where the other groups were enjoying a well-earned rest. "No, never. Lilianne and Imilcone have many different opinions from mine... Don''t get me wrong, I would put my life in their hands without hesitation. However, that does not make us friends who share plans and aspirations."

    There was something wrong with this, but Gazef preferred not to go any further. "Have you managed to find a fourth member for the group?"

    "Not yet. Ideally, we would need a cleric, or a priest. Even someone who can fight on the front lines wouldn''t be bad, but quality has been in short supply lately. If only Optics and his people were more reasonable. We could make a great team."

    Optics. The best worker in the Draconic Kingdom, and also a top-notch money lover, Gazef had heard. Cerabrate, despite his shortcomings, had given up any chance to enrich himself to defend his nation. Not all talented people, unfortunately, shared that mentality.

    "Do you think we need more money?" Even without doing the math, the financial situation of the Draconic Kingdom was known to everyone.

    "For sure, but it''s also a matter of risk. Optics believes that the fight against demi-humans is doomed to failure no matter what... He wants to enjoy life as much as possible before they knock on his house, believing he would be able to just get somewhere else when things will really go astray... Fucking idiot."

    It was fortunate that not everyone thought like him. "Do you think it''s hopeless, too?"

    Cerabrate looked at him mockingly. "What''s the matter, Stronoff? Are you afraid? Don''t worry, I will fight to the end. You won''t see me turn my back on the country I love. To the queen I have decided to serve. If the adventurers were only interested in money there would be no difference with the workers. We also act for something else... Something bigger than ourselves. Dreams, aspirations, future. We want to give all this to those we have decided to protect. To those who have decided to call us heroes." It was a patriotic and inspiring speech on the surface, but also not entirely sincere. There was something that was not to be shared, and Gazef could not help but wonder what.

    In any case, he would not spoil the atmosphere with unnecessary pondering. As he looked around, the Theocracy captain could not help but focus his attention on someone who was dining alone.

    "What do you think of him? As a future member of the Crystal Tear..."

    Cerabrate cast his gaze toward the man Gazef was pointing out.

    "The mysterious swordsman?"

    "Yes. I believe his name is Unglaus, like the previous captain of the Royal Guard of Re-Estize."

    The holy lord whistled in astonishment.

    "I had heard that he had betrayed his own nation and died in some hole. Evidently, only part of it was true," getting up, the darkness of the night covered his woeful face. "In any case, I need someone I can trust to have my back. It''s not enough to be skilled to be good companions. Now, if you don''t mind, I have a meeting with my team members."

    Cerabrate walked away, leaving him alone. Gazef stood and watched the fire starting to die in front of him before moving away.

    "May I?"

    Brain did not speak in return, but with a wave of his hand gestured for him to take a seat.

    Silence was as easy to establish as it was difficult to budge.

    "Why are you alone? Haven''t you made friends with anyone?"

    "No."

    Nothing more was added. Gazef wondered if it might not be better to get up and leave. He would have done so if Brain had not resumed the conversation.

    "What are you fighting for, Stronoff?"

    "Me?" It was a fairly routine question, especially for those like them who had entered that profession. "I have thought about it many times, and I like to think I do it to be an inspiration to those who have nothing. By being here, I can show that you don''t have to have illustrious beginnings to be able to make a difference. Some people have called me a hero, and it took me a long time to accept that I was one. Now, I think it is my duty to give credit to their acclaim."

    "I see."

    "How about you?"

    Brain threw a piece of wood into the fire, to feed the flame. The end result made very little difference, to be honest.

    "To become the best part of me."

    "You want to become stronger?" To reach the summit, to observe the world through the eyes of those who had touched its pinnacle. A common aspiration among warriors. An aspiration that Gazef partly shared.

    "Yes, but not only that," Brain ran a hand over his face, to rub his eyes. He did not look sleepy, yet there was a certain weariness about him. "I saw the peak, and I realized how small my horizon was. It''s not so much reaching it, what I want to do. The important thing, at least for now, is to keep walking. Never stop, and keep going."

    "Is that why you are here?" The Theocracy had sent Brain, probably to provide support after withdrawing the scriptures. But what remained to be deciphered was why he had accepted. "Do you think fighting on this front will give you a chance to keep going?"

    The fire crackling in front of them did not compare to the fire now blazing in his eyes. "I don''t know. Probably, it won''t... Not as I wish, at least."

    "Then why come here?"

    "Because I have nothing else. Do you have anything, Stronoff?"

    A kingdom to defend. Friends to count on. People to protect. It was a treasure, Gazef was certain. But placed before that question, his certainties wilted.

    "Yes... I have much to be thankful for."

 Chapter 60: How many men makes an army?

    Chapter 60

    How many men makes an army?

    On queen Oriculus''s adorable face there was no trace of malice. The childish appearance was maintained by eyes that scanned the surroundings with that curiosity typical of youth. Small, delicate hands that grasped the glass gracefully, drumming on it almost as if that sound were a sweet, amusing melody. A porcelain doll would have conveyed the idea of fragility with less accuracy.

    At first glance, at least.

    Behind the innocent look, lay the trained eyesight of a hawk of prey, hiding under a veneer of indifference and naivet¨¦ a maniacal attention to every smallest detail, ready to make every mistake an advantage for the future.

    Being small did not mean being stupid, and growing up in a nest of vipers like a royal court had sharpened the senses to override falsehoods; the teachings of phony smiles and gracious praise had imparted the most important of lessons: trust no one.

    Antilene watched Draudillon in silence as she waited for her to finally decide to open the tiny mouth.

    "So... What are you going to do? It''s been a couple of days since you arrived..."

    The half-elf fiddled with a tuft of unruly hair that was falling over her forehead. The two women were alone in the room, an apartment reserved for members of the nobility visiting the Draconic Kingdom''s capital, now only available to the elf queen.

    Nothing interesting was happening outside. Nothing that had prompted Antilene to leave that comfortable refuge where she had cultivated the pleasant art that was idleness.

    In the outside streets overlooked by the palace terrace stretched the dying vitality of a people resigned to the inauspicious fate plotting in the shadows. The men and women, little ants who filled those narrow spaces and bustled through every alleyway and every crumbling building, had given up basking in the sunlight, walking with their heads lowered and their few possessions tightly clutched, dreading greetings with neighbors, fumbling at every corner, out of dread of what the darkness might conceal.

    Birisia, the capital of the Draconic Kingdom, was a city of death still inhabited by the living.

    "I haven''t decided yet... It would be best to start with an estimate of the enemy forces. I''d rather avoid going back and forth across the nation, so you should try to get them all gathered in one place."

    Draudillon was the type who liked to drink when the agitation kicked in. The naturalness with which she brought red wine to her lips would have impressed even the most frequent patrons of the worst taverns. Just one sip, and the liquid was gone.

    "According to the latest estimates, we''re talking about tens of thousands of demi-humans..." Still, the alcohol did not impair her ability to think rationally. A frowning eyebrow to express disappointment and a furrowed brow to preserve an image of concern. A tone of voice that was meant to express apprehension, yes, but also veiled respect. "I don''t presume to doubt your abilities, Lady Fouche, but we should not be reckless."

    The hem of her dress slipped over her legs in what was almost a bow, subdued only by the memory of their respective positions. One of them was the host, and the other the queen, at that precise moment. The issue was to determine who was who. Antilene found that all-too-tuned devotion annoying and out of place; it did not matter how much necessity dictated it.

    "Ten, a hundred, a thousand. What difference does it make?" Approaching Draudillon, the half-elf felt uncomfortable at how much taller than her she was. An infant of forty and a teen of almost two-hundreds. The two had something in common, after all. "Take a sword, and strike me."

    Draudillon, still a child, distanced herself. The unreasonableness of that demand could only be grasped by those who had learned codes of conduct, etiquette, and even gallantry inside out. "I don''t think I understand. Why should I hit you?"

    Antilene drew a orichalcum sword from her bag and handed it to her, without explanation, simply pointing to her chest.

    "It''s a demonstration."

    The queen hesitated in holding it, and showed more hesitation in hurling herself at the half-elf. But she did so, with unexpected impetus. Justified perhaps by the glare with which she was being urged?

    "The sword..." The orichalcum bended, in contact with Antilene''s skin, who remained unfazed, while Draudillon rubbed the aching hands.

    "See? The workmanship of this weapon was first-rate, but to me it''s like being hit by a pillow. A particularly soft pillow."

    This was not enough to convince the queen, as was to be expected. Otherwise she would not have deserved the crown that rested on her head and the title that defined her persona. "I am not a warrior... And the demi-humans will not be one puny woman..."

    "It doesn''t matter. The only way they can hurt me is to find someone on my level, or a team of slightly inferior individuals. But if there really was, there wouldn''t be a Draconic Kingdom to protect at this point. Of course, caution is never too much."

    There could have been a reason why the beastmen had not pulled out their trump cards. And, according to Sunlight Scripture reports, even a Dominion Authority could not have guaranteed victory. On the other hand, the Black Scriptures had had no trouble clearing the area in the past.

    "To hear you talk, everything is so easy... Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe that decades of problems can disappear with so little effort." A rift in the mask. The queen had given way to the frightened little girl, giving coherence to the image she projected. "No one is invincible, and even the heroes of legends can perish for something foolish. A particular poison, a fulfilled prophecy, an ignored love. Even those who ruled the world in the distant past had to learn to be simple inhabitants of it."

    The dragon''s blood wept with melancholy in that seemingly so fragile creature. Antilene, who carried in her veins the poison that had eradicated her ancestors, noticed an unpleasant irony in noticing how, in the end, it was she who had come to Draudillon''s aid. A centuries-old grudge could turn indifferent with the passage of enough nights and days.

    "You are right," agreed the half-elf, without dwelling on unpleasant memories. "I alone will not be enough. But not for the reasons you think." Near them was a small table, on which sat a glass and drinks brought by the queen herself. Antilene poured herself some grape juice. Sweet, but with a bitter aftertaste that stuck to the palate.

    "What do you mean?" Doubt crept over Draudillon''s features. Very well. Doubt was the bread of the believer, so the scriptures read.

    "One little elf destroying a nation of demi-humans alone... Such news cannot circulate freely in order to avoid unpleasant repercussions. First, we will need heroes to whom we can grant credit and honor."

    As had been done in the Union, but on a grander scale. The war between the Draconic Kingdom and the beastmen was a conflict that had now been going on for years. Simply creating a hero out of thin air would not have been enough. Something more was needed.

