Chapter 1 Intermission: Lord and Liege

"Divine deliverance shall be brought upon thine soul,

For those who truly love thine gods, glory,

For the false prophets and their ilk, damnation,

Our Gods,

Giveth to us, their fair judgements,

Taketh from us, uncertainty and fear,"

The smooth voice came from a young man with long pale-blond hair. Each of his words echoed throughout the spacious auditorium, layering upon each other to create congruous sentences.. Rows upon rows of pews were filled to the brim with hooded figures. All of them were dead silent, listening closely to every word the young evangelist uttered. From the perspective of an observer, it seem that the speaker, who was clearly the youngest person in the massive room, held the highest rank.

"When we giveth our lives to the Divine Lords, who bequeathed upon us our very souls,

When we giveth our faith to the Divine Lords, who granted us our reason for existence,

When we giveth our love to the Divine Lords, who asked nothing from us as recompense,

We reve-"

*Thump Thump Thump*

Several deep knocks interrupted his next words. This sound came from the massive doors leading into the auditorium. The hooded figures sitting on the pews did not react in the slightest. They simply sat there with their eyes closed, silently repeating the words orated by the young preacher.

The man smiled. No, that would be incorrect. The young man was always smiling. His smile had simply shifted.

"Open the doors for our guest, please."

The two heavily armored knights that stood at the door, who could have been mistaken as statues, immediately acted upon his words.

The massive doors creaked open as the knights pushed with all of their strength. As they swung open, one could make out a short figure standing at the doorway. It was short, stocky, and heavily armored. Not an inch of skin showed through its plate.

It bowed deeply as it saw the smiling man.

"My deepest apologies Pontiff Sylvan-sama," The short man had a thick accent. "If I had known t-that you were holding a serm-"

"Please," The smiling man calmly said. "State your name and business."

"Yes! I am designated as Heavy Scout-Dwarf of the Steel Legion, 5th regiment of the Charr Communion! I am to deliver an urgent report to our Divine Lord at the behest of Dagron-sama! I humbly request passage to the Catacombs! Please excuse my rudeness!"

While the heavy dwarven accent blended with the words, it contained none of the intelligible slang from his mother dialect. Of course, that was because It wouldn't be appropriate to disrespect someone so great with the language of common rabble.

"Mmh." Sylvan's smile shifted yet again. "Well, if it was an urgent delivery to our Divine Lord, then there is no harm in interrupting a humble servant such as myself. In fact, I was wondering when your district would send a runner. Ones from the other districts had already arrived before I started my sermon. Hmm, is it because you dwarves have shorter legs? And why did you not simply take the district passages to the Catacombs?" He tilted his head slightly as he inquired.

The armored dwarf stood quietly at the door, bowing.

"Kukukuku, I jest, messenger. I completely understand the situation." A silent sigh of relief escaped the dwarf's mouth as he heard those words. "I've already been informed by the previous messengers that all other passages have been temporarily sealed due to our alert level. Since delaying a report carried for a Divine Lord would be most heretical," He paused his words for a mere instant, creating an air of suspense," you may proceed."

With his approval, the dwarf sprinted through the auditorium, past the Pontiff and his throne towards the next floor. Moving with surprising amounts of speed for someone with such short legs, the messenger quickly became a silhouette in the distance before fully fading from sight.

"Quickly now little dwarf. You'd best not keep our master waiting." Sylvan silently muttered, his gentle smile unchanging. "Hmm, now then. Let us continue our sermon."

...

The sound of panting echoed through the blanched bone corridors.

"Hah, hah, hah." The armored messenger sprinted with all his might. For him, this mission will be the defining moment for a nameless servant. The verification that finally proves his worth.

The justification for his existence. It was at the tip of his fingers.

He would not let this opportunity slip away.

Whatever would happen to him after this task, he would not care. Whether he would die to the enemy or be thrown into a pit of endless pain and despair, he would not complain. No. In fact, he would be elated to die for his Divine Lords. Even if merely as nameless fodder, fit only to be slaughtered to slow the enemy's advance.

The term nameless fodder was not at all a figurative play on words. The usage of the word fodder was apt. He was merely one of the numerous heavy scout-dwarves in his regiment. Like him, all of them held the same goals, dreamt the same dreams, and yearned for the same deaths. Above all else, of course, was their unyielding devotion to their Divine Lords. Charging into certain death for their beloved gods was the least they could do to show their gratitude.

As for the term nameless, none of them had true names. They were simply called by their given class and role. His own was bestowed upon him when he was born, along with all the knowledge and skills he would ever need to fulfill his purpose. The term birth, however, was of tenuous accuracy at best. They were not born from the warmth of a living womb. No, they were created. Formed in the great city that they had the privilege to call home. Those who were lucky were shaped by the blessed hands of the Divine Lords themselves. Lower class weaklings like him, however, were simply fabricated en masse by Sanctuary itself.

