If I kill this girl Melvin's plan will be complete.
Oswald stared at the young queen, Mercedes, as she fluttered her wings angrily, heavily in conversation with his foster father.
No… I had better wait for Melvin's command.
Decided, he leaned heavily against the cool pillar in the palace reception room. He felt dizzy. Despite what might have seemed a somewhat languid pose for someone who was usually upright, and rigidly so, he was not relaxed. His head was not in a right state, the colours of the palace spun behind his eyes and his stomach roiled. Ever since he had expended so much energy to bring the Belderiver back under his control he had suffered waves of nausea and pain. Or perhaps it should've been ever since he had encountered the Halja? Could it be that a brush with death had brought him closer to its precipice? It mattered not. All he needed to do was follow Melvin's command.
A dragon winged halberdier approached, seemingly unaware of Oswald who was hidden in the shadow of the pillar. He fidgeted impatiently as he waited, watching Melvin and Mercedes from a polite distance as he waited for them to finish their conversation. Unaware that he himself was being studied.
"Who are you here for?"
The young dragon wing jumped visibly at Oswald's question. Stammering as he stalled at deciding a response when he saw who had framed the question. It was clear he did not want to report to the Shadow Knight, but was too afraid to deny him an answer.
"I must report at once!" he squeaked.
"What has happened?"
"The Paladins have been attacked. There is an armed revolt!"
Of course there is. We armed it.
This was not news to Oswald. Not only had the Paladins been attacked, but they had retreated into the forest and hidden themselves like cowards. And he had watched them do it.
"You don't need to report that. Melvin is already handling matters," Oswald drawled.
"But… What of queen Mercedes?"
"Of course she is also aware."
A heavy silence stretched between the two, loaded with the halberdiers obvious discontent.
"But shouldn't I at least-"
"You," said Oswald pointedly, "may go. Unless of course there's something else?"
"There… there isn't," he swallowed. "I'll be on my way then."
Oswald watched as he skittered off down the corridor like a giant spider. "Beware the darkness," he muttered to his retreating form. He wondered of the statement was less of a warning for the escaping messenger, however, and more of one for himself. As he clenched the hand closest to the Belderiver he found that it was damp with sweat.
Shaking himself from further introspection, he looked up again to see that Melvin now stood before a group a monarch winged archers. Mercedes was nowhere to be seen; clearly her tantrum had run its course. It was a wonder that she still had not surmised that the current unrest in the court was not just because of the unexpected death of her mother and her own early coronation. Melvin had worked hard to build his allies and fan the flames of discontent without her knowledge. Still, surely the young queen should have been aware that things had progressed too quickly for there to be no perpetrator. Her cluelessness only gave rise to the necessity of their cause. Melvin would be king, he was the most suited to lead.
Awkwardly, Oswald approached the ring of fairies gathered around Melvin. He needed to be active, all this waiting was giving him too much time to worry about their plans… and whether or not he'd be fit to fulfil them in his current state. Melvin's caught his eye meaningfully as he commanded the young archers before him.
"Send that letter to the lords; a just cause will be needed to fight the rebels."
Rebels.
How easily Melvin claimed their position as the righteous one. It was as there could be no argument, that anyone rising against him was clearly an interloper. Though Mercedes still drew breath and he was not yet a king, his demeanour and manner of speech were those of a leader. He was clearly the superior candidate to rule, and anyone still clinging to the right of succession was an enemy to their own country.
As Oswald entered the ring of fairies they scattered, partly in distaste and partly due to their new orders. He was left alone with Melvin, but felt his mouth tighten over their rude dismissal. Still, it wasn't like it was unusual, it was more unusual that it bothered him, in fact. Even now when they were all reengages for the same cause, he was still an outsider.
Melvin smiled welcomingly. "Oswald, explain the situation."
"As you command. The Paladins who were in opposition have hidden themselves in secrecy." He paused as his foster father nodded, clearly he had expected this outcome. "There is now nobody left who publicly opposes you."
Melvin smiled. "Good work." He covered his mouth with his fingers as if to mask his pleasure. "Those stubborn lords still cling to sentimental ideas of Elfaria's daughter ruling. But some have expressed approval in the thought of me being in charge of affairs."
Oswald stood quietly. It was more than some. Melvin had offered opportunities even to the dwarves so that they might rekindle their forges and escape from the fairies yoke if the uprising was successful. He certainly had the majority of the citizens in his hand.
"I am in charge of a good third of our troops, but I am running out of time..."
Melvin's musings were interrupted as a Lillipat hurried across the polished palace floors, almost slipping in his haste. Foster father and son watched him expectantly as he huffed and puffed, bent over from exertion and unable to form complete sentences.
