For the record, this generally uses the official names of characters, items and places that come from Awakening, such as Bellhalla, Travant, Helswath, etc. I don't believe he was featured in Awakening, but I'm using Claud over Claude as that's the name given by the wiki.
It is an odd feeling to go into a battle knowing that you will perish at the end of it; to know that the vast majority of your army, led by many close friends, will be incinerated, and that only very few will remain. Worse still is to know that of those who survive, most will either die horrible deaths after an age of torture or disappear without a trace during the inevitable dark years that will befall the continent. Normally, if one were to be made aware of their own tragic fate, they would do all that they could to avoid it. It was possible that by returning to Edda Castle and denouncing Sigurd as a traitor like the lords of Freege and Dozel had done not a day ago, Father Claud should have been able to live on for a long time past the battle in which Chalphy's army would be defeated.
But all the same, he could not bring himself to do that. He had faith that Lord Blaggi's orders would be for the best. The thought of disobeying them had never even crossed Claud's mind. Few could claim ancestry with one of the crusaders, and even fewer had the honour of being able to communicate with them. He could not possibly ignore what he had been told at Blaggi Tower. Unfortunately, however, he was ordered to keep all that he knew entirely to himself- and he now knew a great deal. He knew that Lex would die at the hands of Lord Langobalt's Helswath. He knew that young Azel was to be turned to stone by the order of his own brother. This grim day marked the upcoming return of the Lopt Empire, and would forever be remembered as the Battle of Bellhalla. There was still at least a year to come before Arvis and his Roten Ritter crushed their foes with meteors, reducing Sigurd, Claud and their entourage to mere ashes. But he had already seen this final day come, and he had seen himself staring up into the falling meteors with a smile of acceptance. Each day now carried a sense of finality, every moment one step closer to the flames set to cause his demise.
The pirates of Orgahil were now nearly defeated, and the army were preparing to return to the Agustrian mainland. Sigurd still needed to stay a little longer to capture the fortress on the island, alongside a handful of trusted knights of Chalphy. Just yesterday, Alec, Noish and Arden were considered loyal, trustworthy knights of the kingdom. Sigurd was thought of as a kind yet forceful leader, the son of a respected duke, and was well liked by the populace due to his efforts in quelling the aggression from Agustria and Verdane. They did not yet know that this had changed. So far, no one riding with them was aware of the death of Grannvale's prince, nor who was being blamed for it. Soon, they were going to find out, and everything would collapse around them. All of them were to be declared traitors and enemies of Grannvale. No one could then return to the lives they had once led. Claud could not help but admire the people in the army such as Holyn, Beowulf and Dew; this was not their fight by any means, and he had expected them to leave the instant Dozel's Grauen Ritter arrived in Northern Agustria. At Blaggi Tower, however, he had been told that no one ever left the army except those ordered to flee in the final battle and those who soon would return to Leonster. Claud knew also of the massacre that was going to take place in the desert on the same day as the Battle of Bellhalla- of King Travant of Thracia, and how the 2 year-old Altena, sitting in Madino Castle, in a year's time could do nothing but watch the death of her parents, and be taken in by their murderer. Perhaps he knew more than he would have liked to.
Again, there was little that Claud did not know concerning the fate of his allies and their children. Many of the children were not born yet, and some parents were not even married. Claud found it amusing that he already knew the name and gender of each child; he would not tell anybody or do anything about his thoughts, but merely chuckle to himself. No one was to know anything. He was even forbidden from telling the dancer Sylvia that she had minor holy blood- descended from Blaggi, in fact. He thought it likely that they were in fact distant cousins, although he had not asked. One of the few questions that Blaggi did not answer was whether her children- their names were to be Leen and Corpul- would inherit this. The only response was a mere laugh.
It was strange to hear the laugh of one who spoke in such a monotone voice as Blaggi- while the crusader usually had a cold, chilling voice that did nothing to reassure those who heard it, the tone of his laughter was warmer, yet maintained the overwhelming echoing qualities that gave one a sense of awe at Blaggi's power. Most importantly, it reminded Claud that Blaggi was human.
