Here I am with another story, a multi-chapter one of all things, in what I hope to continue is a series of stories in the Tellius timeline. I will hopefully try to have a chronological list on my profile before long. As for the story itself, I am experimenting with the first person point of view as well as writing from a perspective of a character which usually falls on the boundaries of enjoy or despise with little wiggle room for in-between.

Well, enough of my ramblings, please enjoy!

"I am the undying. I am the lord of death incarnate."

He towered over me, this monster of living metal and skinless flesh. In the cold winter's grasp, I could see that he neither drew nor released any breath. Each word is slow and calculated with the amount of force placed behind it. His followers are soulless puppets of armor, only their leader had some form of a body inside of him.

A red gemstone was embedded in his helmet, engravings circled his head like a crown, silver torcs dangled from his arms and an elegant azure robe hung from his entire body that seemingly changed design that covered his mighty plated armor. Here I fought a king of the dead, an alien anachronism from a long forgotten culture full of the darkest anima.

Flayed Ones we referred to them as, and this regal status only spurred me on.

"We are the slayer of lords!" I spat the words at him as I drew my sword from the sheath on my side. My trusted lance laid shattered near me, but my dao blade was still considerably powerful. It crackled with electrical energy as I exposed the enchanted edge to the raw air. The lance that was a gift from my queen years ago, much to my shame, laid humbled in the snow that whipped around us. I would ask for my forgiveness later, I had this creature's head to take.

I attacked, my country and queen's name on my lips like an unsheathed weapon. He and I, we fought alone in this ice encrusted battlefield. All around me, my fellow knights engaged similar monsters of steel and blood. For three days we have fought against each other in this winter wasteland. The mountain city of Volus burned, the black smoke of oiled wood and burning fat churned the air, a testament to the destructive handiwork of these unknown creatures.

We had come here with the fears of a nation's invasion. Volus was a very loyal city, having paid their taxes on time with no sign of resentment. When nothing came this season, His Lordship and Her Majesty ordered me to find out what happened with Knights of my choosing. When we had arrived, the slaughter was nothing any of us had seen before in this time of peace. These monsters crawled over heaps of the slain, many wore the skins of the slain. From there on, we fought each other with a furious assault. Now I stood as one leader against their own.

None interfered, I was insistent upon this. I had drawn only my sword, and would engage it thusly. For my victory to have any meaning, this was how it had to be. Even terms, his crackling obsidian edge glaive matched against my venerable Tempest Dao. Our respected weapons clashed again and again, the opposite energies that pulsed between the very air. We fought each other with a similar style of feints and attacks of opportunity.

Viridian fire encompassed him like a halo for an angel of death, and my ultramarine blue armor offered a stark contrast against it. I fought with a vengeful fury, eager to right the many wrongs I saw all around me. He fought with seemingly millennium of experience, for each strike I tried to land, he took advantage of the slightest crack in my aegis of defense. Soon, my dedication for the kill gave way to the need just to defend myself.

My blade had served me for the two and a half decades of life I breathed, but in the end, it was not found wanting.

It was I.

During our savage duel, his boot brought up a dune of snow, distracting me for the briefest of moments. In that moment, he struck. The glaive cleaved down, rupturing my armor with a cry that drowned out my own. Blood filled my mouth and I collapsed into the devouring snow. I, Geoffrey, Commander of the Crimean Royal Knights, Warden of Melior, Lord of Watch and High Vizier of Delbray, fell.

As the shroud of shadows wrapped around me like a burial veil, I heard the monster's voice one last time.

"I am the omega."

I came around coughing a briny healing tonic, spraying the inside of my reification mask. My hands and arms were tied down so that they could properly set and my eyes were covered with a cold and wet cloth. I roared and thrashed against the bed upon which I was laying, my muscles and nerves suddenly aflame. "Release me!" The words came out like a choke, but I could hear the authority placed behind those words.

Seconds later, the cloth was removed from my face and the mask with the feeding reed was removed, causing me to further gag on the sensation as well as the revolting taste of the vulnerary. The buckles on the belts that held me in a crucifixion like pose was removed I was back in the world of the living, and once my eyes had adjusted to the early afternoon sunlight, I murderously stared down the eyes of my apothecary.

