The crushed eye orb was quivering in his pocket.
Odd, why did it choose now to stir? He turned to Licia, grumbling a brief apology. "Sorry, I have to check something."
Licia smiled, and said firmly, "Do what you must." He gently put down the folded robes and chime she had given him, fished out the cracked and broken orb and touched it to his head. Perhaps some defect or something, who knows what happens when orbs or soapstones are damaged.
Odd, why did Licia tense just then…?
He had little time to dwell on the thought before he was swept into the traitor's world.
He gazed silently at the floor for a second, before rising slowly to his feet, his longsword already unsheathed. He would mete out the justice a traitor deserved. He was a Blue Sentinel, and one of the highest ranking ones at that.
His head slowly rose and met Licia's slightly biter eyes.
"So you've figured me out," she said.
No. Impossible.
"I'll have to finish you off."
This was ridiculous. Absurd to the point of disbelief.
But the chime she raised and the Wrath of the Gods that flung him against the wall could not be denied.
He was aware of the Sunlight miracles; he had been an Heir to the Sun for a long time before starting to administer justice. Ancient miracles that existed since the beginning of the world. Having the chance to learn one is a privilege few can ever gain.
And he had done exactly that; he had collected most of the miracles… except one. The sibling miracle to the Bountiful Sunlight Targray entrusted to him. Both stolen from Lindelt monastery, but unlike Bountiful Sunlight was never regained.
So this was the traitor that betrayed her faith and stole a miracle. Licia of Lindelt.
She tilted her chime at him and from it was flung a spinning, lightning spewing orb of light. He flung himself to the side.
Lightning sparked around the room, whipping wildly, flaying stone from the walls and sending tingles down his flesh.
The dragon chime was gripped in his hand. He would confront faith with faith. Miracle to miracle.
Spears of crackling lightning ripped through the air, carving deep wounds in her body. She stumbled back, and he saw his chance. With a shout and a charge, he knocked her to the floor. Licia grunted in pain.
And then he was upon her, lightning clutched in his fist as the chime rose and fell, again and again.
. . . . .
The monarch abruptly opened his eyes. Bad idea, incredibly sharp stabbing pain in his eyes.
Grunting, the monarch stirred before blinking rapidly, hand coming to shield his eyes from the rising sun. Sighing, the monarch leaned deeper into the tree. It was… extraordinarily idle in this area. No enemies had come to visit the covenant, nor had any monsters (aggressive ones, at the very least) come calling. He had fallen asleep for once and not actually woken up at a bonfire, but where he lay. It was a novel experience.
And he had dreamed, too.
The monarch let his head fall back with a dull thunk against the tree. He was not expecting to ever have to pass judgement on one he knew, let alone one of his teachers. Perhaps he was not fit to condemn the Old Iron King; he saw parallels being drawn, mistakes the king made he himself made, choices that he would've agreed with had he not known the consequences.
Maybe he hadn't taken the Iron King's crown because it would've been too relatable.
Absently, he opened the side pouch on his pack. It was a little place for the few trinkets he decided to keep, mostly as souvenirs or a visual reminder of a friend or oath.
A closed, wrought iron helm, a symbol of unshakeable loyalty and defiance.
A helm reminiscent of a wild beast, ironic considering its former owner was now peaceful.
A mask, its owner having nothing to hide and wishing her name to be remembered. A proud knight, reduced to begging in (her eyes) a stranger to remember her name. He pushed an effigy into her fingers in return.
A slab of ordinary titanite.
A pair of faintly smelly gloves. Not really needed considering he didn't brandish his sword much or even have it on him, at the moment. He really needed that bonfire.
A folded, chainmail robe, stained with Dark.
The chime Licia had given him. For all that she had done, he still considered Licia a… friend. He was hesitant to use that term, but she was his teacher and showed him no hostile intent until the moment he stepped into her world.
There was one more token. A brown feather. That was in a pouch of its own on his belt.