'Bless the Divine Lords and their holy city. May their glory never falter.' He silently whispered a prayer as he continue to sprint through the winding hallways of the Catacombs. 'Bless them for their generosity. For giving a weak fool such as myself a chance to prove my worth.'

The Divine Lords... What excited him the most was that he was about to meet one in person for the first time. Those of his stature would, at most if they were absurdly lucky, get a glimpse from a distance. He, however, had the honor and privilege of not only seeing one in all of their glory, but to hand deliver a report of great importance.

Just the mere thought of making tactile contact while graciously handing it over was rapturous.

A lowly nobody like him, having even a sliver of physical contact with one of the greatest beings to ever exist. The possibility was so slim and anomalous that it may as well have been blasphemy.

He moved through floors with wind-like speed, darting past the catacombs and the sacred forest. He was as graceful in his movement as one would imagine a dwarf to be; not very unfortunately. That was of no concern to him though. His job was to run, to run as fast as his legs would take him.

Painfully slow minutes passed as he rushed through the golden gates of heaven and the searing pits of hell.

As he ran out of the cave that connected the molten landscape to the next floor, he suddenly noticed the shimmering snow that surrounded his feet and the wild winds that whipped around his body. He had finally arrived. Blackfrost Citadel was so close. A Divine Lord was waiting there and he, of all people, was about to meet them.

He approached the Citadel from the front entrance, with the intention of knocking and requesting for passage. As soon as he was within 50 meters of the massive entrance, however, a loud crack sounded from the gates. A series of deep metallic groans followed and when the dwarf looked closer, he noticed that the massive gates were shifting. The raucous clamor echoed throughout the frigid wasteland as the gates slowly began to open.

Walking closer, he noticed several armored figures turning massive cranks on top of the icy walls.

Frostguard Knights. They were supremely powerful warriors dedicated to serving their Floor Guardian, a mountain giant known as Bjergan. Every single one of those knights was capable of cutting down thousands of soldiers of his caliber.

When he ran through the massive gates, two of them came over and started walking beside him.

'Escorts?'

While he desperately wanted to know why someone like him was being flanked by two powerful soldiers within the safety of Sanctuary, a sudden feeling of dread stopped him from asking. Both of them were dead silent as they walked briskly towards his final destination.

'Did I make a mistake?'

Terrifying possibilities swirled through his head. He wasn't sure what he had done. Was he late? He was told that it would start in 40 minutes when he left, and he certainly did not take that long to arrive. Did he offend the Floor Guardians somehow? What did he do?

As he cycled through the maelstrom of thoughts, his body went on autopilot. He did not keep track of where he was going, only that he was following the two knights that paced beside him. His mind spun endlessly in circles trying to piece together his situation until-

The knights suddenly stopped.

"Hiii?" A small sound escaped his mouth.

The knights kneeled.

'What?'

This sudden shift snapped him out of his runaway train of thoughts and returned him to reality. He was standing in a massive courtyard and there were several figures standing a short distance away, staring directly at him.

'Oh Lord.'

He bowed deeply and kneeled as quickly as he could without compromising his balance.

The figures who stood there were Floor Guardian.

On the far right was Abaddon of the Seraphim Council, Floor Guardian of the heavenly upper third floor. His spectral aura divulged his nickname, The Angel of Death. A dark, plated robe covered his body while his face was hidden under a grey hood and an expressionless mask.

To his left was Regis, The Grand Demon of the hellish lower fourth floor. He was in his plate wargear, reserved for use only in combat and events of great importance. He looked towards him with mild discontent.

On the far left stood Ash'hal, Floor Guardian of the Commerce District. A slender lamia with long, flowing hair. Her mere presence was bewitching and her turquoise scales glimmered with her every movement. She stared at him with a sneer. There was an air of mocking superiority in the way she stared at him.

To her right was Bjergan, the Mountain Giant who was the Floor Guardian of this floor. To say that he was massive would be an understatement. He towered over everyone in the room by at least 2 meters. His expression was more neutral, without the underlying antagonism found in Regis's or Ash'hal's.

At the center of the four mighty beings was-

"Ah, looks like the last report has arrived." The voice that pierced through the frigid air was distinctly female, though it did not have the hissing aftertones of Ash'hal's speech. It was a voice that made everybody stop and listen. The voice was majestic and awe inspiring, even when used to note something as mundane as his meager presence. It was a voice that he had never heard before, but had immediately recognized.

The voice came from the figure standing in the center of the group. The being emanated an aura of glorious, holy radiance. One that overpowered the auras of everyone else in the courtyard. If there were any doubts of her identity before, it had all but washed away by the grandeur ambience surrounding her.

He was not meeting just any Divine Lord. He was meeting with the greatest one of them all.

"Skarlett Sangreal-sama! I humbly present and deliver this report, sent by Dagron, Floor Guardian of the Industrial District!"

His heart raced as he spoke the words he had endlessly recited in his head.

