Chapter Eleven
Queen Henrietta was having a problem solving the situation at hand. On one side, she had renounced the Germanian's emperor proposal of marriage, because she had counted of Arty's alliance. On the other side, Arty was actually in a relationship with someone whom Louise seemed dead set on avoiding him revealing the name. Furthermore, her pink-haired friend had changed so much, in so little time, that she couldn't help but think some sort of mind altering drug had come in play. As a skilled water mage, however, she needed to at least touch her for a while, while chanting, to realize if something was wrong. As of the immediate situation, however, she couldn't, because she was having dinner with food she had never seen before in her life, so exotically arranged and so exquisite that she had to rely on all of her self-control to resist the need to ask for seconds, the problem was that the butlers kept on bringing food on platters, different food, different sizes, and it was like they knew, deep down, when she was actually stuffed and when she was refusing because of decency. So they insisted, without words, because the ghostly butlers couldn't talk, but by actually placing more food in her platter, as Arty chuckled. At the same table was seated Cardinal Mazarin, Agnes, her musketeers, the king of Necros, her generals, and Louise. The mansion they had visited had been something out of a dream, a really strange dream, with sharks swimming in pool, and flying chocolate cakes. The garden too had come alive to greet them, and it had been fun to see the cardinal losing his favorite hat to a grass hedge pelican. Just to get it back completely coated in rose's thorns. The musketeers had tried to refuse; they had tried, Agnes even coming to menace with a gun one of the butlers, but they had all miserly failed, because the butlers themselves had forced them to sit down, being immune to gun hits too, as Arty himself had insisted, since in his mansion, everyone was equally his guest. The generals too had simply accepted the deal to be at the same table with the queen's bodyguards, especially after the absolute display of indifference of the La Valliére's daughter, who had sat right next to Artos, and hadn't flinched, instead even passing around the bread, to the commander of the musketeers on her left.
Soon tensions melted, especially because of the various degrees of alcoholic wines brought forward, but also because the general of the Germanian fleet, Handenburg, wasn't a born noble, but had been the son of a merchant, and, once drunk, he had let go of all the formal etiquette, and had begun singing in a really coarse voice a song of sailor's and whores. The problem was that Artos soon had joined him too, and Agnes had joined her voice to the chorus of tone deaf persons. So, Henrietta sat there, biting her lips trying her best not to eat another strange delicacy which smelled awfully nice, and at the same time blushing fiercely when the Cardinal Mazarin, bewildered, began yelling about how they had sung a wrong verse. Louise instead kept her cool for the reminder of the dinner, and, afterwards, they were all gently escorted to the library room, to cool off or doze off, and to speak.
The library was immense, as it held every book Artos himself had ever read, but, while many were easily accessible, others were bound in chains, and guarded by what looked like menacing suites of armor with really scary motifs.
The Cardinal slumped in a sofa, followed by General Wimpffen and General Handenburg, while De Poitiers grabbed an armchair for himself, next to the fire, to start dozing off. Agnes had, strangely, begun looking through the books in the library, while the musketeers remained next to Henrietta, who had shaken her head about sitting, and was instead staring in awe at the height the libraries actually reached: it was like they extended up above, above even the fourth or fifth floor.
"So many books." She whispered, staring at them.
"There are more of them, but they can't be accessed easily, and thus I keep them locked away." Arty replied with a gentle smile.
"I should give you back my gift…I'm sorry I took it from you." Louise muttered, staring sideways, a bit embarrassed in recalling what she had done.
"I know you were simply angry, and I didn't take it personally. Don't worry, you can keep it: I already had a copy." As he said that, he pointed to a book, the same book of crack jokes that suddenly flew upwards, and moved near them.
"I never thought I'd see a flying book." Henrietta whispered, "What language is it written in?" she added, looking at how she couldn't even read the title.
"It's Common tongue, your majesty." Louise replied, "The tongue used in many material planes." However, it was at that moment that Louise realized the time tense used by Arty: he already HAD a copy and he didn't say he actually made one, furthermore, she suddenly realized that the book had indeed been written in common tongue, but she had bought it in Tristania!
"Arty, you already had that book, right? Before I bought it for you." Louise replied.
"Well, yes, it actually had been already gifted to me once." As Arty replied shyly, Henrietta stared with a puzzled look.