    "The two of us have different priorities, obviously. In any case, there are flocks of heroes who might be suitable for such a project..." Draudillon stroked her chin. The smooth, perfect skin slipped between the tiny, soft fingers. "It could bring benefits both in cultivating new talents and keeping out unwanted invaders. On the other hand, a champion of renewed fame entails challengers who will try to steal his glory..."

    "Exactly. So a champion alone will not be needed. Demi-humans will only have to be afraid to approach these lands. But what do monsters fear?"

    Draudillon took a few moments to be able to think, before the realization broke through to her with a swift and swift stroke. "Goblins fear orcs. Orcs fear trolls. There is always a hierarchy... And at the apex there are only creatures... That never don''t mean¡­?"

    It didn''t matter which stories were taken as reference, the conclusion always included an epilogue that was already established. To enter the myth, the hero had to face the embodiment of what was right, or what was wrong. The personification of greed, or wisdom. The details changed, but not the substance.

    The Six Great Gods had done that. The Eight Greed Kings had done it. The Thirteen had done it, and with them countless others. Each legend shared a common element.

    "This is the realm of the Dragon, isn''t it? And there''s a dragon right here in front of me."

    <hr>

    "Absolutely not!" That mighty shout would have imposed itself on a large crowd. In a throne room with only three people, however, it was quite out of place. "I could never allow that! If anything should happen to you, queen Oriculus, not only could I never forgive myself, there would be no future for this entire kingdom!"

    Every window had been sealed, just as closed was the large door leading to the hall. The guards had been dismissed, and the officials excused. Under these conditions, it was difficult to determine from where that icy wind that brought a hostile cold with it was blowing.

    "I know how you feel, but we have no other choice. These are the conditions of Lady Fouche... I must go to the front with her, and convince everyone that the eventual victory was my doing."

    "Too dangerous! When has anyone ever heard of a queen leading troops? I would understand if you were able to defend yourself, but in your condition..." The man continued to adjust his glasses, which kept slipping repeatedly on his nose from too much sweat. Of the two, evidently, he was the drama queen.

    "I am still the protector of this realm, and of the people who inhabit it. This form is only an appearance, my dear Magone..." Queen Draudillon rested her palm on the trusted advisor''s shoulder, gentle in her understanding and at the same time firm in her decision. "If I can guarantee the salvation of just one of my subjects, I have a duty to put my life on the line. In any case, we can no longer go on as we are doing. You know it, as do I."

    "Yes... I know," Magone lowered his head, unable in shame to sustain the gaze of the one he had sworn to serve. "But this is a wager, your majesty. And the stakes are too high."

    "Even if the chances are low, we have to try." Draudillon''s placidity was undercut by a certain agitation, which showed itself in frantic impulses in the ceaseless adjustment of posture on the throne.

    Indifferent to the all-too-lowbrow spectacle, Antilene interjected herself into the discussion. "There was very recently a queen who won a war all alone. And I am living proof of that, if I am not mistaken. Or would you have something to say about that, dear prime minister?"

    Like many men, Magone''s tenacity faltered with a single whisper. Unlike many of his kind, however, in retreating, the prime minister did not just walk away from the half-elf, but stood between his queen and that perceived danger, trembling legs not withstanding. "Perhaps for you, who are a fighter, the idea is exciting. I can smell the blood on your fingernails, and the stench of corpses coursing through your whole being."

    A compliment that did not flaunt too much courtesy. Some, poor fools, might have called it an offense.

    "Magone! This is not how we should treat an honored guest. Take back immediately what you have said..." Even Draudillon''s wrath was not enough to make him retract those words.

    Not that there was anything to portray in the first place. The truth was an insult only to those who could not face it.

    "Your Majesty. If capital punishment awaits me for what I say, I will not hesitate to put my life in your hands. But I beg you, do not listen to what this woman says!"

    Was it not arrogance to think that one''s life was an appropriate bargaining chip for every predicament? An arrogance that was not detestable, in any case, since it stemmed from sincere loyalty.

    "Easy, easy. No one would be so bold as to put on a pike the head of a vassal so loyal as to show his dissent. Isn''t that right, Queen Oriculus?"

    Draudillon nodded, agreeing with what the half-elf said, the blue eyes fixed on the first minister. "Magone, I am grateful for the care you show me. I beg you, however, not to let affection alone cloud your judgment."

    "Your Majesty, what would happen if Lady Fouche were unable to protect you? For all we know, there might be demi-humans capable of defeating even her."

    An all in all reasonable objection, but one that focused on the tree instead of the forest.

    "If there really were, certain doom is what awaits you anyway. At least you would have the warning that will allow some of your people to escape as far away as possible."

    Magone didn''t demur, "A nation does not run itself. The people need their queen to guide them." Such a small man, and he would throw himself into a pit full of vipers at a mere nod from his queen. In any case, too much loyalty could be a negative trait when it clouded judgment.

    "True. But if there is no nation to rule, and no people to lead, what is the task of a queen? A queen plans taxes when there are people who can pay them. A queen settles urgent matters, when there are quarrels to be resolved. A queen plans the economy, moves armies, appoints judges and officials. All this, you will agree, can only be done when there is a foundation on which the kingdom can stand. Our foundations? They have been collapsing for years now. We are not on the edge of a precipice, but we are crashing into the ditch of a cliff. And when we notice the hand trying to catch us before the fall, we cannot flinch."

    The queen forced herself to remain steadfast, monolithic, while the country she represented collapsed under the weight of an evil that could not be eradicated. The gold of the crown was dull, almost as if even its shine had been tried by years of suffering, and the luster it emitted was only a distant memory, now only a forgotten tale.

    Magone bit his lip, looking for the right argument to retort. Plentifulness did not always go hand in hand with reasonableness. "The nobles will protest. There will be confusion and agitation. There may be riots and mass exodus if the common people fear for your lives."

    Stolen story; please report.

    Antilene, who had observed the people of the Draconic Kingdom from afar, could not help but wonder if that grayness was also present on the faces of the nobility, of the soldiers, of the officials, of those who were supposed to be the finest. She saw it, after all, in Magone''s tired pupils and Draudillon''s dull smile, who stubbornly tried to mask thick blanket of fog with makeup and perfume. A meager consolation that equality could only be achieved in misery.

    "I don''t see what''s different from normal. It has been our daily routine since I came to the throne." Draudillon tenderly embraced the prime minister, and despite the fact that she was still in her young form, there was no doubt who among the two was the adult consoling the worried child. "If I can leave the court with a light heart, it is because I know that you will do everything necessary to keep my absence from being felt too much. After all, it was because of your work that things have been able to work for so long."

    Magone, in breaking away, took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes more easily. "Your Majesty jokes far too much. Compared to your sacrifices, my contributions were of almost no impact." Then, turning toward Antilene, he bowed so eagerly that she felt his knees crack under their weight. "Lady Fouche! If you want to execute me for my insolence, I beg you to wait until the end of the war. Once the Draconic Kingdom is safe and I have found a worthy successor you may do with me as you wish. I implore you to protect our beloved queen to the end!"

    Antilene dismissed him with a simple wave of her hand. "If you''re quivering with the urge to pull your head off, that''s none of my business. Rather than waste your time in spurts of martyrdom, help us baste a perfect performance."

    "What Lady Fouche means is that we must find a way to guarantee me credit for the eventual victory," explained the queen. "After the victory, there will be many questions."

    "Tactical genius? A glow that makes the hearts of those who resist shine? Tears that move the enemy to commotion?"

    "Nothing so pitiful. It will be a massacre. Dear prime minister, your beloved queen will make the blood flowing in her veins boil. It is time to awaken the dragon!"

    The man looked first at his queen, then at Antilene, puzzled. "The queen had explained to me in the past that in order to use ancient dragon magic the price to be paid in souls would be exorbitant. What has changed now?"

    "Practically? Nothing," Antilene moved closer to him so that her bright smile could be a source of reassurance. He flinched, probably because not accustomed to such cuteness. "That''s why we need to find a convincing excuse. Why did Queen Oriculus, who could have destroyed the invaders in the blink of an eye, took so long? And what prompted her to act at this very moment?"

    "We could say that the magic used required an enormous amount of mana to accumulate, and it took me years to be able to use it," Draudillon proposed. "Or, alternatively, that there are particular conditions that are only now being met."

    "I don''t know. It might work if our goal was only the present. But we also have to think about what will happen next... Ideally, whoever decides to attack the Draconic Kingdom in the future would think about it more than once. And with such restrictive conditions we would only risk endangering you, Draudillon. After all, following that assumption, it would be enough to eliminate you quickly so that you could not cast this hypothetical destructive magic."

    The difficult thing about politics was to be able to find not only the perfect solutions, but to cast them in an overview that would treasure the lessons of the past and be able to predict with adequate effectiveness the reactions of the future.

    ''All in all, pulling one''s head off is not such a detestable prospect now,'' Antilene thought. The virtue of brutes was far easier to exercise than that of strategists. To excel in both was what was required of the half-elf. Could the Gods have piety on them.

    "So what?" Magone asked. Judging by his expression he was not very convinced of that plan.

    Antilene walked around the empty hall, looking for inspiration. It was irritating with how hard it was taking her to get there. The tapestries on the walls, and the stained glass did not provoke suggestion, and every bit of her imagination was consumed in search of something that had a vagueness of meaning.

    "It''s simple," she said, after more than one deep breath. "We will say that someone or something made you able to use your sleeping power. An awakening that happened in a place steeped in magic, or an ancient weapon found in a hidden cave. Everyone loves stories like that."

    It was not unusual for some beings to develop extraordinary powers late in life. That was what happened to the leader of the thirteen heroes after all. Genealogy and Draudillon''s illustrious ancestor would make the lie even more feasible. Moreover, it was a great hope for those who still had confidence in their growth.

    "It might work, but we should also be able to create a proper justification."

    "That will come when the time is right," Antilene clapped her hands, happy to have that matter settled. The most exciting part was yet to come. "If there''s nothing else, I''d say we can start the preparations."

    "One thing," Magone raised his arm as shyly as a schoolboy who wanted to ask an awkward question. When the half-elf gave him permission to speak, he said, "You would need someone who can protect Her Majesty in case you are too busy with other matters, Lady Fouche. No one can be in more than one place at the same time. This is the only condition I make to give my assent."

    Antilene sustained that fearful, yet unyielding look. Although he had reason on his side, it had taken courage to stare at her with such intensity. The half-elf''s opinion toward the prime minister shifted to a more favorable one.