Despite the draconic powers granted to all the crusaders at Darna, they were always human. While there were other religions followed in Edda, even by fellow descendants of Blaggi, Claud rejected them mainly for his dislike of an idea of a wise, loving and powerful god. Claud had always thought that the mere concept of a God was foolish, anyway. Perhaps in a more peaceful world, it would be plausible, but in a world with child hunts, demon dragons and the Lopt Empire's pending return, a benevolent God never seemed to fit. Some argued that Saint Myra and the Crusaders were sent down by a God to end these things, but to Claud, this only served to make them less human- mortal deities like the Crusaders may have been imbued with draconic power, but they were still human, and subject to the same emotions and feelings as any average citizen. It was hard for him to want to believe in anything else.
And perhaps because of these human qualities, Blaggi did not answer all questions he was asked. He refused to answer the question of holy blood most likely for his own amusement, for leaving Claud in the dark. And Claud could live with that. While all others lived a life not knowing what would come next, not knowing their own fate, Claud knew not only his destiny but that of many others, and he couldn't help but feel lucky, even when he could not know all that he wanted, or perhaps when he knew too much. He may not have been pleased with the course of events and that they were going to lead to the rebirth of the Lopt Empire, but he knew that it would fall quickly, and that Jugdral was to quickly return to a period of peace.
Sigurd's voice called for Father Claud, interrupting his train of thought. A place that had just been a bloody battlefield was not the best place for contemplation, he told himself, but he knew that this was different. It was surreal to be able to know when you would die, and it was exactly this information that Claud had received. It was difficult for him to stay focused on the surroundings. The Grauen Ritter of Dozel were likely already at Agusty Castle. Looking over to the east, he could already see a squadron of Silessian Pegasus Knights flying gradually towards his army, as he had been told there would be. He now knew with absolute certainty that everything he had been told was entirely correct, and a strange indescribable expression appeared on his face. He now knew his ultimate fate, but from this point until his life met an early end, he could be safe in the knowledge that things would go exactly as Lord Blaggi wanted them to go. This was another of those things he would just have to live with.
Almost a year had passed in Silesse, waiting in Sailane Castle. Quan, Ethlyn and Fin had all returned to Leonster. Claud himself had temporarily returned home to Edda, but had not met with a warm reception. Had it not been for Queen Rahna's interference, he would have been tried for treason and executed. Despite having known exactly what would happen, Claud went ahead with this anyway. The citizens of Edda were now officially backing those of Chalphy, campaigning against the accusations placed on Sigurd and Lord Byron. Lord Ring of Jungby also had supported Sigurd's cause, before dying mysteriously. He was replaced with his son Andre, a man with entirely different views on the matter. Although none said it, many thought that the death of Lord Ring was Andre's doing, and Claud was able to confirm it, having been informed of it back in Blaggi Tower. What was not known was that Andre and the Beige Ritter intended to soon pay a visit to Duke Daccar in Silesse's Zaxon castle to dispatch a group of Pegasus Knights allied with Queen Rahna. Claud wished he was able to warn the flight leader of the knights, but he knew this could not be done. As the date of his death grew closer, he more and more frequently considered betraying Blaggi's orders. But each time he soon went back on such ideas, and mentally reprimanded himself for even thinking it. Blaggi was his lord, and he had devoted his life to following Blaggi's orders and teachings.
Many children had been born since the army fled to Silesse. Ayra and Noish were blessed with twins, and Aideen gleefully announced her second pregnancy. Claud somewhat regretted not marrying, but all the same he did not feel particularly saddened. As duke of Edda, he had long feared being forced into marriage, but he was ashamed that he had produced no heir. He had not asked Blaggi of who would govern the dukedom of Edda, as he felt that he already knew the answer. It seemed most likely that someone of Blaggi blood would be searched for in order to preserve the lineage. What this probably meant was that some noble would take the position themselves, find a wife who they would claim was in fact descended from Blaggi and former Dukes of Edda, and sit comfortably in Claud's old position. Claud still had the Valkyrie staff in his possession, and if used it would be lost forever, damaged beyond repair. Anyone claiming Blaggi lineage would be unable to prove it, and so whether or not they truly had any holy blood did not matter. If they wanted to rule over Edda, all that really mattered was the approval of Emperor Arvis and his wife Deidre.
Claud had always felt guilty that he could not tell Sigurd about his wife. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to tell him, yet there was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, telling him that Sigurd deserved to know. Determined though he was to carry out his orders most of the time, with every injustice he was forced to let slip by, Claud felt a rising desire to hatch a plot to defeat Arvis in Bellhalla, taking Velthomer Castle and preventing the tragedies from taking place. But Blaggi had warned him that it was only a matter of time before another person bearing Loptyr blood was found and the events occurred anyway, with no visible way to prevent them. It was something he could never hope to understand, and this was another of the things he simply had to accept.