L: Explain.
B: The book was gifted to us a long time ago, when we were defined *grumpy*. When you brought it to our attention we realized someone was having fun with us.
L: Who?
B: Gods, who else?
"I understand. Anyway, the principal reason was discussing an assault plan for Albion, right?" Louise queried the queen, who shook herself from the momentary surprise to reply:
"Yes Louise Françoise, we were planning on a diversion fleet to attack the port city of Dartanes while we concentrated the bulk of our strength in Rosais, to capture the city and then aim for Saxe-Gotha, and finally hit Londinium," Henrietta referred the plan that the generals had come up with, a saddened tone in her voice.
"I do not like to wage war on other countries, but there is no choice: they declared it first and they are refusing peace." As she added that, Arty sighed.
"Arty, you could open up a path straight to Londinium, to lower casualties." Louise suggested, earning herself a far more puzzled look from Henrietta.
"I could create a teleportation Circle on a ship, and then through that, troops would automatically be transported to the next teleportation circle, which would be anywhere inside or near the city of Londinium…but I would need time to etch it in the capital, somewhere, and the troops would need to be ready to fight the moment they arrive. I could transport eight troops per time with a circle, as long as they keep a steady flow they might overrun the initial defenses, but if it's heavily guarded, all the enemy need to do is destroy the section of floor the circle is written upon, and then it would be over." Arty replied.
Henrietta stared in surprise at the Wizard, before losing herself in thoughts once more.
"If we were to somehow warn the Albion army of where we intend to strike, that is Rosais or Dartanes, then we could send all our mages through that portal and capture Cromwell. Once he's captured we could have Albion forced into a surrender, with minimum to none bloodshed!"
"Their army is probably already moving to counter our invasion, but still we will need Arty to etch the circle on a ship here, and then travel till Londinium. Afterwards it all depends on us winning against their fleet in the air. If we manage that, with the sixty battleships we have, plus me and Arty, then we can move towards Londinium." Louise commented, "If we were to wear ambassador's clothing furthermore, we'd be granted passage till the city without problems, and then we could always hide thanks to Arty's invisibility, and search for a suitable place." Finishing the thought with a grin, Henrietta stared at her friend biting her lower lip. She had to speak with her in private soon. The normal Louise Françoise would never even have thought about such a plan.
"It could work." Arty replied, "But I could do just the same by going alone with Louise, and then knocking over and capturing Cromwell. There would be no bloodshed at all."
"There might be a problem with those plans: the nobles of Tristain and Germania all hope for a victory that would make them richer in land." Henrietta whispered, staring in embarrassment at the floor.
"I see. It's a pity I will not let them have it their way, then." Arty replied with a grin, looking at Louise.
"Louise, I'll go prepare our fast travel mean towards Londinium, speak with Henrietta, since she's wanted to speak to you in private for hours now." With a final chuckle, the Wizard excused himself.
Henrietta stared shocked at the King of Necros moving away, and then stared at Louise:
"Louise…he may disregard my will and do as he pleases, but you are a noble of Tristain! Certainly you understand that…" but she was cut off when Louise simply slapped her straight in the face. She, who had never been slapped before in all her life, had now been slapped, for the first time, by her friend!
"Your majesty, before being a noble of Tristain, I am your friend, so, I will do what is best, regardless of what others in the nobility want. If they have complains, I'll send them to Arty, or to the other side with my wand. I am no longer the *Zero*, your highness. I am the Dark Void." With those words, Louise turned and left, a cold breeze suddenly passing between Henrietta's soul and heart. She trembled, looking at her friend's back, and at how it seemed to be too far away for her to reach; just what had happened to her friend?
Louise exited the mansion's door, to find Artos standing straight in front of her, on the upper deck of the Varsenda, the ship chosen to hold the *meeting*. The sky was cloudy, as the night had gently taken over the light of the day.
"So?" Arty asked the girl, staring at her with a smile, as his vest sprouted a mantle as white as snow, and a crown as golden as the sun emerged from his head;
"I'm with you Arty, no matter what, I know you'll do the right thing." Louise replied, staring at him with a small grin, "That doesn't the change the fact that I'm going to regret this tomorrow." The pink haired girl added.
Arty laughed, "Everyone regrets something they have done, my dear Louise!" as those words were uttered the Wizard brought his right hand in front of him, staring at the clouds in front of him. Louise moved next to him.
