The Ashes of Hades
Writing a Dark Souls/Danmachi fic has been on my mind for ages. Initially, it had been the first fic I wanted to publish, but I was never satisfied. This time, the story of Emilia (an OC), as I started to get to know her, kinda interested me more than my other characters, so I wrote her first chapter. Follows the first part, which is most of the prologue. The second and final part is much smaller. I don't have a beta, would appreciate any offers. Having someone to discuss ideas is always great.
I wrote everything in one go too, so there might be a decrease in quality as you go on, but heck, I was inspired to write, mate. I just had to do it. Hopefully you enjoy it. Have a nice night.
Summary:
Hades burns the capital of a Kingdom located in the outskirts of known civilization. Centuries after as the Bells of Lamentations ring under the Red Moon, the first Ashen One is called upon the Earth. Her heart clamors for revenge, and Emilia will climb the dungeon to destroy Hades, erase his cursed blue flame from the world, and every god that stands in her way.
Prologue (1/2): The Death of the Prince
Step to the left, step to the right, let his sword pass by. I raise my dull blade, high above, letting him see it well displayed. He clinches his weapon, but it is too late. I let my own fall, his shoulder its fate.
The noise is dull, but satisfying, his legs crumble as he kneels with a hand over the area I hit with my strike.
"This fucking kid!" the man says, a man almost twice my age. They are so overconfident on their strength, so careless of others agility and quick thinking. Clearly, they must have let their brains rot with their age.
I open my arms, my wooden sword barely held by my thumb as my other fingers are wide open. "Who's next?! Who's yet not a coward?!" I say with a devilish smile, my mouth the only part of my face not covered by my wooden mask.
I challenged them, but after the fourth grown-ass man I've beaten, the others seem much less interested in getting their asses handed over by a kid. If they only knew I was a girl too. My smile grew at the prospect… but I couldn't flaunt that. No one could know I was of the opposite sex. And certainly, no one could know my identity.
That was but the simplest part of the deal. I looked at the end of the small arena, at the chairs, and I spotted a figure wearing a dark blue cape, the hood risen to help his anonymity. My guard, Sir Romsky, was there, watching my every move and of every other individual here down with me. He was silently keeping me safe, to make sure I remained within our agreed bounds, as well as keeping his eyes open in case one (or many) of my opponents tried to hurt me in case they got too humiliated.
Because that was actually a valid worry.
"All right. I will do it, kid." A masked man spoke, and he was quite close to my guard. In fact, he was on the same row, only away from him by a couple of seats. He seemed to be wearing only stained rags from his shoulders to his feet. Heck, one of his boots had a whole on the front, and I could see his toes. However, who was I to judge?
The arena was a place where anyone could come in and gain a few coins. Be you rich or poor, it was a place for sport, and there was no one who called himself a man which didn't like to see two souls beat the crap out of each other. Well, in my case, a woman liked that too. Father told me I would eventually grow up to become more lady-like, but as I reached my 17th birthday, I was starting to realize that wasn't happening anytime soon. Maybe never.
My newest opponent jumped from the first rows into the sand of the arena, rolling as he dispelled the energy of his fall. That was certainly interesting, maybe he had more experience than his clothes let on. In the next second, however, any belief that he actually knew what he was doing was dispelled.
"Wait, you're not picking any weapon?" I asked him, a hand on my wooden sword clenching. How dared him underestimate me?
The man came to stand only a few meters away from me. He shrugged at my question. "Don't worry about me, little boy."
This man. My second opponent of the day had been a knight, and had made his face meet the ground at the end of our bout. This homeless, did he think of himself better than a knight of our kingdom? This impudent little shit.
"Very well. So be it." I answered him, my voice leveled almost all the way through a small amount of spite. I say 'almost', because at the end my voice diminished its strength, for I saw Sir Romsky stand. Was something wrong? Usually he stayed quiet through the whole ordeal. Before I could read his expression, however, the bell rang and my next fight began immediately.
He had a foot forward and a foot slightly behind his center of gravity… he was positioning himself aggressively? While weaponless?
I held my sword in front of my right shoulder, while the tip of my blade being in front of my left shoulder. Thus, it was positioned diagonally in front of me, but that was but a defensive position. What was I waiting for? This man was completely open no matter the angle, he had nothing to defend himself with!
I twisted my sword, taking a step backwards and two forward to gain momentum, my sword cutting down from my right side to my left. The masked man gracefully stepped under, and I saw him making a move forward.
Like I let him on so easily. My strike my have failed, but I had two hands, and I could play dirty too. I retreated the hand holding my sword slightly back to mu right, enough to give space my left hand to pass by and hit the man square in the face.
But it missed. I felt the man's hand simply toss my fist away as he gently pushed the side of my wrist, and all my momentum was deviated just enough to fail completely. In the next instant, I lost sight as our foreheads met (well, our masks were in the way, but it hurt nonetheless, okay!?), and I felt myself falling on my back.