"A wassste of your breath, little dwarf." Ash'hal rudely remarked. "How much ssslower could you possssibly be? Is this truly the bessst your disorderly district can come up with?"

A drop of cold sweat ran down his cheek.

"Mhm, she has a point." The gravelly voice came from Regis. "The other reports were delivered ages ago, what's your excuse then?"

The dwarf felt like a puppet whose strings were about to be cut. His only purpose in life was to serve his masters, and he had failed even that. No amount of words could describe the utter despair that filled him.

"No excuses at all?" Regis chuckled. "How pathetic."

Murmurs of agreement resounded throughout the massive courtyard. Even the most hushed remark of disappointment struck him like a sledgehammer to the face.

More sweat flowed down the dwarf's brow.

"Quiet, all of you." Bjergan's thunderous voice echoed through the courtyard as he interjected. "No mistakes were made. The meeting hasn't even started yet."

"What would you know about punctuality and expectationsss, you uncouth giant?"

"Mhmm, what matters is not his punctuality, but his shortfalling compared to his peers." Regis agreed.

The 3 Floor Guardians started bickering. Every sentence spoken was soon followed by a louder one, with ever increasing hostility in its inflection. It seemed that this process would continue endlessly unless someone cuts in.

"No, I agree with Bjergan." The commanding statement came from Skarlett Sangreal. "No harm was done by his arrival. In fact, I'm more interested in knowing why all of you came so early. The meeting doesn't start for another half-hour."

Bjergan puffed out his chest in pride as the Ash'hal and Regis begged pardon from their Divine Lord.

"Now, let me have a look at that." Sangreal walked over and took the presented document.

"Well done, messenger. Thank you for delivering this document. Send Dagron my regards and remind him that the meeting is not until 3pm if you would."

"Yes! Of course! By your will! I humbly request to take my leave!"

"Granted."

With her permission, he bowed once more and sprinted out of the courtyard. His entire body trembled as he ran, though it was not of terror, nor cold, but of joy. It was utter, unadulterated joy.

He did it.

He completed his task.

No.

He did more than that.

He completed his task with the praise of the greatest Divine Lord.

What more, he was assigned another task by Skarlett Sangreal-sama herself. With his heart filled with blissful euphoria, he set out to complete his new assignment.

...

Leaves shifted as hundreds large humanoids traversed the deciduous woods. Their tough skin matched the colour of the leaves, giving them a rather advantageous natural camouflage. They put absolutely no effort to hide their presence, however, as with every step taken, dry leaves were crushed and stray twigs were snapped. The cacophony of the destroyed foliage alerted any and all of the forest's natural inhabitants, prompting them to move away from the path of the onslaught.

"Gah, shit. Think I stepped on sumtin' sharp." One of the suddenly remarked, adding a voice to the din.

"Sucks ta be you. I wore ma good boots today." Another replied.

"The only reason you got dem was cause you hog all da loot fer yerself."

"You calling me a thief!?"

As that conversation continued, another voice joined the fray.

"Ey boss, can we know wot we're doin' yet?" One of them shouted ahead. "All this waitin' is really killin' me yaknow?"

"Shaddup. I'll kill ya before ya get to know if ya keep walkin' this damn slow." The one behind him replied.

The one at the very front of the group, whose armor was the least crude, halted, prompting everyone behind him to stop as well.

"Mmmmh, fine then. Oi! Lads! Listen up!" His voice was deep and strident. "It's time for all of yous to know what's goin' on. We an' 5 other warbands are going to hit a big one. We gots orders from da big boss's ta pillage real good."

Deafening shouts of approval boomed between the trees.

"However! We gots real clear orders to not hit any of the frilly ones. Big boss wants them alive. Said somethin' bout needin em for somethin' special."

"Oi, so the big boss's really lost it hasn't he? Gone so far as to wantin' to shag those disgustin' things." Clamorous laughter and hoots followed the comment.

"Hehe, ehm. Glad to see ya still got taste lads. However! I don't want none of you killing any frillys before they get to the big boss. He seems real keen on gettin' his hands on em, and I don't want 'im to be pissed at me. And non of ya would want that either. Cause if he decides to smack me upside the head cause we didn't bring nothin' back, I'ma smack all of yous upside the head with me axe! Got it?!"

A unanimous "Aye!" came from the group.

"Cause we Orcs are tha biggest, tha best, and we ain't gunna let that little rule stop us from lootin' and pillagin' the rest!"

Another tremendous "Aye!" came from the Orcs.

"Alright lads! Let's move!"


Apologies for not putting up a new chapter in a while. Uni took over my life and occupied most of my time. Can't say I regret it though. Now that those nerve-wracking finals are over, I'm going to start writing again. I'll hopefully have a big Ch.2 up before winter break is over.

Anyways, thanks for reading my Ch.1 intermission. Please leave any comments or suggestions. I'm still a beginner writer and I would love to know what I should improve on and what I'm doing right!