Chapter Three: Banishment
Noxus came upon the clearing so quickly it very nearly surprised him. Stopping abruptly, the slim man gazed up at the lone tower in the clearing center, wild vines clinging to its brick walls. Sitting upon the cracked steps leading to the tower's single oaken door was a pale, dark haired adolescent boy wearing a dirty roughspun tunic over his scrawny shoulders and a huge dusty tome in his lap. "Manus," Noxus spoke, slightly out of breath.
The ghost-like youth looked up from the text, his huge brown eyes surprised that he was no longer alone. A wide grin split his thin face. "Master Noxus! Thou hast returned sooner than usual!" his voice was filled with joy as he slammed the book shut and placed it on a step beside him.
Noxus smiled slightly under his helm. He had found the boy over ten years ago, starving on the roadside outside the small village that would eventually become Oolacile. All he had on his person was simple stone pendant, apparently a gift from his dead mother. Ever since that day, Noxus had raised the boy to be his successor, the person that would oversee the transition into the Age of Dark. He had taught him his dark sorcery as well as swordplay, though, due to the boy's inherent clumsiness he was a mediocre practitioner of the blade at best. Yet, he was very proficient with magic, and he showed wisdom beyond his sixteen years.
"I found what I was looking for in a rather faster period of time then I thought." Noxus replied, marching quickly over to his young disciple. Reaching into his rucksack, Noxus retrieved a stone tablet encasing a grinning skull. "'Tis a purging stone."
"Ah!" Manus exclaimed. "A purging stone ist only object that canst break a curse, where didst thou find it?"
"That doth not matter. Manus, I do not have the time to study this, for the Wolf Knight shalt be arriving soon to taketh me to Anor Londo. I left the moldings for the ring in mine chambers, 'tis up to thou to construct the ring band." Noxus spoke quickly, looking over his shoulder at the tranquil forest behind him; an apprehensive feeling was swirling in his stomach.
"But, Master, I do not understand, I thought thou hated Anor Londo?" Manus spoke confusedly. "If Gwyn expects thee to bow and scrape to him, I shalt assist thee in laying him low!" The young man said indignantly standing to his modest height. Noxus chuckled at his apprentice's brashness. Despite being small and soft-spoken, Manus was a rather cocksure boy, unafraid to challenge those more intimidating than himself.
"I bow and scrape to nothing, Manus, and never shalt; yet, I have someone I desire to… speaketh with." Noxus answered, his voice quieting slightly with these last words.
"The Witch of Izalith?" Manus queried in a whisper. Noxus went rigid.
"I gave thee a mission, did I not? My going to Anor Londo is none of thine concern." Noxus snapped impatiently. Manus shrunk backwards, trying not to smile. Noxus noticed the boy's hidden mirth.
"It has naught to do with the Bride of Flame, if thou must know." Noxus informed him concisely. "'Tis that serpent, Frampt, that I must share words with. I only wish 'twas on my own terms rather than the Sun King's."
"What if things turn sour? I should accompany thee," Manus said, picking up the tone he had placed aside.
"And if things doth turn sour, how wouldst thou assist me? The Four Knights, the Sun King, the Hallowed Traitor, and the Sunlight Prince shalt all be there, even I wouldst be overwhelmed easily." Noxus informed the dark haired boy. "And aside from that, I do not believe it shalt go badly with the Bride of Flame and Frampt present, they are prudent and would not allow violence to erupt."
Manus seemed unconvinced, but he didn't press the subject. "Very, well, Master. I trust thee to tread lightly and return soon." Taking the purging stone in his hand, Manus turned about and walked back into the tower. Noxus watched him shut the door before turning around.
"Thou canst come out now Wolf Knight." The man spoke, his voice a winter chill.
"I didst not wish to interrupt thine conversation, Noxus. I recall thine hatred for discourtesy." A solemn yet beautiful voice, like the howling of wolves or the rush of an avalanche, emerged from the forest. Sir Artorias and his companion Sif stepped from foliage and into the waning sunlight.
"What is it that the Sun King desires? What is the purpose of this summit?" Noxus asked, stepping towards the pair warily.
The tall knight in his blue and grey armor felt refreshed, he missed the no-nonsense manner in which Noxus spoke. The two neither liked nor disliked one another, yet there was a near tangible respect they regarded each other with. Ornstein distrusted the human, and disliked him for the same reasons as Lord Gwyn. Ciaran was indifferent towards Noxus, understanding that someday she may be sent to end his life. Gough, ever affable, liked Noxus and greeted the human warmly every time he saw him, which was why Noxus avoided the giant bowman as if he had a plague.
"'Tis the banishment of Prince Solaire, my lord." Artorias explained. "He lost the Annals, as well as making other foolhardy mistakes that Lord Gwyn dare not overlook nor forgive. He wishes thine presence for thou knowest most of the human settlements, and Lord Gwyn desires thy opinion of them."