I refused to fall after no less than 5 seconds. I still had a foot well placed, and I used it to push myself further back, enough that it allowed myself to roll away from my opponent. For the first time in the day, my clothes had been completely stained by the dirt, dust, and sand that covered the arena.
The people around us went silent, and I could hear my own breathing distinctly. I realized my opponent had barely broken a sweat, though he was already back to his standard footing. I raised myself fully, my sword again on its previous position before I switched. I raised my sword high and I glared at the man. None of us could read each other's faces, but we could well spot the hole in our masks that let us see. Now, I couldn't exactly see his eyes, but I was glaring at him hard enough that I was sure he could at least feel mine.
We stood in front of the other for a few seconds. He maybe be positioned aggressively, but he was waiting for myself to give the first strike. I see… he worked with the counter attack. His hands were held in front of him as if they were two blades, each palm facing one direction. I had seen this style before. Heck, my brother himself had been interested in this sort of posture for battle, but his research had gone nowhere. By his own words, the posture failed to adapt against a few Eastern styles, particularly the elven ones. I wasn't experienced on their styles, but that wasn't a problem. There was another weakness to my opponents strategy.
I clenched the handle of my sword. Stepping twice forward, again, I brought down my sword and I saw him adjust to my attack. Shame to him, that wasn't the actual attack. As my sword dove, my fingers did most of the work, twisting my weapon and bring its tip down. Where I was truly aiming, I feel like the man realized an instant too late. Nevertheless, props for him for at least figuring it out before he ended flat squared in the ground.
The tip found a small rock that lifted itself slightly from the dusty earth, and my tip battered against it, finding a solid support for my next move. As if I was rowing in a lake, I pushed the rock as a sailor may push the water with his oar. Bringing my shoulder forward, I threw myself against the man.
You see, the other weakness of this strategy is against too much energy. It did a great job at deflecting the attacks of those of similar weight and strength, and by that, I mean a dwarf could potentially use this against a knight. He couldn't, however, win against an orc.
So, I became an orc, if only for an instant and threw all my weight against him, the element of surprise on my side.
Only I miscalculated.
I heard him whisper, "Passionate, driven, but aimless."
His leg in the back twisted, the very one that I expected to be his supporting one. Maybe it was, but to change it so abruptly… it was enough to take him out of the way, but he wasn't satisfied. A hand of his got a tap in the back of my head, and the lace that held my mask threatened to undo itself. This time, I did fall in the ground, and it had not been pretty.
I should say, that was the first time I faced this style of battle. It was uncommon, but I knew I was at fault too. I had been precocious, tried to think to hard, only to end up terribly miscalculating and making a fool of myself. I had to play it safe, doing what I knew I was good at. The last four bouts had made me overconfident.
It was time to get back to what I knew well.
I managed to get my left hand on my mask to stop it from falling, and although I wanted to fix the lace, I realized my opponent wouldn't give me the opportunity. He came in close, and I raised my sword quicker than he expected, striking his belly with my dull edge.
He grunted less than I expected, and I realized he had managed to twist himself enough to weaken my strike. This fucking contortionist belongs in the fucking circus.
He punched my in my gut, my stomach suddenly hot and threatening to spill my breakfast. Still though, I knew it could be worse. Had he held back?
It didn't matter. My sword was above him due to missing the previous strike, but that didn't mean it had to stay up there. I pulled down my arm, and with it, came my sword perpendicular to my limb, much like a sickle. It was on a good path against the back of his head, enough so that I almost smirked.
Almost. He spun his neck, his head coming under my sword, and with another hand of his (seriously, how many of these does he have?), he pushed my own arm against me, and used his body to press me hard against a wall—wait, wall?
He had me against the wall of the arena, completely stuck and imprisoned. He had a hold of my armed hand, using it to press my own sword against my neck, and his other hand hel my other wrist. He could well decide to unmask me if he so wished, though doing it so obviously on purpose was against explicitly written rules.
But you never knew who was behind the mask. Their motives, their story, their will… It was all hidden. He could be a criminal, a serial killer, or Hades himself. How would you know? How could you predict him? Know whether he would abide by laws?
I screamed, tried to force myself out of his control, but he had a knee up between my legs, his entire body serving as a cage.
"No one can ever say you give up easily." He started, his voice now so close, it threatened my memory. It was so familiar, so… "Just as prideful, you're tenacious. You strive, but when questioned, you loose your focus. You haven't changed, Princess Emilia."
I gasped.
Suddenly, the man twisted my wrist and ripped my mask of my face. I saw every man, in the outskirts of the arena as well as in the stands, let their mouths hang open.
My opponent let me free, and I jumped to the side, Sir Romsky running in my direction, his face expressing the greatest of worries. Oh, my knight, he was so worried. I turned to my opponent, the man who had not only defeated me today for the first time, but also for the past three weeks.