He wondered why he decided to look at them. Then he shrugged aside that thought. Wasn't he allowed to be wistful over his companions and allies?
What would happen to them, he wondered. What were they doing in Drangleic?
It was their choice, he supposed. He had no right to barge in on their journeys. Besides, they could call upon him, should they need to.
He put them out of his mind. They would be fine.
The monarch folded his legs and sat in a meditative pose, the staff always in his hand across his knees. Before anything else, he had to gauge the souls and life of the land. Just how powerful would his sorcery be here? He was caught up in the excitement of the covenant he forgot; Carhillion would've been annoyed with him.
That is if he wasn't practically fainting over the land; it was saturated with souls, wild and free. Not unreasonable, considering the life of the land, its First Flame, burned with power completely absent in Drangleic. Ahh, what he would do to see the Flame for himself! Perhaps he might be capable of taking a portion of it, provided the God of Light here would allow him to do so. If not, well, he had never been one to allow what he could or could not do.
A cacophony of voices started before the courtyard began filling with noise. Loud. Much too loud. He covered his ears and silently walked off. Drangleic was a quiet land, the one upside it had over this new realm. A flick of his staff and an inversed Hush fell over the crowd, but those outside its influence would notice. Sighing, the monarch fell against the tree and closed his eyes.
. . . . .
Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière wasn't feeling too hot today. It was a lovely day, with a refreshing breeze and enchanting weather, but that oddly dressed youth, her familiar wasn't there. She shouldn't have to dress herself; that was his job!
Grumbling and rubbing sleep out of her eyes, she shuffled out of her room to drag him back. Familiars shouldn't be disrespecting their masters as brazenly as he did! He barely even acknowledged her once he saw her classmates flying, and ignored her attempt at discipline so utterly she wondered if she missed.
Another door opened right when Louise was before it, and out stepped the single student who Louise utterly loathed. Flaming red hair like the Fire she commanded, strongly captivating with confidence in her movements, those… ahhh, she was everything she herself wasn't!
And since she stopped right before her door, she saw her and grinned.
"Good morning, Louise."
Louise returned the greeting with a frown.
"Good morning Kirche."
Kirche made a show of looking behind her. "Where's the commoner you 'summoned'?" She air-quoted the word. Why?
Louise's frown deepened. "You heard?"
"Of course I heard! Did he run off or something before you could give him your money?"
If Louise's frown could grow any more severe her face would split in two. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Didn't you just get a commoner from off the street and bribe him to pretend to be your familiar? That's what I heard."
"You heard wrong," she forced herself to keep calm. "I summoned a familiar, he just ignored my commands-" she shut her mouth so hard an observer would be surprised if she hadn't bitten her tongue. But she had already said too much.
Kirche laughed loudly. "He ignored you?"
"Yes." Louise ground her teeth slightly.
"You can't summon correctly and can't even discipline in your result… then again, what did I expect from the Zero? Flame!" she called. Heat assailed Louise a moment later, and a red salamander slithered out from her room.
"A salamander?" Louise asked, her voice filled with jealousy.
"Yes, and one from the Fire Dragon Mountains at that! Not even collectors would be capable of having one."
"How nice," Louise said bitterly.
"Yes, well, I was hoping to meet your familiar, but considering he ran off I may as well be off myself." Tossing her hair, Kirche strode off, her salamander following loyally.
Why did that Germanian get a salamander and she get a commoner who didn't even listen to her? That staff he carried piqued their interest, but after detecting no magic flowing around it they assumed he was a fake. Even if it was real, that meant one of two things; he was either a fallen noble or someone who stole a noble's staff, either of which would be horrible to her reputation.
Her day ruined before it could even really begin, Louise trudged to the dining hall.
. . . . .
His nostrils flared. "Hmm… something smells."