    "You are right," she sighed, acknowledging defeat. "Do you have anyone in particular in mind? It would have to be someone trustworthy, and able to keep his mouth shut. If I am not mistaken, there is a very famous adventurer in your employ. Could we try asking him?"

    "No way," unexpectedly, Draudillon rejected the proposal with ferocity and... disgust? Was there some past that should not be delved into, or was it just a blunder? "Cerabrate and the Crystal Tear are indispensable at the front. Withdrawing it for my personal safety could send the wrong message to those few adventurers who are still willing to fight on credit for us."

    Draudillon''s experience as ruler shone through with such considerations, for Antilene could never have been aware of such delicate balances. No one would have been able to deny that the Draconic Kingdom also managed to endure because of such brilliant leadership.

    "Your Majesty, this also makes Stronoff ineligible for the task."

    Gazef Stronoff. The half-elf had a vague recollection of the warrior who had achieved considerable fame in such a short time. She would have liked to meet him again, to be able to form an opinion more relevant to reality.

    The little queen lowered her head, prey to an unexpected melancholy. "You are right... It would be inappropriate to recall our hero..."

    "Is there no one else available? Does the Draconic Kingdom have only two individuals who can bear the title of hero?"

    "There would be someone. However..."

    "However?"

    Draudillon looked away, directing her gaze toward an unknown horizon. "It will not be easy to convince him."

    Antilene clutched her shoulders. After all, she had been the one who had taken charge of the future of that broken kingdom. There was no turning back now. "Tell me where to find him."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    Inns were the perfect places to hold a meeting.

    The tacit agreement that underlay between owner and customers fostered the serene and peaceful atmosphere where personal interests could align with various business deals. As long as one was ready to discuss peacefully, everyone would ensure that any negotiations would be conducted in full politeness and the most cordial serenity.

    If tones became more heated, on the contrary, two simple alternatives were presented: a door leading outward, so as to leave out issues that could not be resolved by mere words, or one could make acquaintance with any bright personality who had decided to accept that implicit social pact. Masnadiers, criminals, and workers, however, were unaccustomed to the gallantry of the ballrooms and tea salons of the nobility, although many of them had entered them more than once to settle certain matters that could hardly be dealt with in the light of day.

    "Are you comfortable here, my lady?"

    Antilene had waited at the table to which the innkeeper had led her. To call it a table was far too generous. There were pieces of wood present in the nearby forests with better workmanship.

    More than half an hour had passed since the time set in the appointment before anyone had addressed her. Evidently, her conception of punctuality was different from the one common in such places.

    "The milk is spoiled, and the fruits rotten. I feel more stares on me than a priest in a brothel, and the background music is less pleasant than the yowling of a horde of cats in heat."

    Red eyes that zeroed in on her peered deep. The man to whom they belonged sat a few feet away, on a stool that could remain whole under that minimal weight only by some divine intervention.

    "My lady, I can tell you''re not from around here. No one would talk like that, except to give themselves an air of the world, which, unfortunately, is absent." The man''s scarlet hair moved, lulled by the countless drafts that penetrated the falling walls. He too, like the half-elf, accompanied his speech with a glass of milk, which he savored with relish. "Goat''s milk. It''s a rarity in these parts lately. I wouldn''t be too picky. People around here are simple, but proud. They may misinterpret what was a simple observation about the food."

    Antilene looked around. The half-elf counted at least a dozen different individuals keeping an eye on her, five so blatant as to be in plain sight, five more shrewd in their caution. It was unlikely that there were any others, but she remained prepared to be amazed.

    "You''re right," she stroked her earring, almost an instinctive gesture. "Forgive my rudeness, messer Optics. As you may have observed, I''m not from around here."

    The man laughed. It was a sympathetic laugh, one that exuded an unexpected joy, and that it had been coached to bring a sense of familiarity to anyone who would listen. Indeed, everything about Optics gave the impression that it was designed to make whoever interacted with him at ease. "My lady, there is no need to apologize. This is a gentleman''s refuge. An emissary of the queen will be treated with full honors, I can assure you. I admit to being surprised. I was convinced that Her Highness had judged my fee too exorbitant for her pockets, yet when my contact explained that she wished to indulge my services I rushed, I admit, with the frenzy of the pet seeing its master again after a long time."

    That shelter of gentlemen -and gentlewomen- stank to high heaven and led one to wonder if there were walls separating from the stables. It was not raining, so the drops falling from the ceilings could not have been simple water. The songs playing were obscene, and the atmosphere of feverish drunkenness mingled with the fat high-pitched giggles of the frequenters of that hovel.

    Dragon''s Breath, that inn was called, and one could not help but wonder if it was simply how much was left after a hellish blaze.

    "I am glad of it. From what I''ve had the pleasure of hearing, your sword blade is the best the Draconic Kingdom has to offer."

    Optics did not change his expression; it was only the twinkle in his eyes that made it clear he had sniffed out the deal. "I don''t want to brag. The Holy Lord is also a first-rate champion. And although I have not had the pleasure of meeting him, Sir Stronoff is also described as an extraordinary hero." The slender body flexed, invigorated by a strange feeling of pride. "Of course, none of them could be as useful as I am for certain matters." His left hand slowly slid to the scabbard of a thin blade attached to his leather pants, up to that point kept duly in the background. Some men had a bad habit of wanting to show their blade too quickly.

    "And what could you be useful in?" Antilene inquired, intrigued.

    "Assassination. Kidnapping. Theft. Extortion. Even simple threats. Anything that a person as respectable and integral as our beloved queen would have no problem declaring indecent. If there is someone or something that needs to disappear, my services will ensure that all traces become only a distant memory."

    How many of those shady deals had he entertained over the years? Yet behind the arrogance and complacency, the worker resembled more than just a carrion-feeding jackal. Rare talents like his, after all, were in demand everywhere. Why stay in the Draconic Kingdom of all places? For some strange love of his homeland? Highly unlikely. Like everyone, Optics carried secrets he did not want to share openly. This made him painfully ordinary.

    "None of that," replied Antilene, as she tried to get a clear idea of the one before her. Other than his weapon, no armor to protect him, and the few magical items he carried were valuable, yes, but nothing exceptional. The doublet that covered him had streaks of silver, and the pants did not give the impression of being very worn. "Queen Oriculus has no domestic enemies. You should be aware. Her attention is turned to other dangers."

    For a single, fluttering instant the elegance of the swordsman''s movements were seized by uncertainty. The smile that gave nothing away became overshadowed by an almost imperceptible concern, and the posture -hitherto straight and soaring- curved. His head bridged the small distance between them, as he muttered a simple warning.

    "Caution, my lady. Such talk can be frowned upon in certain circles."

    Antilene, who had nothing at all to fear, merely raised her voice, curious about the possible reaction. "Is the king of swindlers afraid? I had intended that the Blazing Crimson team had gained its renewed fame mainly because of your skill."

    Everything stopped. The music ceased. The people in the inn hushed. There was no need to turn around to realize that every eye was on her. Optics'' cronies waited only for a nod before acting, as the hall began to fill little by little.

    "It would be foolish not to," Optics regained his composure, signaling to his peers to stop whatever dastardly plan they were about to enact. Antilene was grateful that she had been spared an unpleasant inconvenience. "I had already been clear in the past, though. The extermination of demi-humans requires a much higher reward than normal. And that does not allow for compromise."

    "I have many methods to be able to convince you."

    The Blazing Crimson leader swallowed, having taken the hint. Only a glance had been enough to realize the abyss that separated them, but managing not to flee in panic was testament to his steadfastness of spirit. Or stupidity. "I don''t doubt it, my lady. Assuming you are able to convince me by force, what then? In my work there is something inescapable, which no act of violence can erase."

    "What?"

    "Trust, of course. Workers are mercenaries first and foremost. And, unlike adventurers, we are not blinded by dreams of glory and honor. Compel me by force, and I assure you that I will flee at the drop of a hat the first opportunity I get."

    And he signaled to take off his hat, even though he wore none. Antilene allowed herself a smile. "You''re right. Listen to my proposal, then. And then I''ll let you decide. Before you do so, however, I request that you tell your friends to leave us alone."

    Optics tickled his chin, before standing up. Within a short time, only the two of them remained.

    "Let''s hear the proposal."

    "It''s simple," the half-elf tried to find a way to achieve comfort in that chair, but such a feat proved impossible even for her. "The queen is going to the front, and she needs a bodyguard."

    Antilene had not finished uttering those words when Optics began to head for the door.

    "Hey, where are you going?" She called him back, managing to get him to stop a few steps from the doorway.

    "My lady, if you want to kill me, do it now. Because this is the craziest proposal I have ever heard in my years of honorable career."

    As to be expected, putting a leash on a wolf was not as simple as a dog. First, it was necessary to make him understand that there was no difference.

    "Why are you so sure of that?"

    Optics took a few steps back, returning to an acceptable distance, but still close enough to the door to be able to duck out if necessary. As if it would change anything.

    "If the wine has finally gone to Her Majesty''s head, I greatly lament it. Nevertheless, I see no reason to sacrifice my life for a woman''s suicidal instincts." It was not cowardice. The scales were simply unbalanced.

    "No suicidal instincts," reassured Antilene. "Your presence will be merely decorative. A frill to show off on a new evening gown. The war will end soon, and we need just someone to stand by her majesty Oriculus in case of danger. In all likelihood, you won''t even have to draw your sword."

    "You seem to believe what you say, my lady. But to survive in this field as long as I have, information is as precious as water. And until a few days ago the war was all but on the verge of ending. Pray tell, what has changed now?"

    "Me," said the half elf. "Now I''m here."

    "My lady..." but Optics found nothing else to object to. It was as if every argument he could baste was dismantled even before it became reality, dissipated by the mere presence of Antilene. "A worker does not make his services available without proper compensation."

    In the end, it was the only defense he had left. Was it money that made the man act? It could be called a foregone truth. It was not, however, complete.

    "Currently, any auxiliary volunteer of the Draconic Kingdom can claim the materials of the monsters they defeat. A demi-human, depending on his or her race, can provide furs, claws, fangs or other body parts for resale to various fences. This is without considering various armors or weapons they may carry with them. Depending on the level of difficulty, then, the price may rise."

    "Call it a bargain! It is the norm for any adventurer or worker devoted to the extermination of monstrous creatures. Even the corpse of a few chieftains is not worth the candle."

    Yes, normally that rule was practically useless, given what was at stake. It was kept simply to guarantee at least a minimum for those who put their lives on the line for the defense of the Draconic Kingdom without nothing but a ''thank you''.