"What is thy name, sir?" I inquired, half asking, half ordering. How did he recognize me? And those comments during battle… did he actually knew me
To my distaste, he chuckled, "Oh, so highly all of the sudden, Princess." This man… he may have defeated me, but he was no matter to a company of knights, which were already surely on their way after my reveal. He would have to obey the law, that is, myself… well, my father first, but after him it was pretty much me. Well, unless my brother had returned, but no one knew when that would happen.
"Not going to answer me?" I asked again, my voice threatening, but to my irritation, the victor of our bout was merely gazing at his surroudings. What was she looking at? There's a princess right in front of him! One that he had just delivered the worst defeated she had had in weeks!
He had punched a Princess! Sir Romsky, is he here yet?!
But to my surprise, he was, right besides me, but kneeling.
"Sir Romsky?" I asked, and suddenly my voice lost power.
My opponent took of his mask.
I heard Sir Romsky's voice, though it did seem very far away, despite him being next to me.
"The Crown Prince, my Princess, your brother has returned."
His black hair, usually so well taken care of, was dirtied by our fight, but even then, it had been dirty before our bout, and his clothes were mere rags by any standard of royalty. His skin, usually as white as snow, was slightly tanned. But his mask came off, and I could now see his eyes and confirm that they truly belonged to my brother. Dark brown eyes, vivid, but tired. Attentive, but uninterested.
And although his clothes were completely undignified, and his image utterly unrecognizable, the crowd kneeled without a word.
"Rise, my fellow subjects." He spoke with a hand raised and his voice reached the entire arena, before turning himself to me. He gave me one of his classic knowingly (and annoying) smiles, apparently entertained, "It seems my little sister has acquired quite the unholy habit. Fighting violent bouts, not only as a Princess, but during the 2 hours of Observance. What would our patron, Hades think?"
I turned my eyes away, and spoke softly so as to let only my brother hear me. Damn the silent arena. "Hades is a god who approves of struggle. Surely, he wouldn't punish me so harshly."
My brother had a hand on his chin, "But to struggle during His hours?"
"Where there is no struggle, there is no strength. Hades approves of strength."
"Hum… that is for Hades to decide. I wouldn't be worried about him, however. I think father is your biggest problem."
Yeah, about that. I all thankful you're back home, brother, but why the fuck did you do this? Is this all for the dramatic entrance effect? Do you need to do something every time you come back home? Your god damn theatricality is going to ground me FOR MONTHS!
I felt my teeth clenching, and my brother's smile only grew. The bastard, he was enjoying this!
%%%&%%%
"All hail the Crown Prince of Lusitania, John of Bourgogne, the Virtuous Prince!"
Past the doors my brother came, entering the main hall, and all the vassals of our Crown gave him a loud ovation. He was popular, you know, quite so. The last few weeks, his whereabouts had been a mystery, and although that hadn't been the first time it had happened, just like all other times, my parents had grown worried and irritable.
I had the feeling it always paid off though, for every time my brother returned from a journey, his story grew… and his story might as well be a legend. A heroic individual who fished with the fisherman, peddled with peddlers, all the while fighting the enemies on our borders. By his hand graves had been made for orcs, elves, and even a dragon. It was so strange, because when I saw him every time, he was just… John, my brother. He had taken care of me, heck, even changed a few of my diapers. To think the same hands that wiped my ass had killed a dragon was but slightly disconcerting. It quickly became awesome though, I mean, how many people had their ass cleaned by a dragon strangler?
My brother had finally crossed our hall. My father was at the center, two smaller thrones on his right, while mother sat on his left. I was on one of those smaller thrones, the outermost one, with my brother's place between myself and father.
"My King, your Highness, I've returned from my latest journey. I thank you for your hospitality in allowing me into your castle so promptly and… be received by such an amazing crowd."
That was actually quite funny. You see, father had ordered every direct vassal of his to be in his castle by the end of the day. My bout with my brother had been in the morning, only 10 hours ago. It was now around 8 in the night, beginning of the evening, and I wasn't seeing a single lord missing. We must have used all our pigeons. Hopefully they were brought back.
"Prince John, tell me, what have you learned. What teaching do you bring this time to enrich the Kingdom?"
My brother had obviously been bathed, and wore fresh clothes for someone of his status, which weren't many since there could be only one heir to the throne. He wore a red cloak, which dropped until his thighs, and he wore a black suit of armor that made him seem more filled than he was. Brother was quite skinny this morning.
John looked down for a few seconds, thinking about father's question. Everyone was also admittedly curious, since John always shared his adventures, and some sort of lesson at their end on his welcoming feasts. It was always some kind of joke, something that made most of the table laugh until they were out of breath.
"That there is always a choice. No matter who you are." His voice was slightly somber, despite his smile. John was never somber, rarely serious on such occasions. "And every action, or the lack of it, is an choice in itself."