In a week's time, the battle for Silesse would commence. Maios and Daccar of the royal family would be defeated, and Queen Rahna would once again rule the entire country. Claud knew she hadn't long left to live, and this was another fact he felt guilty about. She had been a good ruler, one much loved by the people. Her successor, Ferry, was never going to be quite as popular a queen. But even if the people shunned and rejected her, Ferry was not the sort of woman to give up on something as important as ruling a country. During her rule, the land of Silesse was going to slowly going to recover from the bloody war that Sigurd's army were about to set into motion. Even once the empire took over the country and Ferry died, the kingdom would remain prosperous, in comparison to the other subdued nations of Jugdral.
Claud wondered if it was reasonable to so blindly and unquestioningly believe Blaggi's words. Perhaps it was a trick; a test, more likely. But at the moment he saw no reasons to think this, nor did he want to.
The battle had now begun. Sigurd's forces at Sailane were clashing with two squadrons. One was one of the legendary Holy Brigades of Silesse, led by the Angelic Knight Deet'var. The other was a legion of wind mages, led by the famous bishop of Sety, Cuvuli. Claud was experienced in the use of tomes, yet chose to forgo any form of offensive magic on the battlefield, His job, as bestowed upon him by Blaggi, was to play the role of the overseer. He was to ensure that things went as they had been foreseen. He never was a soldier, and he had never wished to be. Even as the white snows that covered the land gradually changed to crimson tones in the thick of battle, sometimes with his own blood, his role was to treat the wounded and to watch.
Deet'var's squad dashed through the harsh blizzards as if they were nothing. Even at the higher altitudes in which they flew, the riders did not seem to feel it at all. He could tell, even from such a great distance and with such fog, that their faces were determined ones. It was a tragedy in and of itself that while they would try so hard to win this battle, their ultimate fate was to fall, and to gradually be hidden by the cover of snow until all evidence of their efforts were gone. The history books would not be kinder. Deet'var would only be remembered as a traitor who rebelled against the rightful rulers and was quickly shot down- barely worth mentioning. It seemed unlikely to Claud that any of his allies would even notice the focus evident in the faces of the Holy Brigade. Everyone else was being relied on for combat. They did not have time to stare into the face of the enemy, for their sole aim was to bring them down.
As the wind mages then commenced their attack, Claud found himself once again gazing at his foes. This time, it was not determination but melancholy found in the eyes of the enemy commander, Bishop Cuvuli. In the bishop's hands was not a weapon but a staff. At once everything explained itself to Claud. He was unable to stop himself from hurrying to his foe before stopping and holding out his hand. Cuvuli glared at him, and did not respond.
Claud was resolute in his aim to get the truth out of the enemy priest. "Honourable Bishop Cuvuli, you have no wish to fight us, do you?" Cuvuli continued to glare, before slowly and calmly lowering himself to the ground. Now sitting in a meditative state, the blue robed minister turned his head upwards to face Claud.
"No, Father Claud. You are quite correct. But Duke Maios has given orders for me to lead the mage's squad; to inspire them, or the church would pay the forfeit." This was what Claud has expected. A bishop like Cuvuli would put nothing before their duty to the church, and Claud now felt the same misery that plagued the man sitting beside him. For his mission, too, was a duty to the church, and his would end with the same fate.
Claud too now sat down on the snowy wastes that would by the end of the day turn red. "Good bishop, is this perhaps why you bring only staves to support, and no weapons with which to fight?"
The words were almost lost underneath the harsh howling of the wind, but Claud could still make out the response. "Father Claud, you again have guessed accurately. The sleep staff is effective in battle, yet I am still not directly doing any harm... I thought it a good choice. The Libro staff, too, is very useful in conflict, but it can do no damage... I prefer this to fighting. I could not stand to fight."
Claud merely nodded, satisfied with his enemy's words. This was the attitude he had expected of a beloved and respected bishop of the Church of Sety. "In desperate times, holy men like my Lord Blaggi would fight regardless of it going against their ideals. Tell me, bishop, are you not the same? Do you not consider this conflict a desperate time?"