"Lord Melvin... You have acted recklessly," he finally wheezed.
Melvin laughed, throwing back his head and heartily enjoying the moment. "Are they finally amassing the dregs of an army, unaware that it is their own country men with whom they do battle? I have been looking forward to their confusion. Tell them we will face their so-called revolution."
He grabbed the recovering Lillipat by the collar and pulled him up from his sunken pose. "This will be nothing," he smiled. "We will break their resolve. If we can stifle the girl and her forces in the castle then the masses will follow us."
The Lillipat struggled weakly in Melvin's grip and then went limp. "Respectfully..." he croaked. "A sorcerer and a dragon have been sworn to protect the queen."
"A queen, she? Hardly. Just a scrap of a thing playing at ruling a country. It is in my dear nieces favour that I take this heavy burden from her. She is still unaware that I am working against her, flying in circles lost without her mother's apron to cling to. Better that she returns to hunting frogs in the swamp and playing hide and seek with her personal guards. This responsibility is too much for a child." He eased his grip on the young fairies neckline and the Lillipat slid down from his grip with a choked cough. "There is the sorcerer, though," he considered. "Beldor, huh...? I wonder what his motive is... He's a tricky one." Pausing to dust his sculpted hands on his frock coat he glanced over at Oswald. "Fear not. I shall present a champion that can defeat any dragon."
"Lord Melvin," cried the deflated fairy. "Does such a warrior even exist in this world of ours?"
Melvin frowned and snorted in his nose. "Mock me not, coward. My man is right here." He gestured to Oswald.
Oswald stepped up proudly. The other fairies might ignore him, despite knowing his prowess in battle, but his father trusted him enough to lay these defining tasks at his feet. Weakened though he might be, he would succeed, all for the sake of not letting this great man down. Melvin would be king, and Oswald would serve at his side.
His foster father stepped over the wilted Lillipat to grip Oswald's shoulder. "Now go, Oswald. Your Belderiver will bring us to victory."
Oswald bowed as well as he could in his increasingly heavy armour. It would not do to make his father wait, and so he turned to leave immediately. It suited him well since he had a desire to be occupied. Still, there was a dark feeling within him over the thought of battling another dragon. He could still remember the words of the great dragon Hindel as he had lay dying.
Seek the bird.
He paused as a he was suddenly gripped by a wave of pain, his limbs cramping with a burning edge which almost made him drop the Belderiver.
"Ugh... It's getting worse..." He looked around to ensure that no one had seen the display as he staggered into the shadowed portion of the courtyard, just outside of the entranceway. "Ever since I saw the Halja, my body is stiff. But I must do what Melvin asks of me." With a shaking arm he steadied his hand, slowly opening and closing his fingers over the hilt of the Belderiver. "I can still do this..."
A strange need to look upon the feather tucked into the breast of his armour overtook him, but he denied it. It was only because of his failure and his need for revenge that he kept such a trinket. There was no deeper meaning. Definitely not.
As he walked past the bruised remains of the moon lilies which had been trampled by the Aesir's advancement into Ringford, he found his resolve.
Definitely not.
A journey to the forest of Elrit would usually take him only a matter of hours. Oswald was not sure if it was due to his own poor condition or due to some work of the sorcerer Beldor that he found himself slowed down and, more often than not, completely lost. It took him until well past sunset before he finally came across the little grove where he knew he'd find the sorcerer.
"Beldor!" He called, his voice sonorous in the peculiar quiet of the clearing. "I must speak with you." He looked towards the rocky face of the cave that must be Beldor's home expectantly, waiting for the man to emerge. Without warning there was a hiss of air to Oswald's left and, in a puff of smoke, Beldor appeared from nowhere. Leaving Oswald to wonder if he'd travelled all this way for nothing and could have simply called his name from any location to summon him.
"Beldor, " he said, trying to hide his surprise, "I serve Lord Melvin, nephew of the late Queen."
The old man gave him a bemused smile. "Oswald, the dragon slayer... What brings you here?"
"Beldor, the greatest sorcerer in the Fairy Kingdom, let me ask: are you loyal to a country or to a single individual?"
The sorcerer rolled his eyes and swung one of his robe draped arms with a flourish. "Hmph, so that's why you are here. Melvin must have decided. This will be entertaining." The old man smirked at Oswald and shook his head as he turned away, back towards the cave. "But alas, I am an outsider. It troubles me that I am relied on here. Until the course of events calms down apace, I shall observe from afar."
"Coward!" accused Oswald. He raised the Belderiver to point it at the sorcerer's back, sure that he must know of his own danger if he truly were as powerful as rumoured. "Can you just stand by and let this nation sink into civil war!?"