"Welcome back, Knight Commander."

My face lathered with healing fluids and spit, I scowled. "Mist."

She had the good grace to nod in reply. She was dressed in the spotless white with laces of roses covering every limb exit to show her status and rank as chief healer of the castle. Her hair was long brown, flowing free save two partial braids on each side of her head. Her blue eyes tried to convey some sympathy, but I knew that those were fragile eyes who had already seen too much death in her short lifetime. At the corner of my vision, I saw her infant child swaddled on a table. It was apparent that Mist had done all she could to heal my injuries, all she could do now to see if her training saved me.

There were shadows all around me in this wing of the hospital of Castle Melior. Shadows that suggested the various instruments and devices the Crimean healers employed in the service of preserving life. The air reeked of medicinal incense and a fine sheen covered the slate floor. It was clean, cold; a desolate place. How many had come through these halls bloody and broken? How many had arrived and never left? The answer was the same, always too many.

I made to rise, but Mist held out her hand in the universal signal telling me to cease my action. "Do not think you can keep me here forever."

That hand then became a placatory gesture. "At least let me check first." She picked up her healing staff and some warm light passed over my body. I continued to stand the discomfort a little while longer, though every fiber of my being demanded that I was to be released from the bed. Cramps began to form so I clenched my teeth to the point of shattering to hide the uncomforting feeling.

Once she was done, Mist offered her hand to me, which I politely shook away. I sat up on the bed and cracked my neck along with various parts of my body. It was slightly painful, but I needed to feel that pain to realize I was alive. Once I was finished with my self-medication, I stood and realized that I was naked, save a loin cloth. Mist held out a Sherwood green tunic to give me some decency, though I could see the faint rosy blush on her cheeks as she was clearly enjoying the sight of my trained body.

It would not have been very chivalric of me to keep a married woman waiting, so I took the cloth before I winced as I felt my injury that landed me in her care. I glanced down at the angry scar that puckered my flesh. It ran along my side, wide and deep was the cut. Any deeper and I would have been off to join my ancestors. "It is a wonder that you are alive after that injury, much less walking." She said with genuine surprise in her voice.

I threw the cloth on and growled. "I'll do more than that." It was a vengeful promise. I then realized that I did not know anything after I had fallen. Assumptions and fears rushed through my head as both of my hands rushed through my sky blue hair with uncertainty. Once my robe was placed on, I turned to Mist with a look of urgency. "Mist, tell me. What of Volus? Were the Knights victorious?"

Her face, usually bright and cheery even in the face of a raging tempest, darkened. "After you fell, Oscar and Kieran placed their differences aside tried to rally the Knights but they severely underestimated the foes they fought that day. It was an admirable effort but they were forced to evacuate. Volus is lost to us."

Her voice cracked as she said the next part. "So too fifty Knights…"

I clench my fists so hard the knuckles crack. I look around for something to vent my anger at and the nearby window provided the perfect target. I slam my fist against it, putting an impact web on the clear glass. Had I my blade or lance at hand, I would have done far more than that.

I was about to ask Mist for more information and where we would strike next against these bastards before a new voice entered the fray. "I had to see it for myself."

A brother of Crimea- the brother of Crimea depending on who you would ask came into the light of day. He was fully clad in the armor of service. Dark green plate, a plumed helmet with the fur of an ancient animal he had just removed from his head to be placed in the crook of his arm, a ceremonial gladius strapped to his left leg. Gilt-edged shoulder guards and breastplate shone in the lambent sun beyond us, and his war-plate was festooned with the laurels of his many years of vaunted service.

"Renning." I bowed my head out of respect, though the cold look in eyes of the brother of the late king Crimea showed none for me. His stern expression only increased as the scars across his face knitted with the age lines.

"Geo." I hated that he used an abbreviation of my first name, though I used his own first name before him which I knew he hated without a title.

We were rivals, he and I. He had taken up the position of Knight Commander when even my older sister Lucia was but a babe in arms. After he was presumed dead seven years ago in what is being referred to as The Mad King's War, I took his mantle of leadership and lead the Royal Knights to glorious victory time after time. His return should have been accompanied by his former position, but I was not going to just hand it over to him.

