Chapter 1: Tides Of Chaos
From the pitch smoke rising from the open field, the blurred vision of Abel focused upon a silhouette in the distance. He couldn't make it out. Sweat cascaded down his forehead, sinking into his lips. Fingers dug deeply beneath the rain-littered dirt, but something about his position provided him with an inability to stand. Knee sat struck cold within the murky puddle, the black attire nestled upon his frame dripping with tiny droplets of the falling quintet.
'I can't stand…' the boy lightly exclaimed to himself, a gasp of fright escaping his lips. Scurrying through the dread of the ground, forearms were pressed forth in place of legs. Dragging his form in a quick rush towards the single individual standing in the distance.
Was he close or far away? Abel couldn't ascertain through the glare of the sun. Its brightly lit endeavour unfolding before his eyes, barring proper vision and so stopping him from witnessing the true essence of whom it was in the distance. But he stopped, the whistling of a familiar voice sounding in the background of his position.
A crackling of his neck allowed him to intake the area behind him with a painful jerk. The noticeable person now sat beside me, laden in a coat almost mimicking his very own. White fingers tucked around the frail bicep, the familiar male lacing the arm around his neck as he helped Abel to stand to his feet.
"What happened, Krusnik?" the green eyes of the comrade fixed on the vanishing form in the distance. Like a flutter in the wind did the enemy disperse into seemingly nothing. "I thought you could do better against members of the Rosen Kreuz…"
Around their position, a riddle area of countless corpses drained into the earth, there life's essence faded into the abyss known as death. Abel's eyes sat shunned from sight by thin eyelids fallen to conceal their hue. His voice trailed, softly and slowly…almost sorrowful, "I couldn't…save them. I'm sorry, Father Hugue…"
Roaring engines sounded over head, brushing winds caressing through the dirt ridden ground; uplifting clumps of murk to scrap against the pair of AX agents. The bruised grey skies were abruptly interrupted by numerous voices screaming from above. The main one resounding from a sister, Esther Blanchett; crying out to Abel and Hugue to grab the robe ladder dangling directly in front of them.
In lieu of Abel lifting a finger, Hugue's supple digits grasping tightly onto the centre piece, slowly hooking his foot onto one sitting lower. Before long, both Abel and Hugue sat on the deck to the Iron Maiden battleship. Hugue lost in contemplation, while Abel sat lost in despair. No more than a few words passed through his lips before black out, "Isaak Fernand von Kampfer."
From the bowl of the pipe emitted several framing of smoke. The aroma of tobacco filling through the room occupied by all but one AX members. Teeth clamped down upon the tip, lips pursed so as to puff numerously, igniting the ember and releasing more stench into the atmosphere. A brown hue was revealed in full contrast to a pale complexion, the idle stare of the Professor moving to eclipse the crimson cardinal, Caterina Sforza.
Passing through her docile appearance came words of a harsh under-tone, their direction placed towards the AX gathering, "Alright!" her palm slammed against the desk before her. "Inform the department of Inquisition about the situation, Sister Kate." The response from the opaque female was instant, no words to reply just a simple gesture of her head and disappearance. "Gunslinger, Father Leon, Father Hugue, I wish for you three to continue an in-depth investigation into want exactly went on in the Desert." The triad of priests exited the room almost immediately after the orders were given, each replying with a gesture of their own, the only word spoken from that of Father Tres.
The last remaining AX members, Vaclav Havel and William Walter Wordsworth, seemed to appropriate positions directly before her eminence. Neither spoke for fear of the cardinal's wrath, they simple stood their, idle…staring and contemplating. Thinking of the next motion and what to do about the growing threat of the Rosen Kreuz.
"Your eminence, may I suggest that we attempt to negotiate with Von Kampfer?" Father Havel's ever respectful tone glittered, breaking the growing silence. His suggestion caught both the attention of the Professor and Caterina. The newly formed pair now staring idly at the dark haired priest.
As each went to respond, both neither got the time nor chance before an interruption screamed through the door. The wood object collided heavily against the small table nestled behind it, a vibration travelling through the interior of the supposed private room. Draped in a crimson robe over-laying white attire, Cardinal Francesco de Medici bore his deadly sneer at the trio.
Ever brash, ever fiery; his voice screamed throughout the room and trailing down the hallway, urging several fathers to stop. "We will not negotiate with lowly vampires! Scum like that deserve one thing, and that is retribution!" the position of his voice came to a slow halt, calming down but remaining perpetually strong, "Thank you, dear Caterina, for informing the Inquisitorial department of the happenings. Already we're assembling the fleet to annihilate the Empire." A white velvet encased palm fell into a fist, rising from beneath the material and stopping at chest level.
Caterina could feel a stabbing sensation in her chest, like broken glass shredding against her heart. "Brother, we can't be sure it was the Empire. To incite open war would dictate the ending of our peaceful era, we cannot have that. Not now, not when the Rosen Kreuz is becoming an insurmountable threat." She stopped her proclamation momentarily to catch her breath, eyes closing gently before once again assuming the conversation, "Albion has already fallen prey to the influence of Isaak Fernand von Kampfer and Dietrich von Lohengrin, do you really want the Empire and Rome to fulfil their ambition?"
"I assure you, Caterina, the situation in Albion demanded a response and we have given just that. For a show of force, we have sent an armada of air battleships as well as Goliath's II and III," Francesco exclaimed violently.
Cardinal Sforza couldn't help but respond to her brother with a question, "And how many battleships make up your armada, brother?" her eyes shifted to a worried expression, the following of the Professor and Father Havel also moving into a grievous expression.
A smile curved at the right corner of Francesco's lips, beady eyes peering discerning from between the thin layers of flesh. Once more, the fiery cardinal hid his arms beneath the veil of scarlet. Forearms pressing against one-another as they folded upon his chest. Satisfied with the response, he would abruptly dismiss himself from the room.
Heaving air was carried through the open window, lashing upon the pale complexion of Father Havel. Thick, browns strands were carried to bar his line of sight. All the while, Havel couldn't help but shake a feeling that Francesco's actions, at this point in time, might be the correct solution to the problem.
"If Rome assumes power…we can expect heavy resistance from Methuselah in every corner of the world," sighing, William brought the sable pipe from his lips to rest gently against the crevice between his thumb and index finger. "We cannot allow this to happen. Is there anyway we can stop him?"
Caterina and Vaclav both held a look of disdain upon their facial features; a depressing scene addressed the situation, furthering the darkness building in the world. William couldn't help but agree with their gestures, both arms slumping to dangle freely at his sides without a lift. "So…the tides of chaos lift once more. And my homeland will be the centre stage for this war."
"Tides of chaos…" Father Havel muttered moments before moving to exit the room.