"No. This is nothing but two power-hungry fools desperate to grasp the throne that does not belong to them. I truly support our Queen Rahna all the way. I am forced to support the Thove army. I must follow the duke's orders or have my church destroyed..." The blast from a wind tome flew over their heads, forcing both holy men to drop with their face on the ground. The effect of the roaring blizzard concealed them, and in an instant they were able to rise again, to continue their conversation without fear of being seen.
Claud scanned the area nervously before responding. "I would gladly fight for Sigurd, but I have orders from my Lord Blaggi to do otherwise. He has given me the role of supervisor, so to speak. I may only heal, to prevent deaths where deaths are not scripted."
Claud could see a confused expression on Cuvuli's face, barely visible past the ever stronger blizzards. "Scripted, you said?"
Lord Blaggi had made it clear not to tell anyone of the future's course, but Claud supposed it did not truly matter here. He wanted people to understand what he knew, how it affected him, and did it really cause any harm if someone else knew? Normally, going against Blaggi would not be something he ever considered, but Blaggi was, after all, human. Blaggi taught forgiveness, too- no doubt he would understand.
But then he remembered his mission, the role his lord bestowed upon him. And while Blaggi understood the pain Claud was feeling, there was no chance of him allowing Claud to disobey. He was given this mission for a reason, and any deviation from it could cause a different outcome- an outcome where no one was able to defeat the Dark Prince Julius- who of course was not actually born yet. Even after a year, this was still incredibly difficult for him to imagine, and even more difficult for him to understand why things had to happen the way they did. All the same, his role was to ensure everything did indeed go as foreseen, and Blaggi had told him that no one was to know. So Claud could let no one know.
Cuvuli was concerned by his friend's complete silence. "Father Claud? Have I said something to offend you?"
Claud wanted to warn the bishop, to tell him to flee the battlefield where he was to die. But he knew that to do so was to disobey Blaggi, and to ignore the role he had. "No, bishop, you haven't." Claud thought for a while before continuing. "Tell me, bishop. Are you afraid to die?"
"I am not. I have accepted that I will likely die here, in fact." Claud smiled at this, although he hoped the bishop did not notice. Cuvuli was a good man, and Claud did not want to feel guilty for letting him die.
"Bishop Cuvuli, thank you for our brief talk. I must leave now, and so should you… we must do our respective duties." This was not what Claud had wanted to say, but he saw no choice. He could not reveal the secret, and Cuvuli- though nothing but virtuous and pious- had to die. That was the way things had to happen; and Claud could not stop it- though this would not save him from feeling guilty after the fact.
All he could do was to do exactly as he had been commanded to so long ago at the tower- to ensure that all who needed to survive did so. Though he knew it was his duty to, he did not watch to ensure the bishop was slain.
Another week had passed, and the war for Silesse was over. Sigurd's army was stationed now at Zaxon, preparing for the inevitable march back into Grannvale. While many of his comrades were stocking up on equipment and getting ready for the coming battle, Claud was not. All of his preparations were made long ago. Great though his burden was, knowledge of the future of course came with benefits.
As he had no more important role to do, he spent his time monitoring everyone else in the castle. He did not mind- he saw it only as extension of his duty. Patrolling the halls of Zaxon allowed him to better keep watch on everyone and guide events towards their intended path, and he was grateful to Blaggi that he had been afforded the opportunity.
However, as the fateful battle grew ever closer, Claud felt less and less sure about his coming destiny. He had never before doubted Blaggi, and yet with a reality so surreal as this- where he knew exactly when all those around him would die- it became difficult to accept. He had been shown the body of his friends, the body of his commander, even his own body- and been told that this was the future that should happen, that he wanted to happen. He had thought that he had made his peace with it all, but every time he thought about it more it made him shiver, and he would distract himself with other thoughts. It soon became a half-hourly routine of sorts- to stop his patrols, deep in thought, and continue again with increased fervour immediately after.
He wandered past the small chamber where Oifey slept, and peered in to see the boy writing a letter. Claud was puzzled by this- paper was scarcer than ever now, and Oifey was no doubt aware. So what compelled him to waste it?
"Father Claud? What is it?" He had the boy's attention now, so he supposed it was best to ask.
"I'm only wondering what you're writing." At hearing this, Oifey got out of the chair to show the paper to Claud.
"It's a report of the battles for Silesse. I'm going to send it to Leonster, to Sir Fin."
"Fin? Why not Sir Quan? Wouldn't it be better to send it to him?"