    "I''m not offering you a handful. Agree to join this expedition, and I will give you in return all that would be rightfully mine, with just a small reserve."

    After all, there was always a chance that one of the invaders might have one of the old world tears with them. Or some other relics too valuable to get in the hands of miscreants.

    "How much are we talking about? At least to get an estimate," Optics, finally, showed interest. The opportunity was beginning to dawn on him. "A hundred, depending on the quality, could fetch a pretty penny. A thousand, if we want to exaggerate, could ensure a life of comfort for a family for generations. Of course, there is the time required to resell everything to be considered."

    Of those issues, nothing really mattered to Antilene. Her response was a simple statement of fact.

    "All of them."

    "I beg your pardon, my lady... I don''t think I understand. Can you repeat?"

    "I''m saying that all the invaders will be exterminated by me."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

 Chapter 61: the ruler of dust is still a queen?

    Chapter 61

    The ruler of dust is still a queen?

    Black tears flowed down to the bottom of the heart.

    Endless pain.

    An excruciating feeling of disgust.

    Words could not express the hurt in her.

    How far could that suffering go?

    Draudillon did not recognize the figure in the mirror. She had left her maidenly remains in the past, hoping to never see them again. Regaining possession of her body, of the body that was supposed to be her own, no more tears would mar her face.

    ''I am not a dragon,'' she told herself, as she ran her fingers over the first hints of wrinkles, signs of a sincere beauty that needed no magic to hide. ''In part, it scares me. Who is she whom I see?'' The tight corset across the chest took her breath away. The evening gown, pearly purple, accentuated the skin''s luster.

    "You''ll have to be perfect if our plan is to succeed."

    Draudillon allowed herself a smile, to benefit from that image. The image of a woman in her forties, nothing more. She did not want to be anything more. But she was a queen. She was a protector. She was a savior. And she had to be a dragon.

    "I know. I''m not good at invoking miracles," The old queen performed a slow pirouette, so she could better inspect herself in the reflection. The glass projected a dream that was different from reality. "What is missing? The make-up? Nail polish? The lips are not very shiny..."

    A dragon, who did not hover in the sky. A dragon, who did not spit flames. A dragon, whose magic did not go beyond troubadour tricks. A dragon, whose miracles required a cost.

    "What is the cost of your miracles?"

    Antilene Heran Fouche. A queen, like her. Queen of the elves, protector of Evasha, savior of two races. Of men, and of elves.

    The elves.

    Until recently upstanding enemies of the human race. Now brothers united in the same cause, the cause of Slaine. The best part of an inflexible doctrine was its convenience.

    The elves.

    So identical to humans, yet so different from them. What characterized men? The shape of the face, the color of the skin, the strength of the limbs, the alertness of the intellect? None of these. It was experience. The experience of men was not the same as that of elves. What a subtle difference. A difference so profound.

    "The soul."

    Who was Draudillon to judge? The oath placed on her neck by the Theocracy was a symbol of her enslavement. Slavery as the only source of salvation. The Cardinals could have asked her to pull out her nails and gouge her teeth just for their delight, and her only concern would have been to please them.

    Who was Draudillon? A puppet in the hands of a faith that was not her own. One had to believe in something. She had chosen to believe in the salvation of those she loved.

    "Every soul, you say? Could you snatch mine, this instant, to cast your spells?"

    Those eyes, one white and one black, peered with the curiosity not of the scholar but of the warrior. It was not the thirst for knowledge that moved them, but the instinct for survival. That instinct that could not afford to leave anything to chance, and that dictated appropriating anything that could provide even one more second at the fatal juncture.

    "That would be too easy. And it would make me invincible, wouldn''t it?" Instead, Draudillon was weak. So weak, that being called a dragon could only be the joke of someone who lacked a refined sense of humor. "Although your people call me Dark Scale Dragon Lord, I have never understood why. To take possession of a soul is something extremely difficult. It is a complicated process, which first requires acceptance of the target. Who would give up their essence, the innermost part of their individuality, for the benefit of another?"

    Perhaps there was someone, thought the queen of the Draconic Kingdom with a note of regret. The answer was so close it could be grasped with the fingertips. At the same time, it was so far away to be out of reach.

    "Yet, you manage to change your form with the ancient magic. How do you do it?"

    Queen Fouche was, on the surface, younger than her. She had inherited longevity from her father, the former king of Evasha. That Decem Hougan about whom so little was known except the most atrocious deeds. The one who had brought the Theocracy and his own people to their knees, wrought terror to his enemies to the same extent as he had imparted it to his subjects. He had made blasphemy his creed, and cruelty his law.

    And the daughter of that tyrant now stood before the old queen, watching her closely. Not as an emissary of the Theocracy, nor as a sovereign of the wooden sea. Only as a helping hand, offered without ulterior motives.

    Draudillon couldn''t read her intentions.

    "It is not only the soul of others that serves as fuel. If I am careful, I can consume part of mine without suffering too many consequences."

    "Consume one''s own soul?" Antilene appeared confused by that explanation, intrigued by that contradiction. "It''s not... strange? You mean you give up part of you, but then what happens to your soul? Does it remain divided in this way? Or does it return to its original state?"

    It was a legitimate question, one that Draudillon herself had asked herself more than once in the past. "It is difficult to explain, but the principle is the same as for ordinary spells. Just as a sorcerer''s mana returns to its original state after sufficient time, the soul follows the same dynamic. Perhaps, simply, what the ancient dragons call soul is just an ancestor of the energy used by sorcerers, priests and other spell users."

    Not a convincing explanation, all things considered, but the means at hand were what they were. Her grandfather had been very reluctant to explain the intricacies of those dynamics in the past, and a vexing haze lingered over the most intricate parts.

    "So when you get souls to offer you can cast more powerful spells, just as you can use over-magic to access a higher tier..." It was amazing how easily Antilene understood such complicated concepts with so little details. A sixth sense, heightened on the battlefield, which Draudillon inevitably lacked. "So, for example, your grandfather should not be able to cast over-magic spells on his own, am I right?"

    "Not really. The amount of my soul is not comparable to that of an ancient dragon like my grandfather. The difference is the same as between a fire and a dying candle." That was why beings like the Brightness Dragon Lord or the Platinum Dragon Lord were considered transcendent compared to other living beings. They did not play on the same plane of existence as ordinary mortals. "Although..."

    Looking at the half-elf, Draudillon could not help but wonder how much needed to be shared. Today''s friend could be tomorrow''s enemy, a mantra every good ruler knew inside out.

    Could that girl so fragile and slender in appearance be trusted? And if so, how far could that trust extend? The Six knew no mercy for their enemies, let alone their friends. The dragon''s blood pulsed with a warning of distrust, but the human heart beat in appreciation.

    "Continue," that suggestion, expressed with utmost calm, rang more like an order.

    Antilena was young, yet ancient. Where there were affable and concise manners, an unrelenting viciousness could be glimpsed. A pleasant darkness, which succeeded in putting you at ease and making you forget its cruelty.

    "Once Grandfather hinted at a ''blasphemy,'' though I don''t know much about it. Something to do with stealing and undeath."

    At times, one could get the impression that great intellects like those of the Brightness Dragon Lord found pleasure in withholding information.

    "Undeath..." The half-elf repeated that word a few times. Pronounced by her it sounded more baleful than it already was. "An undead dragon..."

    There was a knock at the door. A soft one, given almost timidly.

    Antilene went to open it. Optics, covered head to toe in scarlet armor, leaned in a graceful bow.

    "My ladies, they are waiting for you." The man, who hadn''t even met the half-elf''s gaze by mistake, entered the room like a hurricane without too many compliments, neither waiting for a nod of assent from his superior.

    "General Barca is understanding," an annoying breeze had entered along with the worker. Draudillon had to place a dark shawl over her shoulders for protection. She envied her peer, who wore comfortable clothes suitable for the occasion. "Please, Optics, be so kind as to tell him that we will not be kept waiting any longer."

    The worker there and then did not give the impression that he understood, for he remained motionless. There was something in the way he looked at her that made Draudillon uncomfortable. It was not the lust that moved Cerabrate''s eyes, nor the impassive firmness with which Stronoff challenged your convictions.

    "My lady. I am your bodyguard, not your valet," Optics took a chair from a nearby table and sat down without too much ceremony, unblemished by such idiotic concepts like etiquette. "I will descend with you, to make sure there is no danger from here to the general''s council chamber."

    Draudillon sighed, regretfully admitting that he was right. "Very well. At least wait outside. I have to finish getting ready." In a way, the lack of formality was refreshing. A rope would not break until it was pulled too tight, or so the queen believed.

    Evidently, she had not yet gotten to know the leader of Crimson Blaze¡­

    "Can''t I just watch?" The worker had taken an apple from a fruit plate placed as a welcome token on a nearby table, and had begun to bite into it without even asking permission, while draping his legs over a nearby chair. "I must admit that I much prefer you in this form, your majesty. I never understood what people saw in such a... un-juicy appearance."

    Draudillon didn''t need the mirror to realize a fire had ablaze in her cheeks. She shot a pleading look for help at Antilene, who simply shrugged her shoulders, as if to say ''this is a problem you have to deal with on your own''.

    The half-elf had limited herself to looking out of the window. Gelone''s fortress certainly didn''t offer a spectacle as full of life as the capital Birisia, but that military camp life was probably still a source of interest to her.

    Left alone, and trying to regain her composure, the queen approached the man. "I agree with you. This aspect is much more congenial to me. If you are so interested in observing it, please stay. After all, we are attracted to what we cannot have."

    Optics couldn''t have been much younger than her, but he still had a face that showed traces of a contemptuous audacity, without the need for magic or the like. It was clear that he didn''t care much about seeing her in private, rather he was looking for a reaction that would confirm the established idea he had formed of her.

    "As you wish. Then I will stay here." Satisfaction appeared on those thin lips. His scarlet eyes lit up with respect and, perhaps, something else.

    ''Wasn''t this the moment when he would recognize my authority and leave?'' Defeated, Draudillon could only return to the final preparations.

    She noticed Antilene who was sniggering a few meters away from her. With a sigh, all she could do was hurry.

    <hr>

    Many things were expected of a queen.

    A queen had to be able to manage a room full of nobles who hated each other with the same grace with which she could follow the rhythm of a classical dance. In addition to this, she had to be able to interpret diplomatic language, calm tempers, calibrate the measure of praise and, if necessary, be assertive.