Oh he's going to summon the dragon.
The dragon?
Yeah, the dragon.
He's going to call a dragon?
No: THE dragon.
"Come, bringer of my will, judge of my testament, devourer of my enemies. Come, first born of the volcanoes, raise your wings to my will, fire molded into form!" as Arty opened his arms, a loud, bellowing roar was heard in all the fleet, and the clouds themselves turned red, for a moment, before two wings bigger than any battleship, flapped forward, soon followed by a majestic body, whose red scales flickered like made of light themselves, the dragon roared as it soared upwards, towards its master, and Arty grinned, as grabbed Louise by the waist, he jumped downwards, leaving a stupefied Henrietta who had come out to pursue the two, to stare in shock, as after jumping down, they found themselves rising above the ships, on the back of giant red dragon, who, with a final roar, moved faster than the ships towards Albion. Louise touched the scales with her hand, as she held hard to Arty's waist.
"THIS IS OUR MEAN OF TRAVEL?" she screamed, to make herself heard, even with the strong wind against them.
"I am *not* a mount, BRAT" the dragon…replied? It flew, it was red, yet it replied, strong enough to be heard.
"She didn't mean it like that, friend." Arty replied with another laugh.
"He's spe…" speaking, she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue, that would be wrong to say.
Good, you're starting to understand when to talk and when not to.
It would have been wrong to act surprised, right?
It would have been a sign of weakness and ignorance. Ignorance is Weakness.
S: Weakness is weakness, no matter what.
B: …I find myself to agree with Sfor on this one.
S: AH!
"I am the first born of the fiery volcanoes of the Fertek! The devourer of orcs! So, Artos, king of Necros, the city of the everlasting dead, have you brought my usual payment?" as he roared that into the night sky, Arty smiled and nodded in silence.
"Good to know!" as the red dragon replied with a fierce fiery grin, Louise couldn't help but ask herself how the dragon had spotted the wizard simply nodding.
She had other questions however, which were being queried in her mind.
Everlasting dead? And what's the usual payment?
He's the devourer of orcs, guess his payment what it will be?
But you don't have orcs with you!
Doesn't matter, there are orcs in Albion, right?
Well yes, also as mercenaries…wait. You're offering them!
If it was me, I'd have offered them, but it's Arty we're talking about, so he conned him into accepting without looking first at the prize, so now he'll have to hunt them on his own. In this way, orcs survive and the red dragon is pissed at us and we can't use him anymore.
You have yet to answer my first question. *Everlasting dead*?
Well… I suppose it means that there are dead people who ever last.
You're trying to ignore my question: it's not going to work any longer. You also *did* mention a certain necromancer streak in Sfor.
S: Was I called in? I have risen from my slumber!
B: No, you were not. Well, what do you want? The truth? We *might* raise some bodies to do our bidding, but it's not like they aren't *volunteering* for it.
L: Raising the dead? You can conjure undead?
S: CONJURE! We can conjure them, create them, empower them and make them special: we've got our own breeds! WE are the best with the undead. We do have a *special* feeling with them after all.
B: That's why you should have kept your damn mouth close Sfor.
L: You two are…undeads. Arty is an undead too?
B: Welcome to Obvious facts! First obvious fact is: no, he's alive; he's warm considering how you're holding tightly to his waist I say you can understand it. Second fact: I'm a rotting corpse and Sfor is a flying skull, what could we have been?
S: I could have been a demon entrapped into a skull, flying around a nameless one guy.
B: Ignore him.
S: WHAT!
L: So…you're undeads. Evil, dark, broody, undeads.
S: The best there is.
B: Well, yes.
L: …I don't know what to think.
B: Then don't; let things go as they are, stick to the plan and everything will be fine, as the pebbles align, and the circle is done, the truth will come.
S: And *I* was the one with talking issues.
B: I love muttering prophecies, got a problem with that?
S: Oh no, I don't.
L: What are you talking about?
B: Not going to tell you, yet.
L: I'm not sure who to trust.
S: Then trust no one, and act on what you see.
L: I'll do that then...but that would mean trusting your word on the matter…so wha…
S: I'm in love with her stupidity.
B: Come on, she's making progresses.