"Father Claud, haven't you heard? Sir Quan and Lady Ethlyn are coming to Grannvale with the Lance Knights. They'll help us in the battle against Lord Langobalt and Lord Reptor." Though he kept it to himself, this worried Claud. Blaggi had not foreseen anything of this kind. Had he gone wrong somewhere? Had he not ensured the future he had been instructed to? As per his routine, he decided to distract himself from those worries by reading over the report. A particular section caught his eye, and he read over what had been written on the enemy commanders.
"Cuvuli- a corrupt priest backing Duke Maios. Attempted to put our troops to sleep and have them killed by the blizzards."
Claud elected not to read any more of it.
Lex had died just as was foreseen. Tailto was distraught, but Claud found himself unable to console her. It was too easy to simply resort to a reassurance that there was nothing that she could have done, nothing that anybody could have done- but that wasn't true. He knew it was coming since almost two years ago. He could have stopped it; he could have warned Lex, and he wouldn't have to deal with the hysterical widow who now came to him for guidance. Although it was a thought that he had in passing several times, and imagined many others did, for the first time, Claud felt like nothing more than a fraud. He was seeing preventable deaths and working to guarantee them. He was failing to reassure anyone. Could there be anyone less fit for his priestly effects than himself? Surely this went beyond sin. Surely this was immoral- and he had no doubt that he would be punished.
Even now, thinking so little of his vows to his Lord, Claud could not bring himself to disobey Blaggi's commands. Every time he saw a dead body that he could have kept alive, he shuddered, but immediately envisioned piles of similar mangled corpses lying before the Dark Lord Loptyr. It made him uneasy at best, but it still helped all the same- this mental reminder that it was all for the greater good was no doubt the only thing that kept him sane.
Phinora was a miserable town, Claud thought. It was completely surrounded with an atmosphere of dread and suspicion, although Claud had no doubt this was due to the circumstances of their journey. What truly made Phinora miserable was its emptiness. Looking out to the south or the east, one would see nothing but desert. To the north and the west, endless insurmountable cliff faces. They would, of course, need to make their way around these cliffs somehow, and Claud could only suspect that it would be through the desert that they did this.
What truly caused Claud's anxiousness was not the atmosphere or the location, but Sir Sigurd. Sigurd was far quieter than he had ever usually been. Most people had determined that it was nervousness about marching into his own home country intending to fight. Claud suspected otherwise.
It was time to set off, finally, from the wretched desert town. While Claud would not miss it, he was not pleased to be moving on. He felt an understandable discomfort knowing that where he was now marching towards was where he would soon be killed. And it was now, despite his conviction, that he truly began to question his own devotion. After all, he could easily slip away at any time. Sandstorms were frequent, and obscured vision. If he chose to, he could certainly escape.
But he did not. It rather reminded him of several old tales of Blaggi that he had come to know so well. The Crusader's closest companion was an elderly priest who had saved him from becoming a sacrifice to Loptyr as a child. From this early point all the way through to the fall of the empire, the old priest stood by Blaggi's side at every point. He travelled all across the continent, braving harsh deserts and collapsing fortresses, following Blaggi's every movement. He never fought the empire, for he could not fight. He merely travelled alongside Blaggi out of his own sense of honour and devotion. Claud was certain that this was what Blaggi now expected from him.
Behind him, he heard Sigurd speaking to Lady Aideen. It was certainly rude to, but Claud felt that if he were to oversee as Blaggi wanted then it would be best to listen in on the conversation in case he learned something important.
"The elders have told me that a group of Leonster knights were attacked by King Travant of Thracia. They're… they're all dead. Quan, Ethlyn- even Altena."
Claud froze. This was not supposed to happen. This had not been foretold. And this surely meant that he had failed. They were supposed to live, and it was his duty to ensure it! What had happened? Where did he go wrong?
It couldn't be true. It was certainly a lie, a mistake, just some minor confusion. But he didn't know. It was entirely possible- perhaps even likely- that the error lay with him. And if it did then it seemed also probable that the world was coming to ruin. If the one path foreseen that would lead to peace had not been ensured, then it was only reasonable that peace itself was under threat. And it was his fault.
Leaving Phinora ultimately did nothing to improve his mood, for they still needed to cross an immeasurable expanse of desert. They would spend several days passing through it, before eventually facing off against Lord Reptor, the last foe they would defeat. From that battle onwards, they would march to Velthomer, and then to Bellhalla where many of them, Claud himself included, would meet their end. This was likely to happen within about a week's time.