    A queen couldn''t afford to make mistakes. When she was spoken to, she had to know the past of the person she was talking to, the present of his situation and the future of his condition. "How are you?", "How are things in your possessions?", "How is your son''s education going?". Many "hows", few "whys". A queen''s questions could not be direct, but subtle. They had to be slipped into a trivial conversation, drawing from pure formality the facets of the diners and of those who came to pay her homage.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    If all these duties had been listed one by one, it would have been noticed that they often contradicted each other. How could one be tough and inflexible and be loved for it? How could one react to insults with calm, to poison with honey?

    "Your Majesty, let me start by admitting that I wasn''t aware of your visit."

    From that point of view, interacting with the soldiers was easier. When Draudillon walked through the door of General Barca''s study, there were no valets to announce her arrival, or deafening trumpets to sound the party of her walk. As if a simple walk would have needed musical accompaniment and every step required the blare of a fanfare. The windows were boarded up, and only a couple of lamps on the walls provided any light or warmth. A reassuring silence was the background noise.

    The old soldier''s expression was clouded by a veil of concern, and the inquiry for this unexpected visit was clearly readable in his eyes. Every now and then, almost surreptitiously, he would scratch his chin, where one could still see small traces of a quickly-tended beard.

    "It was unexpected for me too." A vase of flowers had been placed on the desk - violets at a first glance - perhaps to add a little scent and color to an otherwise bare room. "Lately, there have been many surprises."

    "I can confirm that. I am dismayed that I was unable to prepare a reception worthy of you, Your Majesty. Forgive your servant for such carelessness."

    It would have been even more bizarre if he had succeeded, in Draudillon''s opinion. Barca was descended from an ancient family of the Draconic Kingdom, but that didn''t mean he could perform extraordinary gestures with the few means at his disposal. There was a limit to how much could be demanded of one person.

    "There''s no need to regret something so trivial," perhaps the queen had been vain in dressing so flamboyantly, given the bare nature of her surroundings. A wave of regret took her breath away, as she realized the inadequacy of the means of those who died for her. "In fact, the fewer people who know of my presence here, the better it is for everyone."

    "Is this a secret mission, then? Is that why those two are here with you?" Antilene and Optics, standing by the doorframe, gave off a ghostly presence that needed no words to express danger. A veteran could feel death freezing the air without the need for further gestures.

    There were no servants, so it was the general himself who poured them a glass of wine, taken from a bottle on a shelf near his desk. The half-elf politely declined, while the worker accepted even a second later after gulping down the first with not so unexpected haste.

    "Just insurance against danger, but I''ll be the main actress in this play, if you know what I mean." The sweet and bitter aroma of the drink shocked her. After the first sip, Draudillon was already disgusted. It was possible to come to hate the very thing that had filled your heart until just a short time before.

    General Barca allowed himself a long moment before speaking. "Your Majesty, I''m not used to jokes. Forgive me if I get straight to the point and appear a little rude. Why are you here? Do you not trust the reports sent? Have the rabbims said anything worrying? For my part, I can assure you that things are proceeding as always. Not well, because they never proceed as we would like. But they are proceeding."

    Which could mean anything or nothing. In any case, Draudillon had memorized everything the emissaries had referred to the court. She was suspicious of every report, because doubt was protocol and distress, courtesy. "I''m aware of that. I''m not here on an inspection visit. As of today, I''m taking a leading role in the conflict. A conflict that I hope to see end before the end of spring."

    The general stared at her. The adult form, compared to the childlike one, had an advantage: it inspired fear and awe when necessary. Only time could have determined if that was preferable to affection and the desire for protection.

    "Is this a joke? Am I supposed to laugh? You''ve always left military affairs to the great generals like me. Has something not satisfied you recently? Things have held up until now with this method."

    "Things change," she simply said.

    The general frowned, with the perplexity that was to be expected after such a simple statement. "Your Majesty, the demihumans have recently been becoming much more aggressive."

    "I know."

    "It could be dangerous."

    "I know."

    "We are losing soldiers everywhere. Soon the whole western part of the kingdom will have fallen into enemy hands."

    "I know that too."

    "You still don''t have an heir..."

    There was no need for heirs if there was no future. There was no need for worry if there was nothing left to protect. There was no need for anything if nothing remained. Draudillon knew all this. She had known it since she ascended the throne. She knew it every day when she counted those who offered themselves as sacrifices. She knew it every hour, when she agonized over the looks that hid pain behind smiles and sweet talk, pain that they didn''t want to reach her. She knew it every minute, when she woke up, when she ate, when she spoke, when she rested. There was no respite, no pause, in that knowledge.

    "Have you decided to give up everything? One last advance led by you? Is madness clouding your mind, or is there something else?"

    "There is something else."

    The queen approached the general. Even though they were alone, she didn''t want what she was about to explain to be heard by indiscreet ears. "I found some of my great-grandfather''s writings about an ancient ritual. Something forbidden and dangerous, but that could turn the whole situation around."

    Skepticism could easily turn into surprise. It was like a change of clothes. Until that moment, the general had worn the clothes of the distrustful. Now, he was wearing the garments of the curious. "The great founder? I knew you were able to replicate some of his skills, but I thought you couldn''t go beyond precise and well-defined limits?"

    "What would happen if these limits no longer existed?"

    Antilene approached the table. Could the general see beyond these lies simply by observing the half-elf? Draudillon, expecting a stunned reaction, tried to imagine what the world would be like when observed through the eyes of others. The result was not pleasant.

    "I''m not sure I can fully comprehend the implications of such statements. Ancient magic? As a soldier, I have learned about magic that can heal limbs, increase courage, enhance the mind and body, and launch devastating attacks. But I have also seen that same magic fail, be insufficient in the face of brute force, or too slow and impractical to guarantee victory. Your Majesty, you speak to me of ancient magic, and as a subject who does not look away from what is happening around us, I cannot help but hope for the goodness of this arcane secret..."

    And as a soldier? And as a man? No one was just one thing. General Barca was only showing one face, wondering if it was appropriate to bring the shadows of his thoughts on the exposed surface.

    "It will work," Antilene said. When the half-elf spoke all doubts quietened, and convictions arose from simple claims. "And even if it didn''t¡­ Do you have anything to lose?"

    ''Who is this woman?'' The man''s raised eyebrow posed that question. ''What is she doing here?'' ''What does she know about our battle?''

    "No. Nothing," his head drooped, curiosity unsatisfied. Some things were better left unknown.

    "If this doesn''t work, the Draconic Kingdom will truly have lost all hope," Draudillon continued. Repeating it out loud was strangely comforting. "I can''t reveal anything else. I can only ask for your help."

    The general''s breathing became labored, and as his fingers traced across a well-worn map, it seemed that his years - too many, for someone in his position - had decided to present a bill for accumulated fatigue that had been put off for too long. "If I may remind you, Your Majesty, the current offensive operations are being managed by General Aderbaal after the last council of the nobility. At the moment, my competence stops at preventing the demihumans from going too far into the more populated areas."

    "I know, but Aderbaal doesn''t have your experience," and, as a prot¨¦g¨¦ of the more conservative part of the nobility, his loyalty could not be completely assured. "What I need is someone who is able to predict the beastmen''s moves, so that I can gather them all in one place. Once I''ve acquired my grandfather''s secret magic I should be able to eliminate as many enemies as possible, so as to settle the matter once and for all."

    If she had repeated that lie enough times, would it have come true? A prayer could also be answered in a different way from the supplications invoked.

    "It won''t be easy. We don''t have much information about demihuman culture and customs, but from what we''ve managed to gather over the years it is, although there is a figure similar to our monarchy, a social structure still very much divided into separate tribes, where each small chief has a significant degree of autonomy."

    In short, there was a risk that they couldn''t all be lured with the same bait. Draudillon looked sideways at Antilene, who was smiling devilishly. A pure wave of cold ran down her spine, bones frozen by an intolerable tension.

    "Then it''s simple. We''ll just have to tempt them with something that every little boss desires. Not only to increase their power, but also to prevent their competitors from becoming too dangerous." The half-elf tapped Draudillon on the shoulder, who felt a strange, disturbing thrill on contact. The weight of a star had rested on her; how to describe it if not unbearable? "It will be a race against time, the finish line and prize of which will be chosen by us. All that remains is to spread the word among our enemies. That will be your job, General Barca."

    The man nodded, while the queen could only pray that things would go well.

    But when did they ever?

    <hr>

    It had been a long while since she had looked at the sky. When Draudillon looked over her gaze, she realized that the darkness of the night could be pleasant and capable of bringing comfort to a troubled soul. The queen had given up elegant clothes for a simple nightgown, made of purple satin that caressed her skin.

    Antilene had taken her leave with a simple, formal phrase.

    "See you tomorrow," and then she had left, nobody knew where. If Draudillon still had the energy to worry, she would have asked herself a thousand unanswered questions, formulating just as many wrong answers. The only thing that worried her at the moment was the pillow on which she would soon be placing her head.

    There was only one problem...

    "Would Your Majesty like anything? You''re missing out on something special, this fruit is exceptional. And this wine is a delight."

    Optics, whose table manners one hoped were not a reflection of his skill with a sword, helped himself to what had been offered as dinner. Draudillon''s stomach churned at the mere contemplation of the scene.

    "Thank you, but I don''t have much of an appetite right now."

    In response, he took an apple from one of the plates and began to peel and cut it into many small slices. "Take it," his tone allowed no reply. "Starting tomorrow, we have a long journey ahead of us. And I don''t intend to concern myself with your health either. If we have to run, I expect your legs to be swift. From now on, no less than three meals a day. Don''t worry, your figure won''t suffer."

    The queen hesitated, avoiding a comment on that last statement, glaring at her protector''s hands before accepting. They were veiny and full of calluses, and to the touch they gave the impression of squeezing the trunk of an oak tree. "Are you worried about me?" She didn''t know why she had asked. Draudillon simply felt that if silence fell over them, nothing else would disturb them. And part of her didn''t want to admit that she was afraid of it.

    "I''m worried about my fee. That elven girl will make me pay if anything happens to you while she''s not around."

    There was something very underhanded about it, but Draudillon didn''t know where that impression came from. Perhaps there was just a glimmer of hope that that man was more than he pretended to be. "I haven''t had the chance to offer you my gratitude yet. Our mission is important, and it wasn''t a given that you would decide to join us. On behalf of the Draconic Kingdom, I thank you for the services you are providing."

    "There''s no need for you to hang your head, Your Majesty. You should thank that elf girl. Such an idiotic proposal from anyone else would have been met with the necessary and appropriate laughter. But not even an undead would laugh at her."