Noxus narrowed his eyes under his helm; he highly doubted that Gwyn truly wanted his opinion, considering how badly their last encounter played out. But, the human trusted Sir Artorias. Noxus sighed raggedly. And I am off again, he thought bitterly.
The summit was beginning. Matilde peeked nervously through the huge double doors at those gathered within. At the end of a long rectangular table made of stone, sat Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, with his faithful captain, Dragonslayer Ornstein standing slightly behind him. On the left side of the hall, taking up much of the space, was Seath the Scaleless, Duke of the Archives, with three individuals dressed in blue robes adorned with gold and tall, multi-eyed helms seated relatively close to one of his tentacles. On the right side, sat the Witch of Izalith with her eldest daughter, Quelana, seated beside her, nervously running her fingers through her straight black hair. And finally, at the end opposite his father, stood Solaire, wearing naught but a simple white tunic and breeches, his sunlight straight sword and his sunlight shield on the table before him.
"The Pygmy hath not arrived yet, my Prince," Matilde whispered to Gwyndolin, who was standing behind a pillar, awaiting her appraisal of the situation.
"And pray tell what ist thou doing here, Knightess?" a familiar voice suddenly asked from above her. Looking quickly upward, Matilde saw the serpent Frampt winding his way down from a window above.
"She ist mine escort, seneschal." Prince Gwyndolin stated, whirling around the pillar, his immaculate white and silver robes catching the moonlight enigmatically.
"Ah, young Prince Gwyndolin! I didst not know that thou art attending the summit." Frampt replied in surprise, his teeth clacking together in a grotesque manner.
"But of course I am, seneschal, 'tis about the fate of mine only brother after all," Gwyndolin replied concisely before breezing into the hall. Matilde followed her closely, nervously clutching her crescent axe, and trying not to sweat.
Lord Gwyn looked up at his frail son in surprise as Gwyndolin entered. Ornstein leaned close to the Lord of Sunlight and whispered something, only to have Gwyn wearily shake his head. Gwyndolin did not look out of place amongst the others despite his lack of confidence. His beautiful robes were as white as moonlight and trimmed with a brilliant silver cloth. But, most of all, his coronet of silver and amethysts gleamed with such an austerity that it nearly mirrored that of its wearer. The brass armored knightess behind him also seemed to add to his authority.
Matilde felt a little more comfortable seeing that Lady Quelana was roughly the same size as her, and Seath's three companions were most likely human as well. But, gazing at the massive size of Seath was enough to make the knightess dizzy. Gwyndolin sat a few seats away from Quelana, casting a tentative glance the beautiful pyromancer's way. Matilde stood rigidly behind her charge, holding the crescent axe in front of her with both hands. Warily, she stopped focusing on the other summit attendees and began looking about the entire hall, as a sentinel should. She could not let her guard down, even with Captain Ornstein and Lord Gwyn present.
Prince Gwyndolin kneaded his fingers together and pressed them against his mouth in a thoughtful gesture. Lord Gwyn sat with his eyes closed and fists clenched tightly on the tabletop before him. Seath kept fidgeting, his serpentine head twisting this way and that. The Witch of Izalith was the picture of stoic composure, her hooded head bowed slightly, revealing only a single lock of wavy black hair. They sat in this fashion for a great while. The moon was at its zenith when Lord Gwyn finally spoke.
"Damn him. We must proceed, we have dallied far too long awaiting the Pygmy." The Lord of Sunlight growled, opening his fiery scarlet eyes.
"Hold, Lord Gwyn, let us giveth Noxus a few minutes more. If he should arrive here only to learn that we already conducted the summit, he shalt be very cross," The Witch of Izalith spoke, her haunting voice bringing decorum back to the chamber.
"I agreeth with Lord Gwyn, too much time hath been wasted on the foolish human," Seath spoke, his voice like the crackling of thunder.
"Yes, let us get on with this," Solaire grumbled angrily. The Witch looked from Solaire to Gwyn to Seath, her brilliant golden eyes filled with defeat.
"Nay, we must await the Pygmy. He doth represent the humans in this, doth he not?" Prince Gwyndolin spoke, to the surprise of all.
"Yes, the prince has the right of it." The Witch spoke warmly, gazing at her newfound comrade.
"I concur," Frampt said from his place coiled about a pillar behind Matilde. "Noxus may be mercurial, yet he hath good insight, I advise patience." The Witch gave the serpent a grateful look.
"No! I do not wait upon Noxus!" Lord Gwyn roared, showing his wrath to all present. The words had just left his mouth when the great double doors gave a tremendous groan. Slowly, they opened, letting a chilling night breeze into the hall.