Beldor grinned back over his shoulder and waved his hands towards the cave in front of him. "I hope you don't plan on threatening me with that sword Shadow Knight... You'll upset my pet. Belial, come."
As if commanded the cave walls before Beldor trembled, and soon Oswald could see that it was not a cave at all, but the scales and tough hide of the dragon that Beldor had made his servant. The dragon was different to Hindel, larger, it's flesh harder to pierce and it's jaw infinitely wider and full of razor sharp teeth. It slammed down a taloned foot as if in challenge.
Oswald stared the dragon down venomously, irritated at the old man who had now slunk behind it to shield himself. "Let me help you make your decision a bit easier," he growled, "who do you think will be more advantageous to side with?" Lightning fast he swung the Belderiver, feeling the hum of dark energy pulse through his entire arm and light him up with black vigor as he embraced the shadow again. He felt the blow land hard across Belial's flank and smiled.
"Bastard!" Beldor spat as he backed away from the burning shadow that was Oswald.
Oswald set his shadow self free upon Belial's scaly hide. He no longer felt exhausted and ill, instead a cold creeping feeling had come across him. Emptiness. It was as if he were being stripped away piece by piece. Each successful blow filled him with a sense of accomplishment but, at the same time, regret, as nothingness ate at his very soul while he fought. Finally, the dragon fell, and it was all that he could do to pull himself back from the brink of that empty expanse, yawning to engulf him.
As he shook off the inner darkness he was consumed instead in the blackness of nightfall. The sun had long since died on the horizon, and it was in that pitch gloom that he watched the dragon heave to draw breath. The sorcerer was nowhere to be seen.
"Beldor!" he yelled. "I have bested your pet, stand and face me. The day is mine."
He half thought the sorcerer to appear again unexpectedly, but this time the wizened old man crept out of the leafy foliage before him with a scowl on his face.
"You have bested my dragon, yes, but this day is not yet yours, Oswald. In fact if anything you've lost the day," mused the old man. "I will do as you ask, I will comply with any orders that Melvin sees fit to give, should he be fit to give me any."
Oswald frowned. Was it some curse that dragons and their keepers must all speak in riddles? "What foolishness is this? Will you fight for us or not?"
"That remains to be seen."
"Then I shall take you with me to ensure our contract," Oswald threatened.
"Do as you like, but it will only slow you further. Your Belderiver is not at full power, you've been weakened, haven't you? Do you think I can't tell? And just what do you think it has cost you, only a day? Oswald you've been fighting my dragon for three days straight now. How goes the revolution in your absence, without your strength, do you know? Do you truly believe the little queen is such a fool that she can't see past your scheming?"
"No," said Oswald. "That's not possible. How could so much time have passed without my knowing it?"
"Those close to death often don't feel time's touch as they linger on the precipice. Wrapped in a shadow of death you become less and less human by the day. Soon you'll be nothing but a soulless revenant like so many of the Queen of the Netherworld's clients."
"What of the uprising then, you spoke ominously. What do you know?" Oswald twisted the Belderiver in his hand and stepped towards the sorcerer. "Use your magic, return me to Ringford now so that I might report my success here."
"Ahhh, I've agreed only to follow Melvin's orders, not yours. Poor Shadow Knight, you best hurry or they'll be nothing left of the pitiful revolution he started. Even though he traded you for such power you've still failed him in the end"
With that Beldor disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Oswald staring at the space that he no longer occupied, his heart hammering in his chest. He delayed only a few seconds longer before he turned in the direction of the Ringford Palace and started to run as fast as his feet would take him. As he replayed the sorcerer's words he felt himself flinch, so similar to those spoken by Brom, by the Halja, but his foster father was not some monster who would trade his life for power so easily.
Oswald was exhausted. If it was true that he'd been fighting for three days straight then it was of little wonder, but he hoped that it was a lie. He daren't embrace the shadow again so soon, not even in such dire need, not if he wanted to make it to Ringford alive. He listened to the dull clank of his armour as he ran and the wheeze in his chest as he tried to draw breath. He was sweating heavily, overcome by dizziness but unable to stop moving towards his goal.
It seemed to take forever to return to the palace, and as he stood on the outskirts of the gardens the evidence of battle was obvious. He had been gone too long, a serious clash had taken place during his absence.
A stitch in one side, he limped into the shadows of the palace walls. Moving in the darkness he listened to the whispered chatter of a small party who had concealed themselves beneath an outcropping which seemed to have been blasted in the stone wall.
"The troops are in shambles... What should we do?"
"They have reinforcements. The palace has already been surrounded."
"I suppose random assaults proved to be an effective strategy in this situation."