Louise stopped to reply to the two voices in her head, even though it was hard to ignore them speaking about her progresses, or her stupidity gauge, and things like that. She tried, however, and in the end, their voices quieted down.
As she looked back in front of her, she could see it faintly, at the horizon, the dawn coming up, and floating above the clouds, but under them, the tiny dot which was growing with size with every batting of the dragon's wings, Albion, was appearing once more. The dragon was fast not because he was inherently fast, like Sylphid, but because he was colossal, and the extra speed was his natural stamina, enabling him to flap his wings for longer times, instead of simply gliding.
She had instinctively grabbed Arty's waist, her right cheek pressing against his chest side, to avoid the biting frost of the wind.
"It is cold." She whimpered, as her nose began running, it also froze on the spot, making her look like she had icicles stuck right there.
"Come over here then." Arty whispered, covering her under his white mantle for the most part, "Should keep you warm until we arrive."
"Never thought you'd be a softie Artos." The dragon bemusedly spoke, "I recall your utter uncaring for your allies during the winter wars in the tundra's."
"Those were different allies, furthermore, they were wizards perfectly capable of casting Contrast Elements, if they didn't and preferred to die from the cold then it was their own decision." Artos replied calmly.
"You may fool lesser beings, Artos, but you cannot fool me; still, I'm not going to interrupt your fun. In the end, everything moves towards what its destined path is." As the Dragon grinned, with a couple of final, strong, wing pushes, they were over Albion.
The Albion's fleet, who had moved into a blockade like section, never knew what hit them, well, actually they did. Their scout ships, fast and nimble battleships with little protection, saw a red fiery dragon, bigger than anything they had ever seen before, and then, they saw fire. Exploding into fragments, the dragon soared through the burning and exploding ships, making its own path straight through. The moment of panic and trauma was soon replaced by anger, as the ships began firing cannonballs, one after the other, while the Albion's dragoon launched all they had in magic against it. The problem was that the cannon balls were deflected by the thick scales of the beast, who grinned evilly as it snatched a dragoon for a moment in his jaws, and with a sickening crunch made it into a snack. With a deafening roar the dragoon's mounts dispersed, realizing that no matter what, it wasn't worth it. As the platoons broke up, the dragon aimed for a battleship bigger than the other with a wicked grin.
"Food in a box!" it roared with a wide and scary chuckle, as its front paws flung themselves forward, grabbing the ship and pulling it down with full strength, before tearing it apart, and spewing flames in the crack, making it literally explode within his hands.
With an evil laugh, it finally left the terrorize blockade, moving into the island's air space.
"So, which city must I burn to the ground, King of Necros?" the dragon asked after a while, seeing little glints of light in the horizon.
"None, you are…dismissed." As the dragon, for the first time, stared in surprise, he was suddenly snapped away from that dimension itself, and Louise found herself held by Arty's arm, flying above the floating continent.
"What did you do!" Louise exclaimed, holding herself tightly to the Wizard, to avoid falling.
"I summoned him, thus I could bane him back to his plane of existence whenever I wanted. Now let's move. Londinium awaits." As he whispered that, he began descending on the floating continent, keeping a low flying altitude, Louise on his shoulders, as a shroud of invisibility covered them both.
"By the way, I'll need a full day's rest before beginning with the plan, you'll have to guard me while I sleep; it's fine?" Arty casually asked.
"Don't worry: I've got your back." Louise replied, blushing slightly, since she actually was touching his back.
The rest of the trip, done by Arty's flying spell, passed in silence, as they slowly descended nearby the city of Saxe-Gotha, in a small rural town, that had a wooden warning mentioning how this was the town of Westwood, where Arty removed the invisibility, and began walking.
The thought of the dragon's ease in crushing a blockade lingered for a moment into Louise's head, but another thought, soon removed, made her think, for a brief instant, about how it would have been better, if she had been the one summoning the dragon.
Arty seemed to know where he was going, because, as some little boys and girls moved out of their houses to stare at the duo, especially at the strange man who had a crown and a white mantle, he took a straight turn towards a bit on the side of the village, where a small wooden cottage stood. Louise stared for a moment at the wizard, before muttering:
"Arty; I've got a question."
"Yes?" the Wizard asked back.
"Why didn't we teleport to Newcastle? Why did we have to use a dragon to break a barricade?"