I looked around and saw most lords pensive, but some seemed also slightly worried. I think my father probably noticed it, stopping the silence after my brother's words extending much further.
"HA!" the king exclaimed as he stood up, "After 'Virtuous', we ought to attach 'Philosopher'. May your meditations enlighten your future rule, my son! The Crown Prince has returned!"
The next session of claps and whistles erased much of the previous atmosphere, and quickly all the lords and ladies were moved to the feast. Before we all sat down for the banquet, however, most lords
This feast, however, had been different from all others. My brother was usually an entertaining man, but he seemed much less interested in entertaining others, while more interested in 'helping me getting along with the nobility'.
Before you take any sort of conclusions, I didn't have a problem with our vassals, or their sons, and etc. I had friends, and I had spoken with them in the beginning, but my brother hijacked me and told me it was time I left my 'bubble'. He had rarely interjected in my private life in such away, and it had made me slightly irritated, but everything changed after what he had promised me.
"I will teach you how to fight." He whispered in the overpopulated feasting hall, and yet, I was the only one who had heard him.
"That doesn't make any sense. Why out me to father, in literally the worst way possible to follow on with that promise? And it's not exactly like I'm in great graces right now. Soon enough, the entire kingdom will know I was fighting alongside thieves, beggars, and fallen knights."
"You said yourself." He winked, "Struggle brings strength." He then turned serious, "I was out for most of the day. Father has taken care of to make sure no one important know what happened this morning at the Arena of Cerberus. Furthermore, those who were let go, well, who would believe the words of thieves that Princess Emilia kicked their ass in one of the poorest regions of the city?"
I shrugged, "Okay, my reputation isn't tarnished. Still, I don't exactly have a reputation. Shouldn't you do that instead, oh my 'virtuous' brother'?"
My brother looked away. "It's time you start holding your share of the weight Emilia. You never know when you might need to do it without option."
In the middle of the loud hall, where people danced and drank, my brother and I shared a few seconds of silence.
I sighed. "Okay, I'm doing this."
My brother gave me a weak smile. "You see over there, Duke Richard?" and he continued at my nod, "He's a pious man, and you must have heard his wife is ill. Probably Pneumonia. They've sacrificed an entire zoo by now to Hades to no avail. Go there and inquire about Lady Mary's situation."
"And what?"
"Well, think and… advise them. Remember, that you as a Princess, daughter of our father, you have the privileged of giving certain advice that others… can't."
I raised my eyebrows, "You mean…?"
He shrugged again. "Go there and find out."
%%%&%%%
"That's blasphemy." I said simply.
My brother nodded.
We were in the royal garden alone. Brother had made sure of that.
"Aren't you supposed to be 'Virtuous'? I asked him impishly.
"I never said I was pious."
They are basically synonyms, and my brother knew that. As he looked at my skeptical face, he continued.
"What is greatness, Emilia?"
Dad was right. We have to add 'Philosopher' to his titles. Nevertheless, I indulged him.
"To be great. Uhh—"
"Can everyone be great?" My brother interjected.
I pulled my hair over my ear. It wasn't that long. It ended just above my shoulder when I let it free. "I suppose not. Greatness has in itself an element of comparison."
"Exactly. So, we agree it not a common characteristic. Not only uncommon, but rare, we agree on that too?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"Answer with more certainty."
"Yes. We agree." I repeated my previous answer.
"Who, then can be great?"
Who? There were many heroes in stories, though how many of those were real, and how many were fiction was disputable depending on which people you asked. But I had a safe answer right in front of me, right?
"People expect you to be called 'The Great' you know? Like the founder of our Kingdom." I told him. "Royalty, I suppose, seems to have an easier time at achieving greatness."
"Why?" He asked me. Were we going through all the interrogative pronouns? Or whatever they were called? Fuck, I have to review this.
"We are royal for a reason."
"You really believe that?" It wasn't spite, it was… incredulity, "That we are born different than peasantry?"
I didn't have an exact answer to that. Many believed that yes, we were different, but… didn't I like to fight, as my father put it this afternoon when he was grounding me, as a savage? Could I be a savage, while still being my parent's daughter? I was a woman, and yet, I wasn't very ladylike. Mother had told me that plenty of times, and an unfortunate number of men my age too.
Well, damn them. I would be whatever I liked.
"Good." My brother whispered.
"Good, what?"
We had been walking around the garden, though we usually stuck around its center to make sure we were away from prying ears. It was the center too that had most of our flowers, which colored our surroundings with more colors than most of our paintings could have.
"Remember what I told you on the welcoming ceremony. About our choices?" he continued at me nod, while caressing a Daisy flower, "The truth, Emilia, is that royalty isn't a specific flower, while peasantry is another. We are all one single flower. All it changes, is the grounds where we grow and develop."