It was… enticing. Something inside him demanded he seek out the source of the odor. But all strong scents in his travels usually ended in something horrible. This one had no evidence otherwise. Then again, the fact the humans he observed did not carry much in the way of equipment added some credence. But what if it was something they were already familiar with, like the undead in the Gutter? That place smelled strongly, so much so that his eyes watered from it.
But his curiousity wanted to see the source of the smell. If it was harmful, he'd destroy it. If it was guarded, he'd kill the guards and investigate it then. Simple.
With a crunch of grass the monarch rose from his meditation under the tree and started following the smell. It happened to coincide with the covenant members and their destination, apparently. He was following them to somewhere. They gave him odd looks, something between disgust and surprise. He wasn't sure of what was so odd. Was it his garb? Did they not have hexers in the covenant? Sleeping on the ground outside though rarely did personal appearances favors, however. Maybe he just had dirt smeared on his face.
Well, they'd probably get dirty anyway during their mission or whatnot.
The covenant's first goal led them into a large, spacious hall, filled with light. His gaze swept across from end to end, surveying the covenant members.
On the left, some were a little older and wore purple cloaks. On the right were members wearing brown cloaks and looked significantly younger. "Mm, so senior members go on the left, initiates on the right… rather organized for a covenant," the monarch mumbled to himself, drowned by the members talking. Covenants were rarely organized; he only knew he was a high ranking member in the Blue Sentinels by the amount of rogue phantoms he had killed.
On a slightly raised platform at the back of the hall, he could see the leader, eating and discussing something with a woman with green hair. But since the covenant was in divisions, he could just be leader of the initiates. He had to find the master of the covenant then.
His eyes swept across the tables, seeing what was on them. So the food on the tables were the source of the scent, and from the way the covenant members were eating, it must've been safe. Still it was their food, and covenants jealously kept what they thought was theirs. As such, he pushed it out of his mind. Since he was up, he may as well go find a bonfire, and failing that create one. He could always kill something in the wildlife or whatnot. His goal decided, the monarch turned and began walking away.
A shout echoed through the hall before he could fully leave, and storming up to him was the child from yesterday, his summoner and, presumably, the world's master. He wasn't sure of anything at this point; the rules he was so accustomed to apparently no longer apply in this world. He watched her angrily (presumably, no one normal had that red of a face) speak to him for a few seconds before turning once again.
He made it three steps before he halted again. This time his head jerked forward after a resounding bang echoed throughout the hall. The chatter died down immediately. He blinked abruptly before spinning on his foot to face the child.
"Don't turn your back on me, commoner!" she shouted.
"Ah, so you've decided to speak to me plainly rather than talking in some language. Very well, I shall accept your challenge," he responded blandly. Whatever she did to him didn't hurt, but the aggressive stance she held combined with the vaguely threatening posture she held (it was difficult to take a catalyst that small seriously) announced her intention more than any words could.
She responded, equally contempt. "How dare you ignore your master all this time! And don't speak to me in that tone! As if a commoner could ever challenge me-"
Talking was a waste of breath in battle, he knew that much. While she ranted at him over the next few seconds he wondered how he should answer her challenge. The sorcery he commanded was not suited to single combat; he had no wish to challenge the entire covenant, just this initiate. Pyromancy and hexes were equally unsuitable for the same reasons. So that left…
Miracles, namely the spears of lightning it held. How ironic, he had dreamed of challenging his teacher in faith just earlier, and now he would have to utilize it once more. He reached down to his belt and unhooked the dragon chime that hung, already crackling with latent lightning. Flicking his mind's memory, he decided which spear he should hurl. Well, he should get a gauge on just how skilled the covenant was in battle. A probing strike, so the basic one will suffice.
He bowed slightly, and the child stopped, briefly surprised, before it grew into outright shock at the lightning beginning to surge around the chime, largely hidden by his closed fist and concealed even further by the white light poking its way between his fingers. The mighty bolt burst into existence with a ear-splitting whine and crackle. The covenant burst into noise.