"Fear saves lives, Louise. Many, afraid of other dragons like those, will most likely yield than fight, and thus, their lives will be spared." As Arty pointed that out, a chuckle came from behind the duo.
Louise turned, wand raised, just in time for Arty to push her wand down, and make her stare at the green haired woman.
"Fouquet!" Louise exclaimed, seeing the woman, and a younger girl with a wide white hat next to her.
"Sister Mathilda, you know them?" the blonde haired girl asked, holding some wood in front of her, that, once Arty had obviously taken from to show his knightly attitude, revealed a broad chest, the size of which was unachievable even by the Zerbst's standards.
"Always a knight, Arty." Fouquet, or how her name really was, Mathilda, giggled staring at him with a small smile, before giving him a kiss on the side of the cheek.
"So he's the man you've fallen…" the blond girl wanted to say, but a stare from the woman made her silence, and blush.
"Tiffania, this is Artos, Artos, this is Tiffania, my young sister. Why are you and…the brat, here?" she asked once more, as she invited them both into Tiffania's house.
"Well…it's a long story, after the revolution of Gallia, now it's time to revolutionize Albion too." As Artos said that, Louise stared at him in surprise, wasn't their plan to…
B: Oh ninth circle of hells no.
S: For the love of all that is skeletal.
L: What?
"You really intend to do that?" Mathilda asked again seriously, staring at him, and then at … Tiffania? Louise muttered:
"Arty, hum…how can I say it…what are we…"
"We are putting on the throne of Albion the rightful last descendant of the Albion's royalty, Tiffania Tudor." Arty replied seriously, as the young girl fainted, and Mathilda sighed.
Louise instead, simply stared.
WHAT! WHAT! WHAT THE …
S: Calm down, take a deep breath and think about the ponies.
L: I DON'T CARE! BUTCHER THE PONIES AND EXPLAIN!
B: Listen to…him/us, and you'll know it soon enough.
"Well, as Mathilda explained, Tiffania here is the daughter of the youngest brother of the previous king of Albion, who was an archduke at the palace, and the accountant. She was born of a mistress and thus is a … well…"
"A bastard child," Mathilda went on explaining, "But without any other heirs, she is, after all, the remaining royalty of Albion. When Arty spoke about how he would have preferred to bring a rightful heir on the throne…well…I told him of Tiffania."
Louise stared at the green haired woman, then at the fainted girl.
"Proof. I want a proof. She could be conning you Arty! I mean, she's a thief!"
"I trust her word, Louise. She gave proof enough, furthermore, while I'm at it, this is hers." Saying that, Arty removed from inside one of his pockets a carillon box, how it actually fitted in the pocket was another of the Wizard's tricks, but still, Mathilda stared at the box with a slight warm smile.
"Where was it?" she asked, emotions betraying her face as her eyes turned watery.
"In the Gallian's treasury; you wouldn't believe what else I found in there…" as he said that, he removed a couple of objects from his hand, which Louise stared for a moment.
"Wait! That's the Founder's censer! And that is the Founder's music box…just…and that's the wind ruby of Albion!" she nearly screeched, seeing so many void things appearing from Arty's pocket.
"Oh, I found them all in the Gallian's treasury actually."
Something, at that moment, tore into Louise.
S: Oh this is bad.
B: Bad like a solar coming with some lube?
S: Really bad, like my relationship coming here for me.
B: OH SHIT: EMERGENCY, ALL HANDS ON DECK! PREPARE THE COUNTERMEASURES!
Louise didn't have the time to reply, as she suddenly felt pulled on the ground, darkness enveloping her vision, and then, she outright fainted there.
***Londinium ***
Cromwell received his guests alone. The reason he was actually alone was that his secretary, Sheffield, had gone missing since a couple of weeks, and was nowhere to be found. That, added with the sudden change of ruler of Gallia had brought him to seriously start thinking about peace. Until he had received a vision in his dreams, to call forth people who had a faith different from that of the founder, those *chosen* ones would bring forth a new age for him. Therefore, he had obeyed, sending out pamphlets, people, messengers, and he had found the first one, a bulky barbarian of Albion's forest, who yelled of the might of Kord to his fellow tribesman. Then, they had found a group of strangely clad in leather man, who preached of nature and of Elhonna, a certain goddess of nature, in what the messenger had deemed to inform him was the most *Dark patch of jungle the Founder had ever created in his action*. Then, many had flocked into the city among the guards, calling themselves the chosen of Heironeus. Others had begun worshipping a certain Pelor, because a Saint had appeared in the nearby areas, and it had also solved the problem of the rampaging monsters around the outskirts of the countryside. They would have been branded as heretics, normally, but the problem had been that, their prayers were actually answered by something, or someone.