    It was true.

    "Don''t say that about Lady Fouche. She''s... peculiar. Interesting, I might add."

    "Terrifying, I would venture to counter."

    Although it would have been appropriate to find something to retort, when in agreement even a simple gesture of politeness turned out to be difficult. "She''s our only hope."

    The warrior''s scarlet eyes remained dull. Optics'' smiles, laughter and carefree gestures could not suppress that flash of contempt. Contempt which, strangely, was not directed at her. That would have been preferable.

    "I don''t think it''s the foreigners who have to save us..." That statement sank in like a knife.

    "If there''s no one else, who can we rely on? Pride gets us nowhere. If you..."

    Draudillon didn''t continue. If you... what? If Optics had fought on the front line from the very beginning, would anything have changed? Or would there be another on her conscience? One more, one less. What difference did it make?

    The realization that they were alone in that moment became concrete when the worker got up and approached her. Antilene still didn''t show herself, and no one else in the fortress could stop the man.

    Optics continued to stare straight into her eyes. Draudillon tried hard to maintain her gaze, to keep her body as firm as an immovable rock. There was no one, she thought once again. They were alone. Alone, with the certainty that no one would come running at the right moment. Was that the fear? The same fear that her subjects felt every day?

    "If I¡­?"

    That man could devour her. The queen swallowed, but did not retreat.

    "If you and many others had not been consumed by greed, perhaps things would not have precipitated to this point."

    She couldn''t impose sacrifices. She couldn''t ask for death without offering anything in return. It wasn''t selfish to want to keep your own life safe. It was unfair to accuse those who were not to blame. The only one to condemn was her, Draudillon Oriculus, the inept queen who could do nothing but watch those who died for her. Yet the hatred that welled up, that hatred that was only for herself, pleaded to get out.

    So, she wished she could curse those who only yearned for money, those who couldn''t see the big picture, those who put themselves before others. If she, the queen, had to sacrifice herself, why shouldn''t workers and adventures do the same? If she, who had been given a gift, had to share it, why were the others so jealous of their own?

    That man, Optics, was a hero. He could have been a hero. He could have saved so many, if only he hadn''t put coinage before honor. No, not before honor. Before simple kindness. Before simple altruism. Before all those values that made even the little ones great.

    "You''re right."

    "... What?"

    "Why are you so surprised? I agree with you completely. I could have done as the Holy Lord did and offered my sword to your service because it was the right thing to do. And I didn''t. What right do I have to contradict you?"

    Optics moved away from her, gazing at the same starry sky that Draudillon had admired just a moment before, observing only the gods knew what. The sadness crackling from his face struck the queen''s conscience.

    "Aren''t you angry?"

    Optics replied in amazement, certainly not expecting that simple question. "For what? My lady, forgive the insolence, but you are very strange. First you accuse me and then you find yourself sorry for having hit the mark? If you derive some perverse pleasure from useless confrontation, I''m afraid I''m not the right man to satisfy these desires."

    Draudillon bit her lip, trying not to blush with embarrassment. "I mean... I was unfair."

    "You weren''t."

    "It wasn''t your job to die for me."

    "Maybe... Nevertheless, I could have done it. My lady, do you mind if I speak frankly?"

    The queen nodded.

    "I grew up in a bad neighborhood, having very little to eat for as long as I can remember. Hunger makes you do things you''re not always proud of. I was luckier than others. I had a talent for fighting. I don''t want to bore you with my life story, but I managed to carve out a space for myself. I had to protect that space with my teeth and nails for the rest of my existence. Criminals, nobles, monsters or subhumans. It never made any difference. I always held on tight to what little I had.

    "I am scum. Righteous people like you walk all over me. I don''t say this to curry favor, but because it''s true. You could run, you could sell us to the non-humans to save your own skin, but you don''t. With the kingdom on the verge of bankruptcy, you give what you have to give just to buy us another day. You give up your dignity to keep us together. And now, you risk your life to guarantee us a future. I respect that. Hell, I admire it. If things get bad, I will abandon you. Because, unlike you, that is what I am."

    Someone more understanding would have been able to console him, to show him that it wasn''t true. That someone was not Draudillon.

    "Why did you stay?"

    "Where?"

    "Here. In the Draconic Kingdom."

    "Where else could I go?"

    A talent like his could have flourished in other parts of the world. In the Draconic Kingdom he had been forced to remain dung. Only one person was to blame.

    "Wherever you wanted."

    Optics scratched his head, and he could hardly have said anything that would have made Draudillon happier.

    "But I wanted to stay here."

    A simple smile could soothe the most hurt heart.

 Chapter 62: If I were to kill all my enemies, who would remain?

    Antilene woke up, and she realized no one was near her. The morning''s light, entering gently through the tent opening, didn''t help to overcome the strains of fatigue. Blinking repeatedly, only one question, that fundamental dilemma that broke down all barriers united everyone, echoed in her head.

    ''Five more minutes?''

    The baneful question was answered by someone knocking. Or someone imitating the sound of knocking. The problem with tents was the clear absence of doors, in Antilene''s opinion. A deliberate design error, according to her judgment.

    "Come on in," the half-elf replied, voice half-broken by a disgraceful desire to return in the blankets'' hot embrace. Still in her modest nightgown, Antilene believed that formalities were to be expected only by people who lacked other forms of education.

    "Excuse me," Optics, already in full battle gear, entered with prudence, the noise of his steps abruptly interrupted when the shining scarlet eyes posed on the half-elf. "My lady, you could have told me to wait," the right hand was swift on covering the gaze which, to be fair, lacked curiosity.

    "No worries. There isn''t much to hide anyway," still partly covered by the blankets Antilene yawned annoyed by the rising sun, so eager to replace the listless night. "Where is the queen?"

    "Right here," Queen Draudillon Oriculus emerged just behind the man, also cladded in full breastplate like her bodyguard. The silver armor, mere decoration, was a perfect fit for the woman. Advantages of being able to mold the body to every whims. "We didn''t want to disturb your rest¡­ but it''s time."

    "They are already here?"

    "You told us to choose an area frequently raided."

    ''Indeed, I did.'' Indeed, she had. The morning Antilene cursed the afternoon Antilene, who believed in the motto ''a well-done job is a job done soon''. If it was true that you couldn''t cry on spilled milk, it was equally a fact that recognizing your own mistakes was the first step in personal development. In that case, she had undoubtedly made one. "The beastmen could have waited for a more suitable hour before starting their rampages." Incapable of winning the drowsiness, the half-elf could just wake-up, saying farewell to the best -and only- lower she ever had. In her heart, a promise to never leave the pillow again was reforged with the invocation of a new basic principle: to sleep well is to live well.

    "We''ll send them a letter of complaint," proposed Optics, tormented by that inscrutable affliction that led men to believe themselves witty. "We will also arrange a meeting for tea, if it pleases Your Highness."

    Good manners were a splendid and, regretfully, ancient invention, cradle of every culture worthy its name. At the same time, such solemn origins were also an excellent explanation for why too many were forgetful about it.

    ''At this moment, coffee would be more appropriate,'' corrected in her mind the half-elf. A quick glance to Queen Draudillon convinced Antilene about the goodness of her opinion; without a doubt that consideration was shared by the two of them and the disbelief furrowing the woman''s brow was proof enough, no other confirmations needed.

    "Yeah, sure. I wouldn''t like anything more than tea with demihumans," Lady Oriculus sighed defeated, almost surely disheartened by that lack of taste. Another point for the supremacy of coffee, if any doubt remained. "Now, can we hurry?"

    "I have not eaten yet. And my attire isn''t suited for a battle." On the battlefield, both of these inconveniences could prove fatal, for different motivations. Just as equipment could determine the course of a clash, the lack of it could foreshadow an unpleasant surprise. "Give me ten minutes."

    "You get no more than five."

    Shrudding, Antilene had no other alternative than to accept. "They will be enough," she said. They wouldn''t have been, all things considered.

    After Draudillon and Optics had left, while preparing the gears, the half-elf couldn''t refrain from asking her growling stomach for forgiveness. A loaf of bread would have been her rich banquet.

    It was often claimed that breakfast was the most important meal of the day¡­ Unwittingly, Antilene would have discovered how much wisdom could be found in that adage.

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    The village was deserted. Small, with only a few dozen houses in all, in its heyday it could not have been more than the last refuge for desperate people who had nothing left, and who had seen everything and more in that limited space and on that small amount of arable land.

    At the moment, it was only hosting a group of demihumans busy dividing up the loot. Since gold or other precious metals could not be found in such remote places, the only resource that could be attained had a completely different origin.

    ''Should I offer a prayer?''

    While the hot wind whistled, Antilene realized how futile certain actions could appear, after having repeated them a disproportionate number of times.

    For example, presenting yourself right in front of a small horde of beastmen, while they were trying to to catch the preys of the day was -in the daily life of a Theocracy''s soldier- everything but uncommon.

    Antilene, whose experience on the field was greatly limited if compared to her companions of the Scripture, in a first moment could find excitement in purging evil from this wretched world. In giving herself a purpose, the half-elf thrived in fulfilling the sacred duty of annihilation.

    "Who are you?"

    Monotony, however, was a treacherous beast. The comfort that familiar patterns could provide became, in the long run, tiresome.

    Antilene didn''t answer, for she already knew what would come next.

    The demihumans were hardened veterans, their scars and attitude proved it. They didn''t try to approach the half-elf once she made her presence clear, nor did they start to charge heedlessly. Aware that no normal human would fight them alone if not absolutely sure of their skills, their preparations were testament of years spent refining survival abilities.

    "To which tribe you belong?"

    According to the Draconic Kingdom and the Theocracy''s intel the invaders originated from a demihuman country in the east, split in different groups, divided according to their species. Their shining manes and feline faces, combined with their imposing bodies, gave away their origin.

    An adult nevayuu could mangle an adult''s collarbone in the matter of a fraction of seconds and flay the thorax cage in even less.

    "..."

    But if Antilene had remained quiet at the beastmens'' inquiry, in kind was the response awaiting her curiosity.

    Not that it mattered. The nevayuus started to circle her, cautious in their moves. The weapons -swords and maces still dripping the blood of recent victims- did not make any sound when unsheathed. Tens in total: three to the right, three to the left, two in the front, two in the back.

    Waiting for the first move, the casters behind her started to chant and the already steel-like muscles of the demihumans on the sides invigorated with energy, while the fighters disposed of according to a well tested formation.