"Brother…" this was dangerous talk. I supposed we could have this conversation. After all, the future king could think what he wanted, and I was someone I knew he could trust, just I knew I could trust him if the need arises. But I couldn't help wondering if he had this conversation with anyone else. Someone untrustworthy.
"We are all of the same flesh, and our blood differs only because we refuse to see it." I heard anger slip into his tone, "With the amount of bastards running around, it's a miracle half our vassals haven't been disputed by their own sons. We've invented this system which corrupts our senses, hinders our potential. All thanks to gods… Emilia, what is greater? To be born good, or overcome your evil to become good?"
"That's… isn't being born good better?"
"Certainly, but is it 'Greater'? Greatness, you told me yourself, is something that depends inherently on comparison. But what then do you compare?"
I looked at our collection of flowers, at their bodies and roots firm in the well taken care ground. "A beautiful flower in a expensively maintained garden is definitely a good sight, but that same flower, if able to grow on the desert, will surely be more impressive."
My brother smiled. "I've seen the sons of millers become the most valiant knights, sons of shepherds become the most skilled burghers and merchants. In my journeys, I've encountered women and wives more dangerous than the most threatening of soldiers. Particularly after they become widowed. Emilia, put to test, mankind rises above any challenge."
"Brother, what is the meaning of this reflection?" I asked worriedly. It is always a pleasure to spend time with him, even more so when there are so few chances, but this is outright worrying.
"Emilia, do you understand at what point we've reached? The conclusions we've brought about?"
I nodded.
"Greatness is the result of surpassing the greatest challenges. Of facing the tasks many do not wish to, not just out of necessity, but out of providence. Being guided not only by your own wishes, but by you reason to achieve the best outcome. Of course, one cannot forget to trust every once in a while, his emotions. Empathy is our strongest weapon after all. The ability to trust and be trusted. Do you understand that Emilia?"
The moon had come out of the clouds, and it now shone upon our garden. My brother, clad in black armor, shone in the night. His eyes were outright determined, and that typical uninterest they usually had was gone. His hair was held back, a scar on his left cheek was now well displayed with the moon light, something I hadn't noticed under the light of our torches. His right hand was holding his sword tight, and at any moment, I felt like the man before could explode if so he wished.
Was this the man of the legends?
"Everyone can achieve what I achieved, had they been given the right ground. Anyone can rule, if they are educated for it. Anyone can be brave, if they are given the chance—"
"You said—" why was I crying? I felt a tear stream down my cheek. What the heck? "You said we always have a choice. What is that supposed to mean, when now you tell me people must also be given? Some say the strong rule, right? They weren't given a chance in that case."
"The strong do indeed feed themselves on the weak. They were born with advantages, but to use that advantage, or not, is a choice they still have. Power itself does not necessarily invoke a reason to use it, only to maintain itself. And the best way to maintain itself, is by doing the right thing."
"That's not the case in history. A monarch must be wise, yes, but that hasn't stopped crazy man to rise and cause civil war, famines, and other strife."
My brother nodded. "And that is why, even among royalty, greatness is not easily achieved."
"Because people do not have strong morals?"
"No." John spat. "Because they don't understand morals themselves are relative. Sacrifices must be made, and most of the time, the masses cannot handle the necessary acts. There are hard choices to be made, and only those who have cultivated a strong will may go through the worst of predicaments, all for the better of their people. Those are truly powerful. You understand?"
"Knowledge is Power?"
"Indeed, but there's something else, not least important that that fact. Power brings about responsibility."
I looked at the back of the garden, our castle proudly behind us under the shine of the moon. "Hasn't father done a good job, anyway?"
"This isn't about the current ruler of Lusitania. It's about the next."
My heart was beating faster. Had been for a while. It's obvious something was very wrong, and I felt like such a little girl for having tears already. They had subsided now, but my brother's theatricality was being a headache. Couldn't he just get on with the end? What was this all about? And yet, I was so afraid of asking him, asking him what the point of all this was.
"I never imagined you would be insecure about your future. You usually seem set you goals in stone and follow through, nonstop."
My brother took a good breath. "Emilia. You are to become Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Lusitania. I will not be King. You will this Kingdoms Queen."
"What?" My ears must have failed me.
"I, instead, have a fate I must accomplish, to save everyone I know."
"What?" wasn't he hearing me? Was my voice too low? Well, I was feeling slightly out of air. God, was this dress always so tight.
"I will be sacrificed in the next Red Moon for our Lord, Hades, to keep our Kingdom at peace. I will forfeit my life, you live, do you understand?"
"No."
"I see that you do."
"No."
"I will be teaching you from now what you will need to rule Lusitania. This was our first lesson."
"You can't!" I yelled this time, throwing myself at him and pulling him down with me. I wanted to stop my brother from talking, moving, do whatever I could to put time on a stop. Wasn't he hearing me? Why was he ignoring me?! Why? "Why are you being sacrificed? Minor Lords were at worst! Knights who wanted to be freed of their sins! Desperate family man who wanted to free their families from debt? Cursed man, do you hear me?"