Now, more than ever before, Claud's thoughts and emotion all conflicted with each other. He did not know if he should warn the group, turn them away right at the capital's door. He did not know if they would listen. He did not know if there was any truth to the rumours about Quan and Ethlyn, and what it meant if it was proven true. He did not know if it was best to simply abandon his duty. He no longer felt he knew anything, and he was terrified.
He doubted that he had ever been fulfilling his duty to begin with. How much did he need to do to "oversee"? By healing those who were not supposed to die, knowing prior that they would be injured and would need his help, he had thought he was fulfilling it. Now, with the knowledge that he may have failed, it no longer seemed so. Now, nothing seemed certain.
The desert had been traversed without much difficulty, and Reptor slain. The army now rested in Velthomer, preparing for what would be the final journey. General Aida had assured them that House Velthomer was always on their side, and most seemed satisfied. Claud, of course, saw right through the deception, but it was of no good. He was not supposed to tell a soul.
Claud saw no reason to stay with the rest of the group. Knowing that they would die the following day, seeing them smiling and relieved did nothing to improve his mood. Claud retired early, and prayed. It was almost surreal, to know that this would be the last time you ever did something your life revolved around, Claud thought. His whole life had revolved around his duty to Blaggi and his duty to Edda. For the last two years, Edda was forgotten. Since that day at Blaggi Tower, his duty to his lord had become the only thing to him.
Claud wondered now if it was worth it. Blaggi would no doubt have found someone to be the overseer if Claud had not chosen such a path. Did he even need an overseer? Couldn't he fulfil that role himself if necessary? His life as faithful servant of Blaggi was perhaps a waste, he now thought. His devotion now was to lead him to a fiery death, and his place as Duke Edda was replaced with the position of a despised traitor.
It became difficult for him to focus on his thoughts, and even more difficult to hold back the tears of frustration. He had given away everything for the sole purpose of ensuring his own friends died in agony. He too would die, the Lopt Empire would return, and everything he had worked for would fail. Tormented by these thoughts, it took what felt like hours before he finally fell asleep for the last time.
Claud found himself by a beach. It was early morning judging by the pale colour of the skies, and looking out across the ocean he found nothing but endless milky-green fog. He turned around only to find he was on a small, uninhabited island. There was not a single animal, not a plant but the deteriorating grass on the sole hill behind him. Still in a dazed state, he stared out across the shore for a minute before the fog began to miraculously clear, and a tower was revealed, piercing the soft mists that had blocked Claud's view only a moment before.
It did not take long for Claud to realise where he was. The tower could only be the Tower of Blaggi, and he therefore could only be near Orgahil- perhaps the furthest place in Jugdral from the castles of Velthomer.
"Sorry for doing all this without warning, but I need to explain a few things."
It was the same monotone voice he had heard two years ago. It normally provided Claud no comfort, but now this was not the case. At a time like this nothing was more relieving than hearing Blaggi speak, with no anger, no regrets evident in his voice. He did not know if he had indeed failed his mission as he had feared, but he did know that it did not matter. Blaggi taught forgiveness. He did understand.
"You've done just fine, Claud. No need to worry." Claud was silent. "You did all I needed you to do. All that remains is your end, if you're still willing to accept that fate."
Claud slowly nodded, still not speaking a word. Blaggi laughed- his, warm, human laugh- and Claud felt a smile creep up on his face. Such a thing had not happened for quite some time, and Blaggi knew it. "It is good to see you smile, Claud. I appreciate that the task I have given you is a heavy burden, but remember exactly what I said. I foresaw a smile, Claud. It was your job to oversee that too." Blaggi chuckled again, and Claud looked across the ocean once more to see an ethereal figure walking across the waves.
"This all isn't real. That's why you're here. Only a dream. When you wake up you'll still be in Velthomer, preparing for the end. This was the only way I could get the necessary information to you, Claud." The figure had reached the island now, and Claud was afforded an opportunity to look at his lord. He appeared young, with Claud's golden hair and similar plain white robes.
"You will die, Claud. You know that. But it won't be the end, even then." The fog suddenly engulfed the island, and once it cleared Claud found himself in a small room. In the corner of the cramped room, a small mattress lay covered in blankets. Claud stared, and one of the blanket moved to reveal a young blonde boy, stirring in his sleep.