So he had no choice but renounce the church, while not openly saying that, he had still called for a meeting with those gods *chosen ones* and was now waiting, on the day he had been told they would arrive, in his office; Alone.
The door slowly opened, as his new secretary, a small man with a sleazy grin, bowed, warning him of the visitors he had been waiting.
"Let them in." Cromwell said, taking a deep breath; why did he have to be so nervous? Well, he had just been a local chaplain, and then, after a night of drunken feasts, he had found himself with powerful allies, and had become the chief of the Reconquista. Yet the founder had failed them, and an undead plague had scourged the land, many had seen it as a sign of the founder's anger, but the propaganda had managed to value it as a dirty last resort from the previous royalty.
What he hadn't expected was seeing a thirteen year old girl walk in, covered in dry mud for the most part, red hair barely distinguishable on her head, with strong green eyes, followed by a fifteen year old in a muddied armor, and both had behind them what looked like an old hunter.
They weren't alone however, as soon after they entered, the door swung open again, and the Kord barbarian strode in with a loud laughter, muscles in plain view and no idea of decency, his hair bright blonde, his eyes blue, and he was swiftly followed by a strange looking guy with a book chained to his right hand, who looked on the verge of a coughing fit, with pale skin and brown hair with hazel eyes. Finally, the door closed, and as Cromwell was about to speak, it swung open once more, as a stocky, bearded thing made his way inside clad in steel. It spoke like a thunder and his voice was coarser than any heard before:
"FOR MORADIN! Where's my axe, my precious Brojnlir, going to strike? Come on Tall guys! Who's got my beer for Moradin!" as he said that, Cromwell stared in shock.
Just…where had he come in from?
His secretary stormed the room, panting heavily, looking a bit, well, ruffed up.
"Emperor Cromwell! I'm sorry. He simply barged in, this…this."
"Careful there!" the dwarf replied, the axe's handle at the ready.
"No need to be flustered, I presume this should be…" as he was about to say *everyone* he muttered a slow curse to himself, as the window opened, to let in a most earnest child, who smiling and waving to everyone made its way with the rest of the group:
"Halfling Zick Fast-feet at your service! Olidammara is ready to roll today!" as he beamed that, the child actually looked like a full-fledged man, except for his small size, he had blackish hair, but blue eyes, and seemed unable to stand still more than a second.
"So…I presume you're all here, now." Cromwell sighed then slowly looked around for a moment, before muttering "Founder's forgive me if there's another one coming in while I'm explaining. Please, take a seat." As Cromwell said that, pointing to the set of chairs around a round table, many sat, but some, especially the boy with the armor, excused themselves saying they would probably creak and destroy the chair.
The dwarf first destroyed the chair and then stayed up though, swiftly followed by the barbarian who did the same.
"So…I take it you are the chosen of the gods…right?" the emperor was sweating as he asked that, and the group looked at each other before the dwarf, obviously, took first word:
"Listen here pal! Moradin explained to me the situation: You've got a really, really wicked monster in your plane, and he's coming straight HERE, TODAY, to slaughter you lot. We are here to stop him, because the gods gave it a fifty-fifty chance if we banded together to fight him. While we do that, however, you have to stay in the goddamn central square, because if you try running, he'll slit your throat easily. Stay in the damn open and in the light, because he wants you alive. Or you'd already be dead, for Moradin"
Cromwell gulped drastically, as many others stared in surprise.
"I have to *ask* what are you? And you too?" as Cromwell said that, he pointed both to the dwarf and to the adult as tall as a child.
"Halfling here, born of Yondalla but believer of Olidammara!" the adult as tall as a child said with a wide grin, making a dagger spin into his right hand with ease, "We are a race of troublemakers and happy to go guys, quick feet and nimble fingers, but especially, beautiful to boot!" as he said that, the Dwarf laughed once more.