    Despite the superiority in numbers, no underestimation. Despite the continuous triumphs against humans over the years, they were not tempted by the prospect of an easy victory.

    The beastmen remained motionless to predict how to move, leaving it inscrutable how often each movement could betray a future action. There was no carelessness on their part, yet they paid for a mistake that was never made when the half-elf did her deed.

    Wasn''t it unfair how someone could do everything right, and get the wrong result in the end? It wasn''t up to Antilene to establish if there was justice in the next outcome, it was just up to her to decide if it was worthy of not the ordeal.

    "Who are you?" In the matter of a blinking, the landscape heard a repetition of sounds, but not meaning. "Who are you?" At the start, concealed precautions. Before everything was stripped away. Then, after the ground had accepted the offerings made with nearest and dearest, it acquired a new connotation.

    "Who are you?" Over and over, the half-elf had heard it, and Six witnessing, she would have liked to provide the semblance of something that could grant what was requested by those who posed the issue. If her identity could be defined with such simplicity, Antilene would no longer have been the half-elf, nor the late extra-seat of the Black Scripture, nor the Evasha queen or the elves'' savior.

    Maybe, Antilene could have been just a girl.

    "Who are you?"

    When each rite had been performed and each prayer invoked, the astonishment grew. It wasn''t supposed to go like this, it wasn''t expected to reach this result, and other dozens of exclamations that could be woven in the now deafening silence. As if the unpredictability gave consolation in the approaching end, and the thought of having done all you could was enough for what would come next.

    "I am the one asking questions here," Antilene severed the last navyuu''s thread of hope with words alone. In watching his companions gently laid on the soil, the demihuman''s awe left space for a new found subservience. "Your group was small. Is this how you usually operate¡­ or something happened?"

    "You¡­ are not a member of the Draconic Kingdom''s army. Nor one of those adventures." Clearly, the demihuman wasn''t unfamiliar with tightening an arm between his hands. In the same way, unfortunately for him, that unhealthy habit didn''t translate into easily tightening one''s own. "Not even the Holy Lord could get rid of so many of us in just the blink of an eye."

    "Congratulations on your insight. Now speak up," urged Antilene, already contemplating if cutting only one arm had been enough.

    The nevayuu looked around, his eyes squinting in every direction, searching for salvation in the now desolate village. As if, from one moment to the next, an entire army would come to his aid. But there was no one. Only him, and her. "Almost all the western part of this human nation is under our control at this point. My group was one of the few sent to search for the last survivors."

    No one would come to his help, and the only deliverance in wait was shaped like a scythe.

    "There were only members of your kind¡­ Isn''t yours an union of different species?"

    The irregular breathing displayed an increasing hesitation. The wounds inflicted had been meticulously calibrated so as not to kill him, but the mere fact that his senses had not yet been lost was evidence of great strength of spirit.

    "The current Negus is our king. But that doesn''t mean the other monarchs aren''t trying to increase their own personal power and that of their people, for when this war will be over."

    "What is a Negus?"

    "Don''t you know anything about our culture?"

    "No."

    If the pain and the current predicament wouldn''t have suggested otherwise, the nevayuu would have probably erupted in a loud laugh, and not a high-pitched snarl, like he did.

    "So you know nothing."

    "I don''t."

    Once upon a time, irritation would have flowed in her veins. After spending so much time in the wilds, Antilene had learnt the lesson of patience.

    "Are you¡­ one of them?"

    "One of them?"

    "The white sorcerers¡­ The ones who even the brave king couldn''t subdue."

    Names, names. Why did everyone speak about names who hold no true significance? ''White sorcerers, though¡­ Could they be linked with the five fingers?'' Even if, that beastmen didn''t know anything about them: his uncertainty proved it.

    "All of this¡­ To me is nothing," Antilene waved her hand in the hair, driving away pesky insects attracted by the corpses. "What I am aiming for is the holy relic. I know your people are searching for it."

    Curiosity took hold of his gaze. Curiosity... and something else. Even just a few steps away from the abyss of death, greed reigned supreme in life. Impossible to say if the tremble coming from the nevayuu''s healthy arm was a last sign of remaining vitality or the first spasm of a newfound goal.

    It wasn''t unusual for the truth to lie somewhere in between two extremes.

    "So¡­ It was true. The treasures of the ancient dragon lay in this kingdom¡­"

    The half-elf just shrugged, waiting for the demihuman to continue.

    "You found one of them, that''s how you are this strong¡­"

    Once again, the half-elf remained quiet. The seed had been planted, and it wouldn''t take long to sprout.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    "You are letting your imagination run wild. I''m simply a collector in search of ancient memorabilia. My strength is only the addition of good exercise and healthy alimentation."

    "I¡­ I see¡­" The more trivial the truth, the more the search for a satisfactory lie was fueled. It was a natural mechanism, based on a difficulty in accepting one''s own mediocrity. If someone has defeated me, who am I to be special, it means that they are even more special than me. Reasoning like that could prove to be very dangerous, but also very useful when necessary. "I had heard that some clans were venturing in some areas remote from the usual ones, but I didn''t expect¡­"

    "So your people are also taking part in it? Those white sorcerers are guiding them?"

    The nevayuu lowered his head, for sure pondering how much he could share to a stranger like her. Antilene didn''t condemn him for it.

    "You will kill me anyway¡­"

    "Yes. So why waste my time?"

    It was, truth be told, a really impolite move as the last act.

    "Then, can I ask for a final request?" The fierce and proud warrior pleaded with every energy that could be muster. The aching of the upper-body gave away how little he could resist without further healing.

    "What is it?"

    "Burn my and my companions'' bodies. Do it, and I will tell you everything you want."

    An unexpected turn of events. As a wish it didn''t lack originality. Antilene''s curiosity, once piqued, knew how to have the best of her.

    "It has to be with the white sorcerers and the undead plaguing the region lately, doesn''t it?"

    Interesting how, on rare occasions, the absence of words could articulate entire discussions. In theory, even if a corpse was used as the catalyst for a summon the creature emerging from it would not coincide with the original one. In practice, soul matters were the perfect recipe for a headache and nobody could ascertain precisely what was going on¡­

    "Why did you demihumans start to work with the undead? Isn''t it blasphemy for your culture?" While assumptions based on common sense couldn''t always prove reliable, the hate for the undead was a common occurrence no matter whenever one went. To think that a simple beastmen nation in that corner of the world differed from that way of thinking was¡­ weird, to say the least. "Ah, I can see it. It wasn''t a choice, was it? A proud nation of warriors bent the knees to necromancers so easily?"

    And then the nevayuu said something that took Antilene by surprise. "It wasn''t only the white sorcerers¡­ After the defeat at Gelone''s Fortress¡­ The Nagus¡­ He made a pact with something¡­" Was it the pain that made him so feverish, or did the strange coloration of his skin derive from something else?

    "Something? Can''t you be more specific?" But at that point the demihuman collapsed, his fall light as a feather. "Ehi! Ehi!" No matter how much she called him, he was dead. Antilene checked his pulse more than one time to get a confirmation. Once she had got it, the half-elf puffed in frustration.

    ''Damn, it''s like the spell used to avoid the Scripture members getting interrogated, but even more refined. A single question was enough to provoke a clean death. Watching him, no one would even believe the cause was unnatural.''

    Even with previous experience of such magic, she hadn''t thought it possible that it could be not only replicated, but even refined. Not by those she had believed to be simple savages.

    ''I have sinned through arrogance.''

    Remaining in contemplation, Antilene reflected on how much everything had gone wrong. Her skills as a planner were still lacking to be honest and this was another proof of it.

    ''Rufus would reprimand me for my recklessness¡­ And he would be right¡­ The questions are still a lot, and of my aims not a single one was achieved.''

    It took her a few minutes to recover and stop cursing herself for her incompetence. By that time, both Optics and Draudillon had caught up with her.

    "Weren''t you supposed to leave one of them alive so they could spread the news about the holy relics?" Asked the swordsman, the rays of midday reflecting on his worried expression.

    "We should have created a distraction to give the demihuman the chance to escape, but we saw you here alone deep in thoughts," continued Draudillon, biting her lips in agitation. Exchanging a worried glance with Optics, the queen avoided looking directly at the half-elf, pointing her attention to what remained of the nevayuus.

    Antilene, in response, could only admit what had just happened.

    "... I fucked up."

    <hr noshade="noshade" size="1">

    "You don''t like tea?"

    It wasn''t every day when a queen served you. Staring at the hot drink in the cup, Antilene could sense Draudillon''s apprehension for her.

    "Not that much¡­ But it will suffice. Thank you."

    The lemon fragrance filled her palate. A bitter aftertaste remained stuck on the half-elf''s lips.

    "Delicious," Queen Oriculus, unlike the half-elf, had no problems showing her appreciation. "The blend comes from the Empire¡­ But the lemons are a special cultivation of the Draconic Kingdom, one of the many treasures of the Ruspina''s region. Be it afternoon or morning, there is nothing better to accompany cookies and pastries."

    Sweets in the aftermath of a failure would normally bring comfort. On any other occasion, even relief. On that bare camp-table, surrounded by the desert landscape and the sunset peeking over the horizon, they finished painting a rather outlandish picture.

    "They are not bad¡­ Lately it seems that I can''t escape cakes or other amenities¡­"

    Draudillon took a second cookie, savoring it with a small bite. Then another sip of tea, slowly. Incredibly slowly. Like every drop had to be carefully examined by her taste buds. She repeated the same action a couple of times, without ever losing her composure. "Is there something worrying you?" In the blue eyes could be glimpsed a hint of curiosity. "It''s the first time since we have met each other that I see you¡­ stirred."

    Not that she didn''t appreciate the care, but showing such a highly visible vulnerability didn''t sit right with the half-elf.

    "For starters, everyone would feel out of place in having a snack¡­ where are we again?"

    With her head tilted slightly to the right, the great ravine that divided the valley appeared to be even more furrowed in the earth. Antilene watched as Optics, right on the edge of the precipice, whistled some unknown tune, but always making sure that his peripheral vision was focused on the queen.

    "The Weeping Dragon Passage," explained Draudillon, clasping the forearms of the armor, as if the very words were a strike to guard against. "It''s where the Eight Greed Kings were said to have slain more than one of the ancient dragons during their rampage. My grandfather named this place in memory of his friends. As we were in the area already, I took the opportunity to show you."

    ''The Eight Greed Kings¡­ Grandfather was here then,'' the world remained the same it had been for the last centuries, but for Antilene every nook and cranny was reshaped to her vision, with just an additional information. "The view is great¡­ But also bare. It is difficult to believe a great battle was consumed right where we are now."