"This is but the consequences of my actions."
"Damn your actions! You're not burning at the steak! Have father and mother heard about this? They won't tolerate—"
"They have. They've known for a couple years now."
I laughed as I cried, "Oh, so was that your private little joke? 'OH, look at Emilia, doesn't know we are burning John at the steak, and she will be queen! Let's keep it a secret until the day of her coronation—'"
I felt John take hold of me gently, even while I moved to punch him anyway I could to hurt me as hard as he was hurting me.
I couldn't be queen, and I couldn't lose my brother. Alone, they were already terrible. I was temperamental, unfocused, and more importantly, a savage. I was terrible for ruling because I didn't want it. I don't want this! Is it that hard to explain. I know half the Kingdom must get a hard on for the wish of being King, but I've seen it up close to know: it ain't worth it. My father does a great job, and my brother would be even better. I can live in their shadow perfectly. It suits me fine.
But I would lose my brother. How could he do this? Telling me there would be a time when he would stick around permanently, when he would tell me the details he shared with no one else about his adventures, his tales?
Is this that he meant?
"As I've said, this was your first lesson Emilia, and I promise, it will be the worst." He promised me, his voice sweet as he carried me inside the castle. "That is, the worst has gone by."
I closed my eyes, wanting the nightmare to end, until I lost track of time. He must have found the head maid, as I felt feminine hands took me under her care, and only the head maid had strength to carry me to my bedroom. But I heard his voice, one last line he shared, whether it was intentional or not, before the night was truly over.
"Dismissed."
%%%&%%%
It made sense in retrospect. How my father had always been so tame with my punishments when I broke out of the 'ladylike' rules mother had set me to. They knew I would rule, and they couldn't have a fragile daughter to do it. Ruling required a hardened will, and drinking tea all day wasn't exactly how you got things done. Seeing father provided more than an adequate number of examples on what I should be good at. The preservation of power need the mastery not only of noble knowledge, such as economics and politics, but also of subterfuge, sabotage and deceit.
Power bred, naturally, those who are envious or disrespectful. Action bred reaction. That had been the whole point of my next meeting with my brother. Or better, lessons, as he preferred to call them. No one knew yet, however, that my brother would be next sacrifice of the Red Moon's Festival.
But how would the Kingdom take his death? Wouldn't that bring instability? My brother had just gone over how the power of an action isn't just its intent, but its collateral effect. The best action is one where both the intended effect and collateral effect worked for their actor. His death was certain to bring chaos.
Obviously, I inquired him about my worries.
"You're right to know the people will be afflicted. But only the harmless kind, that is, the peasantry. But the vassals of our Kingdom, the Lords, will see this as an opportunity to seize more power." My brother was eying me strangely, "This must be the most disinterested I have ever seen you about a sword fighting lesson."
Right, we were doing that.
"I'm going to teach you how to properly fight, and we will start with defense. Hold this card. No, not like that."
I never had so many problems on holding a damn card, but the nightmare finally ended. So the way to do it, is to have it held with the tip of your fingers against the root of your thumb. Sorta, since its difficult to explain.
"You do know I can use a sword better than a handful of knights, right?" I asked impatiently.
John nodded, "Indeed, but being better than a handful of knights isn't enough anymore. I'm going to rebuild the basis of your technique."
"What, you're teaching me how to kill a dragon?"
"I will pass the technique on to you. Practice, and maybe you can get good enough to slay one."
I think my mouth was slightly open. Was he serious? I, killing a dragon? I guess that would be pretty—
"Emilia, attention! Stop daydreaming."
I don't know what I was expecting, but our first lessons couldn't be more boring. John really didn't trust anything I had learned from before. From the ground up, we built movement, from stepping to running. How to cover ground, and how to twist and turn. We spent a lot of times on that, weeks went by, all the while we kept our classes on 'Theory of Power' as my brother liked to say.
I would fill books with his explanations, and his tales would cover a good chunk of it as told me the things he had seen with much more detail than he would at the feast. He would tell me of his thoughts, his conclusions, and the value of impressions. Not only from other people, but from himself. Certain conversations, he only heard because he was dressed like a beggar, while when he was dressed as a knight, the talk could be extremely different.
And yet, John seemed to always hold an optimistic view on things. He believed that many of the crimes he witnessed were but a result of a series of unfortunate causes and consequences.
"No one is born evil, Emilia." He told me frequently, just as much as he also reminded me that, "No one necessarily learns their lesson."
Some people would always do the wrong thing, while others would be able to look back and understand where things had gone wrong. I had an idea of this, I think. I've had my fair share of life outside the castle, though Sir Romsky would always eventually put his foot down and say 'Enough'. Then he would take me back to the castle.