"This is Sleuf. He's only five years old now, but once he contacts your spirit he'll look just as I do now. This isn't my true appearance, you know. Only a disguise I thought was fitting. You'll tell Sleuf everything he wants to know. You'll be able to answer all of his questions.
The pale mist returned again and enveloped the room. When it faded, Claud found himself now in a church. The church was seemingly very expensive, adorned with fine purple silk, and the walls were lined with works of art. Claud stopped for a moment and stared at the painting on the far right of the room. Each painting had the same characteristics of blonde hair and white robes, but this one was different. It had long flowing hair and all too familiar eyes. This was him.
"You will be remembered. The world won't forget what you have done. They may never know of your role, but they will know of your efforts to restore peace and order. You are to be almost worshipped. The people will learn from what you did, what you said. You will be revered, Claud. You will never be forgotten."
The mysterious haze consumed him once more. When it dissipated, Claud saw nothing but blackness, before the figure of Blaggi emerged from the absolute dark. Finally mustering enough confidence, Claud spoke.
"Was this all necessary, my lord? Did it need to be me?" Blaggi only laughed, as he had done when asked a question so long ago.
"I would normally have no intention of answering your question, Claud. You should know that." There was complete silence for a moment. "However, I suppose I should. It was both a duty and a test. I realised an overseer would be useful, and you were the only person I could give such a role to. You were the only one I thought would be able to pass the test."
"So was it never necessary, my lord?" Claud asked again.
"It's impossible for anyone to say," came Blaggi's response, his face falling somewhat. "Things would likely have gone the same way regardless, and it was impossible to be sure. In fact, I would not have given you this duty if I did not see it as an opportunity."
"An opportunity for what? What was it that you had desired to gain?"
"Your test, Claud. Seeing your actions and your thoughts when placed under this burden has been very valuable."
"And what was it a test of, my lord?"
"Determination. Devotion. Willpower. Such traits as those. And you passed, Claud. You have satisfied me. For even when you doubted, even when you considered rejecting your duty, and even when you thought it was all for nought, you did not give in. You stayed devoted to me. You are even prepared to die if I order it."
It was rare for the crusader god's voice to ever hold a hint of emotion, yet now Claud could swear there was something. He was not sure of what it was. It could have been appreciation. It could have been satisfaction. For a brief moment he even thought it was awe.
"You will now awake, Claud. I look forward to seeing you again once the meteor brings your task to an end." The darkness began to expand gradually, and the figure of Blaggi was concealed. Claud felt his eyes begin to close, and the total blackness shifted into a blinding light.
He woke up with a new sense of determination. He knew what he had to do.
The march had gone ahead as planned. Now, the grand ceremony was underway. The army was to be welcomed home into Bellhalla, and they were to be absolved of all blame. Claud tried his best to not look suspicious, although he supposed it did not truly matter. Now, he only waited for the fateful words which would change everything.
"Sigurd of Chalphy, I hereby sentence you to death for your crimes of treason. His majesty will not be seeing you, today or ever."
Claud did not dare look at his companion's faces. He would not be able to cope with their expressions of shock and disbelief, and he knew it. He stared up into the skies, waiting for the meteors to begin their destructive fall. Screams filled the air as the meteors slowly made their impact. Some scrambled in attempts to escape, yet Claud stood still, watched as the remaining meteors fell.
His robe had been set alight by the ravaging heat of the spell, but he took little notice. This was his fate, and he had accepted it. There were times of doubt, but in his heart he knew that he had accepted it two years ago.
He collapsed onto the ground, his entire body completely overcome by the flames. He was desperate to regain his footing. He wanted to die standing, smiling at the sky, as Blaggi had shown him. He did not aim to defy his foes, only to show them that he was not afraid of his fate.
One final meteor appeared in the sky, directly above him. He had not realised the great speed at which they fell. He stood up proudly, and once again directed his eyes towards the terrible fireball.
The meteor hit and exploded violently. He was almost crushed by the sheer impact alone, and yet he stood up once more. He could tell now that this was it, that he was dying. He only had two seconds left in this world. And still, he smiled.
In his final moments, he heard a voice seemingly magical in nature, surely so quiet only he could hear it. It was the same soft, monotone voice he had so often heard before, but the unknown emotion he had sensed in his dream was present too.
"Do not call me your lord, for we are as equals."