Instead of two giant sentinels pushing the massive doors open, there only stood an armored man holding a catalyst pointed towards the inside of the hall, behind him, Matilde could vaguely make out the huge form of Sir Artorias shrouded in darkness. Two great ghost like beings composed of dark leapt from the doors and were sucked back into the gnarly staff. " 'Tis a lovely night, is it not my lords?" a tired voice queried from under the bucket-like helm upon the man's head.
Prince Gwyndolin let out a near inaudible gasp and the Witch of Izalith stood with a happy smile. Confused, Quelana stood as well, looking at the drably adorned man in puzzlement. Matilde too was taken askance by the Pygmy's appearance, she had imagined someone tall and stoic, perhaps dressed in armor ostentatiously dour and dark. Instead, his simple iron armor had many nicks, dents, and scratches and his surcoat was stained and threadbare. "Noxus! We were unsure when thou wouldst arrive." The Witch spoke kindly.
Noxus walked slowly into the hall, his armor rattling and his catalyst tapping on the marble as he used it like a walking stick. Lord Gwyn was glowering at the man in a way that Matilde had never seen before. "Yes, we hath been awaiting upon thee for much of the night now. " Gwyn rumbled.
"Well, perhaps if thou hadst sent thine knight out sooner, I wouldst hath arrived in time, Sun King," The Pygmy replied coldly. He passed by Solaire without a single word and hoisted himself onto the tabletop, his armor clanging against the hard stone. Once relatively in the table's center, the Pygmy removed his helm and sat down.
Matilde studied the face that had been hidden underneath the helm. It was sharp featured and lined with age, the eyebrows were arched, the eyelashes long, and his hair, held in a small braid behind his head, was whitish grey. The only thing particularly eye catching about this individual were his intense amber eyes.
"So, relateth to me the purpose of thine summit, Sun King," The Pygmy said, glaring back at Lord Gwyn.
"My son," Gwyn gestured to Solaire, "Hast committed numerous transgression and is on trial for banishment from my kingdom forthwith. Yet, an issue hath arisen, for we art unsure as to where he shalt be banished to."
Noxus glanced over his shoulder at the golden haired lord at the end of the table. A grin split the man's face. "And how doth that be my affair?" he asked.
"We were going to discuss each of our realms, and which wouldst provide the greatest trial for Solaire." The Witch of Izalith spoke, retaking her seat and her daughter following suit.
"Ah, so thou wishest for me to throw him into a human village somewhere? My, what tremendous punishment that wouldst be." Noxus laughed.
"We shalt discuss it before a conclusion is reached," Gwyn growled. Noxus cocked his head and gave the Lord of Sunlight a mocking smile. "The Witch of Izalith shalt begin." Gwyn continued, raising a hand to the Witch.
"Izalith ist a well fortified city, with many of its denizens adherents to my daughter, Quelana's," she gestured to the beautiful girl beside her "magic, which she hast entitled 'pyromancy.' It is a confining place to be sure, and quite unlike Anor Londo in the aspect that 'tis underground. Above it layeth the heathen swamp Blighttown. I believe that banishment into Izalith could possibly be very helpful young Solaire, as the customs there are quite different than those of Anor Londo." She took her seat, folding her elegant hands in front of her.
Lord Gwyn nodded thoughtfully, casting his eyes from the Witch to Duke Seath. "And what dost thou hast to say about thine Archives, Seath?"The Lord of Sunlight asked of the albino dragon.
Seath looked down at Solaire disdainfully, his pale eyes like two great crystal orbs. "The Archives art so close to Anor Londo, my lord, I do not believe that I wouldst be able to contain such a canny warrior as thine son," the dragon answered, his tone almost mocking.
Solaire laughed heartily. "Thou art correct, dragon! Thine books and mages would be outmatched!"
Seath chuckled in response, yet his eyes spelled naught but hatred. "Silence! Thou hast no right to speak, Solaire!" Lord Gwyn snapped, quieting his son.
"A thought just came to me," Noxus spoke again, surprising them all. "Izalith is a beautiful citadel, rich in culture and ist not so different from Anor Londo in the fact that it too is a bustling bastion. Quite obviously, the Hallowed Traitor hast no desire to put up with thine impetuous child, so, that leaveth naught but the human settlements. Yet, why shouldst he be confined to but one? Young Solaire shouldst be sentenced to eternal wandering amongst the humans as one of them."
"Yes, a beautiful punishment 'tis." a cold voice whispered from the shadows on the balcony overlooking the hall. Looking up, Matilde saw the goddess Velka perched upon the railing, a cloak of raven feathers covering her thin body from shoulders to toes. Through a tangle of black hair, her luminescent emerald eyes were visible. "A lord forced to walk as a human, how positively devious! Oh, how I have missed thee Lord Noxus." she giggled.