Since then, Queen Elincia had done admirably in her attempts to mediate between her uncle and myself, her former suitor. In name and rank we were equals, though in practice I believe he was favored more than I. This was done due to the fact Renning was blood related to her and she had an inkling more care for him than myself. Elincia is a great deal of many things. Petty is not one of them.

Renning and I were further rivals because our war philosophy was very different. Renning was a blunt but effective adherent to the traditional codex of battle, whereas I interpreted our ancestors' teachings to the situations and was less predictable. Some have said that I was reckless. Only Renning had ever said so to my face.

The smile Renning wore was cold and far from inviting. But he looked as if he had more to say rather than he was to check up on me. Out with it then.

"I wish that I could say I could have come only to see the dead come back to life. At first I believed that the sister of Ike had begun to practice the macabre art of necromancy." He gestured to me. Mist could sense the tension in the air and apparently her infant child could as well as it began to make the grunt before a crying storm. Mist appeared to be torn between attending her child or to act as a voice of reason in this brewing storm. I made a gesture with my off hand, telling her to attend to her child. I didn't want her to be caught up in two egos clashing against each other, any outrage he had was to be aimed against me and me alone.

Renning continued. "But I cannot. King Tibarn and Queen Elincia demands your presence. They want to know why you were defeated at Volus and returned to the capital of their kingdoms in ignominious defeat."

I was about to respond but I had to bite back my words. An outburst here, in front of Mist and her child, would serve no good purpose. "Demands my presence? Am I to be held responsible for this defeat? I know that whilst I stood, the warriors of the Sacred Rose were not routed."

Renning refused to be baited. He was ridged and a pain in the ass for that fact. "You will have six hours to prepare your testimony."

I could feel another strand of my patience struck by the way his words were like a knife, sharp and precise. "Testimony? Am I to be judge then?"

My rival betrayed no emotion, though I doubt that he did not take any pity pleasure at my discomfort. "The defeat at Volus was disastrous, Geoffrey. Questions must be answered and you were the one in command-"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand and began to the exit. "Then let us go now then. I am in control of my memory and do not need six hours to realize that. I have nothing to hide."

Renning stamped in front of me, and planted his armored bulk between me and the door. "Cease this wanton disregard for royal decrees, Geoffrey! Your reckless behavior and idealism is what have brought you to this place!" He regained his control, though it took a great deal of effort to place on the mask of command once again when he first addressed me from the shadows. "It seems you have yet to learn that lesson."

"Do not address me as if I am some sort of neophyte." My voice held warning and I leaned in closer. "As they have on countless occasions, my swift actions prevented an earlier defeat. I prefer to win hard battles, not to reap the hollow glory of easy campaigns. Next time you behold my banner on the field, look at the victories upon its silk and then look to your own."

I goaded him out of his desire to return the same disrespect I had just shown him. I vaunted Renning and the elite cohort of Knights who rode into battle with him. They were exemplars of martial prowess and devotion to the throne. I respected them as if they were my own men and as some of the best fighters the nation had ever seen. That did not mean I had to like them.

Renning had every right to strike me and much to my irritation he did not. Though when he spoke through clenched teeth, I knew he had come close. "Six…hours." He spun around with a flurry of the purple cape adorn on his back as he exited the room without another word. Mist released a deep breath she must have been holding as she cradled little Elena close to her bosom. She stepped forward and looked like she was about to say something from her motherly position, but she shook her head and gave her professional opinion.

"You are fit to resume your duties, Knight Commander." I wiped my face clean of the remaining of the foul liquid that was her recipe for healing, and I flicked it to the floor as I still seethed with anger from Renning's encounter.

"Tell me Mist, where would I find my armor and weapons?"

"The blacksmiths have been working endlessly trying to repair them. I understand that there has been much damage done to the lance and war plate in particular. If I would hazard a guess, I would say that they would be in the Royal Armory, East Wing. I trust you know how to get there."

I wiped the rest of my face off with my tunic sleeve, and grunted a word of thanks to her as I do so. I said goodbye to Elena, who griped my finger tightly. If that was any indication that it would be how strong she would grip a sword, then she would make a fine sword mistress in the fullness of time.

I then turned and made my leave for the weapon foundry. Something in the penumbra around the apothecarion had set me on edge and I desired the return of my war trappings as soon as possible.