"What? Lightning with his bare fist?"
"Is he an Elf?"
He hurled it at the one who challenged him with the force of a javelin, with the full intent to kill and responding to her challenge. It may be a probing blow, but if he can end a fight in a single blow why drag it out?
The spear of lightning dug deeply into her body before fizzling out and sending shocks throughout her body. She collapsed, screaming, and the monarch frowned slightly. Was she unused to pain? Oh, then she was indeed new to fighting.
Well, her fault for attacking him. That was a mistake he'd made multiple times throughout his journey. Several times did he foolishly or recklessly charge into conflict, and more than enough times was he ignobly crushed, burned, sliced, or fell to his death. That was the price you paid for overconfidence and recklessness.
Since she was new to the concept of fighting, he may as well grant her a swift death. Others may have gloated at their victory, or would've mocked her for her inexperience. Not him. It had never been how he was.
Another spear formed in his fist, but this one was far more potent. It was a miracle bestowed to him for his dedication to the sun, said to be a God of Light's own weapon. The girl curled into a feeble ball, her hands grasping the place where the spear had hit her.
"Oh come now, you brought this on yourself. Stand up and fight."
Out of his awareness, the sixth sense he developed after many deaths to constantly be aware of his surroundings he was aware of the covenant members screaming, and those at the back of the hall, the leaders, started shouting and making their way to him.
"Stand down, this is not your fight," he stated plainly to them, before he began to raise the crackling Sunlight Spear.
"You are hurting one of our students! Do you expect us to stand idly by?!" a woman yelled at him.
His brow furrowed, and the hand holding the fierce ray of light lowered before it guttered out. He turned to them fully. "Student? Why did she challenge me with so little experience?"
The woman sputtered for a moment, such was her anger. "She did not challenge you to a duel!"
"She did. She attacked me. I responded, as is appropriate."
"But to respond with lethal force?!"
"A single blow is all it takes. One can turn from friendly ribbing to a lethal blow in the span of a heartbeat."
The hall was dead silent now as the woman and the unknown mage argued. The mage was eerily calm and dismissive, like he hadn't just flat out stated he intended to kill Louise.
"That's him," one said.
"The commoner Louise summoned?"
"Yeah, I guess he's a fallen noble instead."
The hall broke into gentle murmuring, some genuinely worried for Louise, who was whimpering and breathing heavily as the nurse gently healed her wound. The spear hadn't quite blew its way through her body, it lacked the power to do so, but she was heavily scarred in a vicious looking, bright red wound. It looked like her skin had wrinkled and shrunk around the point of impact, looking for all the world like her body was trying to collapse at it.
"Enough, Miss Chevreuse," an old man finally cut her off. The monarch surveyed him. Dressed in black robes and having a rather impressive beard along with ordering his opponent down, the old man was at least of fairly significant rank. As if sensing his gaze, the old man turned to him. "I will need you to come with me."
His right eyebrow raised slightly. "And who are you to give me such an order?"
"Osmond, headmaster of this school."
His eyebrow went further up. "Indeed? Very well then."
Nodding at the staff and the rest of the students, Osmond turned and walked off, the monarch following. "Jean, I'll need you as well."
A balding man with glasses nodded stiffly. He was doing all he could not to simply flare out in anger against the strangely dressed man. His flames were itching to come out and burn his apathetic gaze. But he sensed he would be unable to do so; everything about the stranger just screamed at him, "Do not approach me." The three of them strode off to the headmaster's office, and chatter in the hall resumed, but muted while the medical staff carefully picked up Louise and carried her to the nurse's office.
With unease in their heart and worry in their minds, the students could only silently eat the food before heading to class.
. . . . .
The moment the oak door closed Osmond asked "Who are you?"
"I?"
"Yes, I already know Jean there. So introduce yourself."
"…would you believe me if I said I do not recall?"