The point is… people are people. Complicated beings not because we can't understand them ,but because no one opens up. Fear can be as strong as love, John told me, and many times, the pain love brings breeds further fear, which eventually turns into either regret, or anger. The wise mind, however, even at worst, fought to bring about calmness under the heaviest storm.
"Don't make decisions on impulses." He told me and I felt that one was personal for him.
The morning of that day was amazing, and we could see part of the city from the room we were studying, as well as the horizon covered in farms. It seemed so peaceful.
"Were you in love, John?" I asked him suddenly.
"W—what? From where does that question come from?" he asked me slightly red.
"It's just," how could I explain? "You seem dastardly optimistic about human nature. Sure, I understand how you told me goodness can bring about goodness, but there have been more than a few people who've tried to hurt you. And yet, you rode forward. Sometimes, I think there's something else holding you together."
I saw his eyes losing a bit of light.
"I suppose."
"Did something happen?"
"You must tell no one." He whispered, his eyes looking at the door. He then moved close to the window, opened it as to let the outside noise enter, and spoke low as I made my way to him from my desk.
"She is a peasant." He confessed.
"I suspected."
"You did?" he asked me surprised.
"Well, you've been for a long time among them. It was bound to happen." I rolled my eyes.
"I guess." He told me, his lips thin.
"Something else?" I wondered.
"She is also married."
I gasped a bit.
"Don't worry, she doesn't know who I am actually." He spoke softly, and I felt the subject tortured him. "Let's get back to our lesson, no?"
I didn't stop him.
"Don't move your sword like a barbarian! Hold your ground, tip pointed to your opponent!" He yelled, eying me from the ground up as I had a bout with Sir Romsky. "Spread more your footing, come on, now! Open your legs!"
That last comment left my cheeks slightly red, but Sir Romsky's strike woke me up from any impure thoughts.
"Attention, Emilia!" This time, I noticed my brother was smiling. The bugger was doing this on purpose. "Your enemies will try to distract you, but you ought to remain composed. Think of the end, the objective!"
Another strike from Sir Romsky brought me to the dirt.
"John, this style, doesn't work! How many bouts have I had that haven't ended with my ass on the ground!"
"My lady, such language is improper." Sir Romsky whispered and I was again flustered. Right. I can't talk like that in the castle as a Princess.
"Anyway", I continued, "You understand what I mean?"
"A demonstration then?" my brother offered, and I felt Sir Romsky shudder.
John came over and joined the small training pit, taking over the sword I had been training with.
"Sir Romsky," he bowed slightly, my guard returning the gesture. "On guard. Begin."
From the start, I felt like Sir Romsky had trouble on how to begin the duel. John, however, was unwavering. He had the sword held on tight, and yet with subtlety. I felt that the sword wasn't rigid on his hold, and yet, it was perfectly held.
Sir Romsky tried a few strikes, but with quick wrist movements, they had all been but naught. At the thir strike, from John's right, he moved his wrist, and with it, his switched his footing just enough to redirect Sir Romsky's attack while masterfully briging the end oh his own sword to Sir Romsky's gut.
"Satisfied?" He asked me, Sir Romsky behind him still fighting to hold his lunch.
The lesson resumed, and I didn't give up until I had brought a similar fate to Sir Romsky. Four hours later, I managed to put my guard on the ground.
"The beauty of this style is that it allows a flexible body to use its maneuverability against stronger opponents, Emilia. Nevertheless, though it may seem it suffices, having a shield is always the better option, so, that where we are going next. Take a rest tonight."
"No Theory lessons?" I asked between ragged breathing.
"Not tonight."
I don't think I ever took a more rewarding bath than I did that night.
%%%&%%%
"How many processes have you taken this week?" John asked.
I pulled a stack of papers and placed it over the desk between us.
"I've got 37. Though half of this merchants are surely trying to swindle me."
"Why you think that?"
"Because I'm a woman, despite being a princess."
John nodded. "Yeah, your rule will be fun."
"It can't remain like this. Every time a woman tries to make business, no one takes her seriously. Not only that, but they immediately try to appeal to shitty stuff, like marriages and flowers."
"There's nothing wrong with marriage and flowers."
"You know what I mean." I huffed.
John tried to smile, but even that didn't survive for too long. "You must realize, Emilia, that you will become a woman like no other. There's always a man at the top of the chain, and that has translated to people underestimating the feminine sex. I assure you, you will be dealing wit them until the end of your days."
"What if I change things?"
John didn't seem to have a quick answer to that, but I did give him his time.
"Just remember two things." He told me with two fingers held up, "First, is that every change must be gradual. Best one are those people don't even realize have happened. Second, I'm not sure how social changes work, but I can tell you how you want them to end up. The subject must become unimportant."
"How so?"
"There was a village of orcs on the north of Lusitania. The borders there are complicated at best due to the forests and mountains ranges so… what matters is that we ended up there."
"So?"