"Ah! I'm Torderk Ulfgard of Clan Rotnaghroz! If you want to know, it means *Stone crushers* from the dwarven tongue! I'm a dwarf furthermore, but that's obvious to everyone, right?" as he said that, the bearded guy looked for a moment around, and then sighed, seeing the shocked faces.
"Fine then: we are the proud builders of the mountain halls! Our steel is thick as a wall and cuts as a diamond's saber, our forges run every minute with hot, steaming, fluid metals and alloys. We are the dwarves! The ultimate badass destroyers of problems! Forged by the god Moradin himself; first comes the clan then comes the dwarf king, then the dwarf kind, and finally ourselves!" as he proudly beamed such selfless display of ideals, Cromwell sighed. He had no clue at all what they were talking about, but he just hoped they could help.
"So, you are here to protect me from a monster, right?" as he asked that, many nodded, except Jeanne and Cristopher, who had no clue about the whole deal.
"If I may…what monster is it?" Jeanne hesitantly asked, to which Zick turned to stare at the girl in shock.
"You…you don't know?" he hesitantly asked.
"Well, no. Should I have known?" she replied meekly, to which the man who had the book chained to his wrist muttered in a slow and baritone voice:
"You should have, child. We are up against the worst monster ever to be born, one who is both the inspiration of many and the doom of many more." As the pale man spoke, Torderk screamed in a really angry tone:
"That monster is over seven hundred years old, and there are tales spun deep in the dark tunnels of the mountain homes, speaking of his unfathomable evil acts. He has enslaved dragons, butchered countries and people alike, he is known to rival the GODS…except Moradin, because Moradin is awesome." As the dwarf said that, the pale man coughed, and got back his attention:
"As I was saying, the monster has a name well known to those of his plane: he is Artos Basileus Sfor, King of Necros, Destroyer of Good and Reaper of souls and, as of the latest announcements, bearer of the thunder and of the death wings…"
"He added something ELSE to his tricks! Oh Olidammara grant me nimble fingers, because I'm so stealing those *death wings*" Zick exclaimed, raising his eyes up to the ceiling.
"Anyway, he's a cunny beast in the form of a rotten corpse, wherever he goes, fear follows, as long as he is prepared, he is undefeatable by all except the gods themselves, and the gods can't act unless he openly challenges them. A feat he is preparing for since decades, but which has yet to see it beginning, thankfully." As the man said that, Jeanne gulped heavily.
"And we must fight it?" as she asked that holding Pelor's symbol tightly with her right fist, she could feel the warmth of the amulet, but still a lingering fear was taking control of her insides."
"No, we must ambush him." Zick said, interrupting the Wizard.
"That's not honorable! We should challenge him to a duel fair and square." As Cristopher said that, the Kord barbarian roared raising his fists up in the sky.
"The force is strong in this one! I Lionroar of the Northern Mountains of Albion will challenge him too straight on."
"Then you'd better get to it, because it seems he's coming." The dwarf spoke gravely, standing up and taking off his helm just for a moment, to reveal the upper part of the head gravely injured by what looked like a wicked claw.
"I can sense him coming…we must hurry...he'll be here tomorrow at most."
"What! But, the army is…" Cromwell was shocked: the army was halfway between Rosais and Dartanes, because those had been the two possible arrival of the Tristain's fleet, and not having received word of their defeat it was impossible for them to have already been conquered.
"EMPEROR CROMWELL!" the secretary yelled entering the room once more, "we have received word from the blockade messengers: a dragon as big as a mountain has broken through!"
"So he comes. Let's get moving folks, we have a city to booby trap." As Devon muttered that, everyone turned to him for a moment.
"What? Name's Devon by the way. I speak only when I need to," having said that, he turned to leave, and, hopefully, to be followed.
***Louise's inside***
The Vortex was spinning wildly, spewing forward strange and abhorrent creatures, which Basileus and Sfor were battling with spells. The scenery was that of an overly charred battleground, because where Basileus preferred to summon monsters, and actually seemed to do just that to bolster their defenses; Sfor was going outright out with the most destructive spells she had even seen. Adding that that was her soul, it made her feel scared. The strange creatures held no form, at least, some of them, others looked greenish, wearing strange monk-like outfits, a name actually came into her brain, that of the Githzerai. Soon, however, it was substituted by another one, Aberration. Abominations were actually spewing forth, and as she stood there, not knowing what to do, Sfor swiftly flew near her, crackling in joy:
"They started acting the moment those objects resounded with your void! Your void isn't keeping them in check anymore, whatever you need to do, DO IT, because we're running low on spells!"