"Pardon? How do you not know your own name?"
"Have you ever heard of the Curse of the Undead?"
A very long explanation had Osmond thinking and Colbert reeling. Such a horrific land of death and despair only existed in his dreams, but it was apparently reality for some people. The man had gone into detail about anything they asked him, ranging from what Drangleic was to the mysterious soapstones and ever present threat of Dark.
He waited silently in his chair, his cowl still obscuring everything above his eyes. A tense silence passed.
"If you could lower your cowl?" Osmond abruptly asked.
A few seconds passed while his brain processed that request. "What?"
"Lower your hood, please. There is something we must check."
No response for a few seconds before a gloved hand brushed back the cowl.
Black hair and tired blue eyes gazed back at them. He was… surprisingly young. He could've easily fit in as a student. If it weren't for the scars that pockmarked his body, or the callousness of his hands, or the intensity of his gaze. He also had a well-built physique that hinted at training with weapons and long times wearing heavy armor, and from the dagger's hilt that lay almost out of sight in the folds of his mantle he was still keeping up with that training.
They were not looking at a student or young man. They were looking at a world weary soldier and a skilled, incredibly powerful and extraordinarily dangerous mage.
Jean stepped closer to him before brushing back his hair to see his forehead. A slightly bemused gaze fell on him, saying "That's the second time you've done that."
Jean stepped back and nodded to Colbert. "Yes headmaster, those are definitely the runes I read about."
Osmond leaned back in his chair and let his breath whoosh out from his lips.
"The runes of Myozunitonirun, the Mind of God."
A/N: In the span of two days this story became my most followed, most favorited, and most reviewed project I'm actively interested in writing.
Why Myozunitonirun instead of Gandalfr? If Louise had summoned the Monarch earlier in his story, he would be a Gandalfr since he used physical weapons almost exclusively. Now though, his weapons are secondary to his magics, so it takes precedence.
The Monarch is powerful. He didn't kindle the First Flame, so unlike in Twisted Reflections by vendetta543 (highly recommend you read it), he still has the Four Great Souls. He's a master of magic (as if I hadn't made that already clear) and is proficient enough in close combat and a swift enough thinker to put down several highly trained and professional soldiers. He's put down demi-gods, warrior kings, dragons, the entire shlock. He may have died a lot of times, but he's still taken down foes that are many times more powerful than him and, by taking their souls, added it to his own.
Is he going to be eyeing students to kill them? No, he won't bother you if you don't bother him. Bother him and you may either get a bemused stare or a Crystal Soul Spear on how much of a threat he perceives you. Is he going to honor you if you honor him? Yes, bow before a battle and he'll bow back. If you attack him is he going to bow? No, he returns what is due. Honor is due honor, harm is due harm.
If you're wondering when he had the time to learn magic in his travel, he killed Licia right before he opened the Shrine of Winter, but before he claimed the Three Crowns. By then he already mastered sorcery, hexes, and pyromancy. His miracles were honed over those journeys, but it dwindled in power due to his emotions after killing Licia, whom he trusted.
Romance is entirely an option to the Monarch, but not one many in Halkeginia would be willing to take. If you'd like to see romance, tell me who you'd like to see with him and why.
EDIT: So it came to my attention that the familiar a Void user can summon is determined by the country. It'd be extremely simple just to change the location of the Monarch's runes considering I haven't gone into the Guiche fight (which may or may not happen now) and as such haven't clearly defined what the Monarch can or cannot do. It'd be easy to retcon. If you guys really want to make the Monarch a Gandalfr, go ahead and let me know, otherwise this bit of canon is gonna get ignored.
EDIT: The reason the students think the Monarch's an Elf is because the students don't see the chime, and even if they did they wouldn't connect it with the lightning magic. I'm making this clearer because I got called out twice (lovely) mentioning that the best of the rest in wind magic users can use lightning, most famously Wardes, whose runic name is actually "Lightning".