    Some magical creatures roamed in the distance. Mostly jumping hares, black-mantle foxes and blue robins. Nothing that could be defined as dangerous.

    Maybe the ancient magic of the dragons resting in that unusual grave still lingered and attracted living beings. Or maybe it was just the whims of nature, that had the death of the strong fuel the life of the weak.

    Maybe it wasn''t anything at all.

    "I find it relaxing¡­ Grandfather used to bring me here when I was little. Telling me stories about his friends¡­ He called them friends, but I doubt he really saw the old dragons like that. For him, it was just the imitation of a concept that would sound familiar to me." Draudillon allowed herself a lapse in the memories, her long auburn hair being tickled by a light breeze. "I think he wanted to teach me a lesson. Even those who believe themselves infallible often make mistakes. The ancient dragon lords underestimated the threat of the Eight until it was too late. If they had acted with more awareness... Well, maybe not much would have changed, but there would have been fewer regrets for those who survived."

    Looking above, the sky was limpid, with only a few clouds up there. Antilene wanted her mood to be as clear.

    "I made a mistake¡­"

    A source of precious information was lost only because of her impulsiveness. Because, when faced with the prospect of a quick result, she had been consumed by greed. Antilene wasn''t new to making errors, but this time the disappointment she felt burned fiercely in her soul.

    "Everyone makes mistakes, even you," Draudillon said, in an attempt to ease her doubts. The woman''s hand approached hers, but stopped only a fraction of an inch away, as if that infinitesimal distance were endless. "You still found out that your plan was working, didn''t you? The beastmen are starting to rush to this place, in search of holy relics¡­ and at that point¡­"

    "History will repeat itself. That''s what you mean?" A promised carnage, just in the same place part of her legacy had started, that was what Antilene had offered to the Draconic Kingdom. The ironic thing? It was no accurate plan that had set things to be like that, just mere coincidence. She had always feared to resemble her father, but maybe it had been that unknown grandfather all along, the one from whom she had inherited everything.

    "History never repeats itself. It just gives us that impression because we are unable to truly grasp the scale of the events we are experiencing; therefore, we associate them with something familiar. Future generations will give the right value to the present." Was Draudillon betting on the future generations? The reward didn''t justify the risk, in that case.

    And yet, the half-elf wanted to make the same bet. Was the queen influencing her? Or was another reason that prompted her? A ruler was someone who watched the bigger picture, per Cardinals'' teachings. A good ruler was someone who worked for tomorrow having in mind yesterday, per Antilene''s considerations.

    "We still aren''t sure if they will come here, anyway. For all we know, they could scatter all over the kingdom." Antilene finished her tea without much gusto. All that remained were the sweets, yet no hunger to accompany them.

    "Even the beastmen know the sacredness of this place. It''s not without reason to concur they will come here," Draudillon was quite confident of what she proclaimed, or that was the impression she was attempting to cast. "The citizens of the Theocracy are distinguished by their faith, aren''t they? Have faith, then."

    "It''s unexpected to hear you preach about faith."

    "How so?"

    "We don''t share the same faith, in the first place."

    "We don''t?"

    Actually, Antilene couldn''t tell. The Six had some temples in the Draconic Kingdom, but so had the Four and other minor beliefs. As for the queen... There was no way the half-elf could say that she had ever seen her praying. For a follower of the Six, this was unthinkable.

    "I didn''t tell you anything¡­ The demihuman, the nevayuu I had spared at the start, was afraid of something. Or, rather, of someone. They are called the white sorcerers, but I suspect they are something else, and the reason I am here in the first place."

    "Do you know them?"

    "I can''t put my hand on the fire regarding the matter. In Evasha, just before I settled things with my father, there was a strange surge of undead. And, actually, strange incidents persisted even after my crowing."

    Draudillon remained unperturbed, except for a slight movement of the fingers that made the cup wobble, albeit imperceptibly.

    "Undead, you say? Just like¡­"

    "Just like what has been happening here since last month¡­," concluded Antilene for her. "The last report of the Scripture talks about a very powerful magic caster leading the beastmen in the last bout between your army and the demihumans." Even if Windstride''s reliability was questionable, the other Scriptures'' reports confirmed the weird abundance of undead in the region, something that even the higher echelons of the Draconic Kingdom were aware of at that point.

    "... Elder liches?" Draudillon asked.

    "Yes, but worse."

    Standing up, the queen held her breath, in search of the courage to utter what was blocking her throat. "Worse than an elder lich? Don''t you want to say¡­ Night Liches?" An epithet that spelled an epitaph of dread for those who dared to pronounce those words. "Who is it? Argoros the dragonlich? Siyern the titan? Or¡­ Fear?"

    ''The lord of the shadows,'' thought Antilene. Each of these three was master of a dark and terrible domain, far away in the world. ''No one would expect them to interfere in the matters of this forgotten corner of existence.''

    And yet secrets and distant tales could affect even those who tried to avoid them.

    "I can''t say for certain. These you nominated are the only ones we have some semblance of news of¡­ But there are more. I killed one myself years ago, and I suspect there is some link with what is happening here right now."

    The deeds of the past always returned, making escaping from it impossible. With no opportunity to change them, Antilene had no choice but to accept their consequences.

    "You killed one of these monsters? You killed a night lich, which is said to have the power of an entire nation?"

    Returning to her encounter with Kunivela and his acolytes, even that estimation sounded an underestimation. Nations like the Empire, the Holy Kingdom or the Draconic Kingdom itself would have fallen without having the time to plan a resistance if one of the powerful undead casters were to seriously attack them.

    Truly, an enemy that in normal circumstances humanity had no chance against.

    "So what?"

    Draudillon could only come to terms with what she had heard, satisfying her curiosity with so little. "It''s one of these monsters that is threatening my home?"

    "Maybe more than one¡­"

    "Splendid," that horrible possibility, that in other circumstances could have made the listener shiver in fear, was accepted with composed dignity. "And here I thought things couldn''t get any worse."

    "You seem to be taking it well," noted Antilene. Fortitude or simple surrender?

    "What should I do? At this point we are already in the ballet room¡­ We can just dance. Didn''t you promise to save this kingdom? I shall trust you."

    The weight that word, trust, imposed was heavy.

    "I guess you are right," as Draudillon took a walk nearby, the half-elf tried to remember something¡­ Something that had bothered her for a long time. "Be it one or two, night liches will not be a problem." Ten, though, or more¡­ Antilene was seized by a wave of concern. And excitement. Clenching her fists, she couldn''t stop herself from smiling.

    A familiar voice disturbed the stillness barely ripened.

    "Sorry to interrupt," Optics approached in fret, sweat dripping from his forehead. "We have company." The worker''s tone of voice couldn''t hide a hint of concern.

    Both Antilene and the queen followed him, halting at the cliff edge. "There. Watch!" He pointed to a part of the valley sheltered by a rocky formation. From afar, they could glimpse figures moving in the distance, busy setting up what at first glance could have been described as a small camp.

    Squinting her eyes, the half-elf had no problems recognizing the mysterious visitors.

    "Demihumans? Nevayuus again?"

    "Only a few of them. Lady Fouche, what are you gonna do?"

    "You and Queen Oriculus stay here. I will talk with them. Optics, don''t disappoint me."

    The swordsman nodded, a sardonic smile only hinted on his face. "It would be difficult to disappoint you even more. But I''ll try my best."

    "They don''t seem dangerous," said Draudillon. "But please, pay attention."

    Antilene was already in the midst of jumping towards them. "Got it." She couldn''t tell if she was proceeding as it was expected from her. There were no traces of other enemies near them, but a sophisticated concealment skill could have fooled even her.

    In any case, Draudillon had a way to defend herself, if worse came to worse¡­

    The half-elf moved cautiously near the demihumans, preparing for the fight. Approaching, she could see how badly they had been battered. Some remained seated even when they saw her, very few of them having the energy necessary to hold a weapon. Most didn''t even look like soldiers and, if it hadn''t been for their natural gifts, they would have been even considered harmless.

    "A human?"

    Difficult as it was to distinguish the age of demihumans, it was evident that the one who spoke stood out for his youthful appearance compared to the others. His build was thinner, the voice soft and the eyes and face tried to masker with resolution and leadership what was uncertainty. As the mouth hesitated, the arms couldn''t stop slightly shaking.

    Nothing of that had no importance to Antilene, whose attention was captured by the color of the fur. White. White as snow.

    "What are you doing here?" Asked the half-elf, paying attention to them. Having still in mind the experience of the morning, she refrained from repeating the earlier failures.

    "We¡­" The young nevayuu couldn''t finish. One of the soldiers, sword at hands, stood between him and the half-elf.

    "My prince," he said, while raising an oval bronze shield. "This woman is bad news¡­"

    Antilene whistled surprised. Not everyone was able to understand her strength in such a short fraction of time.

    "I don''t sense anything dangerous from her," replied the one who was, evidently, a sort of prince.

    "That''s the point, my lord. Everyone, before engaging with strangers, enemies no less, emits no matter what minimum emotions. Fear, anticipation, bloodlust¡­ But she¡­ Nothing. A human woman, showing herself to a group of proud nevayuus, without a small change in her expressions or imprecise movements. Cold as ice, she makes my blood freeze."

    That warrior stood up for his acumen, Antilene considered. More so, if compared to the other nevayuus, who just waited for directions, clueless about what to do with the danger posing in their front.

    "Your intuition deserves praise, warrior. But proud nevayuus? I only see scared cubs." A far cry from the great battle she had anticipated. That small group couldn''t even provide a tale for some drunkards in a small inn of some remote region, forget the epic story that could inspire hearts and repel monsters. "Searching for the holy relics? If that is your aim, I am afraid you are too late."

    "We¡­," Once again, the prince tried to speak.

    "My prince," When the guard tried to stop him, this time was met with a fierce rebuttal by his liege.

    "We have no alternatives, Ashiramn. You said it yourself, didn''t you? She is strong. And someone strong is what we need." Still trembling, the young demihuman forced himself to act as a leader. The result, while unconvincing, was enough to assert his position. "I need to ask her."

    "...Go ahead, then."

    Intrigued, Antilene waited for him to speak. And, at that point, something happened that never, not even in her wildest dreams, the half-elf could have imagined.

    The demihuman knelt at her feet.

    "I beg you, human. You and all the people in this kingdom. My father needs your help."

    Unexpectedly, Antilene was left speechless.