Oswald strained his ears, which party was this? The invaders or those originally holding the palace?
One of the fairies sniffled. "Our revolution ended in failure. Where has Lord Melvin gone?"
No, it's not possible.
"Let us escape."
"To whence!? We have nowhere to run."
But Oswald could hear nothing more beyond the ringing in his ears. The revolution… failed? What of Melvin, what of their army? Had they misjudged Mercedes ability so severely? His vision faded as he stumbled forward, unable to even ensure that he was concealed anymore. He must find Melvin, perhaps this could still be saved. Surely his foster father must have need of him.
It was tough going any further in his state, walls danced away as he staggered onwards towards the centre of the castle. He could sometimes hear the dull clash of fighting from afar, or perhaps it was closer than it seemed? But he did not cross paths with either invader or renegade as he progressed.
Finally, as he entered the area outside of the main court he could see a figure sprawled against the marble pillar, luminous skin beckoning and perhaps a glint of gold about their head. They seemed to be wracked with pain, but spoke so quietly that it was all Oswald could do to catch their words.
"How could that lass have proved better than me...?"
Oswald fell to his knee at the sound, surely his fathers voice. He forced himself up and inched forward. "Melvin... is that you?" he croaked. "My eyes are clouding... I cannot see."
As he waited for confirmation, however, it seemed that the figure before him was gripped in the motion of silent, self-depreciating, laughter.
"Blind, are you? Then it seems your time is almost up. You worthless fool, breaking down like this." As he spoke there could be no doubt it was Melvin. "I should have prepared a replacement to take the Belderiver away from you. Such a waste."
Oswald wondered if there was something wrong with his ears, the strange ringing sound was back. He felt like he'd just been disembowelled, like something integral to his person had just been removed and nothing could fill the hole it had come from.
"A replacement...?" Oswald shuddered involuntarily. "Melvin... Did you really... Did you really trade my life for the
Belderiver?"
This time Melvin's chuckle was not soundless.
"No," denied Oswald, his own voice sounding strange and foreign in his head. "'Tis a lie. What exactly am I to you!?"
Hot bile rose in Oswald's mouth as the man who had raised him, his foster father, continued to laugh, wracked both by the crippling pain of being near death and the insidious humour this situation seemed to bring him.
"Answer me, Melvin!"
"You?" gasped Melvin. "Why, you are simply an object. Just a tool... for me to become King."
Oswald felt the emptiness creeping upon him again, and he had not even reached for the Belderiver. "N-No..." He retched once, his whole body spasming over the denial of everything he had ever known. There was nothing to vomit, he was completely empty, he had absolutely nothing left. He simply stared at the floor before him, his hands propping him up as he felt another wave of gut wrenching pain take him.
He could hear people entering the room, shouting. "There he is! Over here! You cannot escape, Melvin the traitor."
Melvin.
"Agh... It seems my life is nearing its end," said the man who had given Oswald a purpose for living and taken it away just as easily. He raised his arms weakly as if surrendering, but then glanced upwards towards the sky. "O Great Earth... My body returns to you. O Great Heavens. My soul ascends. I called myself Melvin... My true name is... Nidhogg. The one that chews on the roots of the ash tree... I will always resist fate..."
With his final tribute the fairy that had been Melvin scattered into hundreds of phozons which sparkled in the room as they escaped. Some twisting upwards into the sky, others delving to nourish the earth below as the guards shouted in outrage.
Oswald simply continued to stare at the hands planted before him, sickened and despairing. "I... What meaning has my life ever had...!?" One of the stray phozons drifted close to him an he flinched away from it. Knowing he'd be unable to bear its touch.
"Shadow Knight!" Declared one of the other voices in the room, spying him at last. "Halt, holder of the Belderiver! Don't move!"
But Oswald could feel the cold presence before him before it even appeared, hear the sudden hush of the guards which had been sneaking up behind him. He had summoned it with his own darkness, with the death of self, he was now no more than a living husk. He raised his face, his eyes wet and dull, to look upon the abomination of the Halja before him.
"What is that!?" Shrieked a guard.
"Aah! It's the Halja...!"
Oswald stared into the face of his future even as he could hear the skittering footsteps on the men behind him fleeing it. He felt no need to do any such thing, his life was nothing now, there was no point in going on.
"Pitiful slayer... The life I chased was merely an illusion," echoed to Halja tonelessly. "Your despair brings me joy. Your body rots while living, yet your true destiny does not awaken until you die."
Oswald nodded wordlessly, any remaining hope crushed entirely.
"Now, let me take you into the cold embrace of Death..."
And Oswald closed his eyes as the Halja raised his scythe, resigned.