"Well, the village had the roles between the males and females quite well shared. Even to take care of kids, the man did some of the work. The reason, I believe for that change, was because that village was in such constant fighting with our Kingdom, and our neighbors, that female orcs needed to start doing some tasks usually reserved for males, such as hunting. The point is, change has to be justified, because when it is, it is very easy to make it an 'obvious' solution. Then, it becomes unimportant. Why debate what must be?"
I gave a small chuckle. "I suppose I'm an orc."
"What?"
"Becoming a queen by necessity, not a right. Isn't it somewhat the same?"
John nodded. "I suppose. You know, those female orcs… were good hunters. You can be a good king too."
I smiled mischievously. "How chaotic would be an orc female ruler over Lusitania?"
%%%&%%%
"Raise your shield Emilia!"
It was unbelievable how he could talk and hit me at the same time. My shield clamored as his sword hit it with another strike, and my balance threatened to leave me. God damn it, this was too heavy to remain maneuverable.
"Use its weight. Remember, make use of its weakness and make it a strength. Don't try to move too much if you suck at moving."
"What—a nice—way—of putting."
But then I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. As my brother battered my shield pushing me harder and harder with every strike, I saw an opening. His next strike came, and while I put some resistance at first, in the next moment, I let it fall. Spinning around I see John's sword falling besides me onto the forgotten shield, and with my sword on my other hand, my strike on John's gut was clean.
I was smiling like a madman when I noticed my brother hadn't left the ground. He was still sitting on the dirt, a hand over the region I hit him, his eyes seemingly lost in a memory.
"You okay?" I asked him, more out curiosity than worry. There's no way I actually hurt him.
"Yeah, its just… That move you pulled it off just now. One of the last things that dragon ever did was see me pull off something like that." He was smiling as he said that, and as I heard him my face grew more and more flustered.
"Tomorrow is the day, you know, and I had really no way of knowing if you were learning anything. I wouldn't be here to see you govern, see you swindle the top burghers, or see your armies bring to you some sort of victory. But if anyone expected me to be a good King, they should expect you to become a good Queen."
My nose started clogging up.
"And you are going to forfeit your life without ever telling me why?" I asked him a question he didn't want to answer. This time, however, he told me something.
"It will be obvious tomorrow."
%%%&%%%%
It was right before the royal family left for the Grand Plaza for the Red Moon that John held my hand.
"Put this on." I felt something cold, round against my palm.
He gave me a ring and I slid it over my finger.
"Never let go of it." He whispered, and I heard the fear in his voice.
I promised myself I wouldn't.
"Good luck."
%%%&%%%
The sacrifice came before the feast. Hades was supposed to have first his present, and only then we would eat. That was the way his relationship with my people was like. He taketh, and then he giveth. We died on our borders to protect our land, and he would make sure we wouldn't suffer to great of a threat from the outside.
Some said he was the most generous of the Three Brothers. The one whose blessing, that of safety, was invaluable. To know that each and every one of our soldiers souls would be ripped by the master of the underworld himself, and in exchange, he would save the lives residing in the kingdom, was supposed to be a privilege.
A blessing in itself that one of the Three Brothers had made a deal with us, humans of this Kingdom.
The Holy Choir sang the typical ritual song, the one before the sacrifice was chosen. At the end of the song, a minute was given as tradition. It was said that in the old times, that minute was supposed to be used by Hades himself to choose his sacrifice.
Afterwards, due to his silence, that who wishes to be a sacrifice may take a step forward. And voila. The man (usually) burns and everyone gets to eat until their bellies explode. A bit morbid, but it hadn't been too bad until today, as I realized I was supposed to eat after my brother is put to the fire. I wonder how the families and friends felt, seeing their loved one burn at the steak.
And the choir's song came to an end, and with it, silence reigned. The Red Moon was high in the sky, almost on the top. It was then when the wind got chiller. The temperature suddenly drop by god knows how much. The cross at the center of the Plaza, the one where the sacrifice is tied, trembled. Pretty sure I saw people dig quite the hole to make sure it stayed in place.
It was then its bottom, buried under withered roots and dry twigs burned a blue flame. Skeleton hands rose from the ground, and eventually four full skeletons, twice the size of a normal man, left the dirt. They took large steps, normal for things of that size.
No one dared to move, not when Hades expressed himself after centuries for the first time.
"It is a blessing," my father started, and I saw from the side of my vision that his eyes had tears, "that my son, of the purest intentions, of the most virtuous will, is chosen to reignite our relationship with the Wealthy Lord. For more centuries of peace and prosperity!"
It was admirable of my father as he had managed to not choke once. I surely would've had. My throat right now was closed, and I almost couldn't breathe. Tears fell down as my brother was taken by the creatures without a fight.
Him, a man who had taken down dragon. Sure, I was fucking afraid of those skeletons, but my brother? He was choosing not to fight.
I closed my eyes. At the moment, I wished man was able to shut his ears, for the screams I heard next would torment me forever.