"We have not cometh to punishment yet." Gwyn told the deity of sin. "Yet, Noxus raiseth a fair point. Izalith wouldst be far too comfortable for Solaire, the Archives art too close to Anor Londo. A human city wouldst lack the luxuries he ist used to, and being confined to human body wouldst provide a just embarrassment."
Noxus frowned at the insult and tapped his catalyst upon the table impatiently. Gwyndolin studied the wielder of the Dark Soul intently, his vermilion eyes glowing with curiosity. "Perhaps New Londo, then?" The prince interjected, attempting to gain the Pygmy's attention. He didn't notice his brother look his way with a hurt expression.
Noxus laughed. "That is a grand city as well. Even us humans art capable of creating things of beauty. No, if thou wishest to punish Solaire, sendeth him not to New Londo nor Thorolund. There ist a small country, far to the west, called Astora. A certain Duke of a neighboring country hath kept the place under his despotic rule, and therefore the place ist destitute and underdeveloped."
Lord Gwyn nodded solemnly. "I hast heard of the land called Carim, ist this the neighboring country of which thou speaketh?" he asked. Noxus responded by nodding noncommittally.
"What art thine opinions?" Gwyn asked of those gathered.
"I agreeth with Noxus, this Astora seemeth to be a suitable place for banishment." The Witch of Izalith answered placidly.
"How canst I argue?" Seath rumbled, smiling broadly, his fangs gleaming white.
"Yes, yes, such a divine punishment. Rescind his godhood and sendeth him to Astora as a feeble human." Velka chirped, her thin girlish voice filled with excitement.
"Very good, then 'twould seem this hath been settled, this 'feeble' human shalt be returning from whence he came," Noxus said, getting to his feet.
"But, how doth we intend for Solaire to arrive in this Astora? We cannot give him a grand entrance, it would contradict the act of banishing him." Gwyndolin spoke quickly, trying to stall the Pygmy's departure. Solaire looked down at the floor, feeling betrayed.
"Yes, thou art quite correct, Prince Gwyndolin," Frampt spoke for the first time since Noxus's arrival. "A human should guide Solaire there." Noxus groaned loudly.
"Then, send him with Havel damn it! The Bishop is capable of escorting a mewling princling." Noxus demurred, knowing where this was going. "I am not a damnable emissary, nor a prison guard!"
"Currently, Bishop Havel is in Thorolund, preaching Gwyn's holy word." Ornstein enlightened Noxus. "All other humans Solaire could easily overwhelm."
"This was a trap! Thou brought me here to do something beneath all of thee!" Noxus growled at those present. Suddenly, he whirled upon Solaire, raising his catalyst and allowing his dark magic to pulse through the heavy staff. "I couldst kill him right now and remove the thorn from all of thine sides forever!"
Matilde jumped up on the table between Prince Gwyndolin and the Pygmy, her crescent axe ready. Ornstein did the same with Lord Gwyn, his spear alive with writhing lightning. "Enough!" The Witch of Izalith cried out. "This is no such thing, Noxus, and killing Solaire would only result in more strife. Lower thine weapon and let us talketh more." Noxus's dark magic slackened but did not disappear.
"If thou wishest for me to play thine messenger boy, then I must demand a boon in return," Noxus spoke lowering his catalyst.
"Thou canst demand nothing of us, Pygmy!" Gwyn spat derisively. "Thou art naught but a weak human, born of darkness and to darkness thou shalt return!" The Lord of Sunlight rose from his seat, his greatsword, wreathed in flame, sliding over his broad shoulder.
Noxus glowered at his age old rival. Slowly, like smoke rising from a smoldering blaze, small, black sprites began to arise from the armored man. The shadows in the room grew darker, the light of the braziers became that of candles, and Matilde's knees began to quake in involuntary fear. Sir Artorias drew his own sword, preparing to leap at the Pygmy. Noxus's eyes burned like cold fire, his pupils like two pools of shadow within frozen oceans of amber.
It was Velka who broke the steel hard silence. "Lord Noxus ist not thine slave, Lord Gwyn. Thine animosity sullies this great city and shames us all. What boon dost thou desire, Lord Noxus?" her girlish voice seemed to be on the verge of hysterical laughter.
Noxus continued staring at Gwyn as he answered. "'Tis but a trinket, Avenging Princess, a ring of thine power, in fact."
Velka grinned. "A ring of sacrifice, is it?" she giggled. "Thou couldst hath acquired one without all this contention, my lord. So be it, taketh young Solaire to Astora, and I shalt giveth thee one of mine rings."
Noxus closed his eyes and nodded. The Witch of Izalith breathed a sigh of relief. Light steadily returned to the room, and Matilde's heart rate slowed. The knightess looked at all those present, hoping nobody else would do something foolish.