"SFOR JUST START USING THE SPELL-LIKE ABILITIES!" the rotting lich howled as clasping his hands together, a spear of lighting was thrown forward, striking a githzerai and moving then to the next target, leaving hollow chests where it went.
"I AIN'T SUMMONING NOTHING!" the skull replied bewildered, as a set of eight rays spew forward, grabbing the souls of the githzerai straight out of their bodies, now turned to dust corpses, and actually, devouring them.
"I … what should I do!" Louise screeched, as she held her wand, or what she had come to learn was her mental manifestation of her wand, tightly.
"GO GET YOUR VOID BY THE EAR AND BRING IT BACK HERE!" they both shouted at the same time, before something that looked like an Hybrid between a clam and a black hole moved forward, grunting something like "Cloyster!".
Louise turned around, searching for something that vaguely resembled the void she had been tasked to search for, but nothing seemed to her familiar, except nothingness, that was, at least, until she heard something sobbing in a corner.
"DISINTEGRATION!" she could still hear behind her, cast by Sfor.
"I CALL MY SCOURGE! I CALL MY SWORD! THUS SAYS YOUR LORD!" Basileus had resorted to fighting fire with fire, as from another portal demonic beings spewed forward, clashing hardly against what was turning more and more like a battlefield.
Louise ignored them, concentrating on the sobbing, which seemed to grow stronger by the second, as she moved towards the corners of her soul, to finally find a figure sitting down, holding its own legs as a sort of defense, while being in a fetal position.
She moved closer to the figure, which seemed like that of a young girl.
"Ehm…are you the Void?" Louise asked, carefully holding her wand at the ready.
"Divided. Fragmented. Unconscious." The figure wept.
"Well, listen, I'd like it if you'd get back to holding at bay the portal, because…"
"FOR THE LOVE OF NECROS; BLADE OF UTTER DARKNESS!" as Basileus yelled that, he launched himself forward, slashing and destroying upon every hit the creatures born of the worst nightmares.
"Well, yes, that's going pretty badly over there." Louise muttered.
"Once united. Bring us back together." The figure kept on crying, "Killed us. Divided us. The Elf killed us, shattered us."
"The elf?" as Louise queried, she turned her head due to a sudden bright flash, just in time to see Sfor send two giant force hands to crush a couple of unfortunate fire elementals belonging to the enemy's side. At least, she hoped it was like that.
"HANDS ON!" the skull gleefully roared.
"You and your puns! TEMPEST OF NEEDLES!" Basileus cast again, as thousands upon thousands of needle hit forward, tearing small holes and causing severe bleeding in many of the assailants.
When Louise turned back, the figure was in front of her, causing her to shriek and try to jump backward, try, because she couldn't move her feet.
"The Elf, the Familiar. The killer of the master. The Gandalfr, the betrayer. Sasha." As she pronounced that word with hate, her empty eye sockets stared deeply, if so they could, into Louise's.
"Make me whole. Kill the others. Give me back my strength. I will stop them. But disobey…and suffer." With those words, the figure leapt past both Basileus and Sfor, who were strangely back to back, surrounded by a couple of strange amorphous ensemble of limbs and claws and teethes.
"I wanted to eat and to devour." Basileus muttered.
"I wanted to tear and to rend." As Sfor added, strange looking sword appeared, like they had been made with teethes of fierce animals.
"RENDING SWORDS" they both cast, as the swords began swirling around, every wound made causing enormous amounts of blood to gush forward, dark blue blood.
The *Void* creature moved to swirl once more around the vortex, stabilizing it, and Louise felt a sense of relief as both the undead began *cleaning* up her soul.
"I must say, it was a nice exercise." Basileus noted.
"NEVER AGAIN." Sfor screeched.
"I second that motion." The lich immediately replied.
"I third it too." Louise muttered, as moving back to them, she suddenly felt so tired.
"You'd better sleep girl, we just fought a hellish battle in your soul: it's going to take a while to heal." Basileus whispered to her, hand-waving her to sleep, but somewhere, her mind knew she'd have the strength to resist the spell, she'd have the ability to do so, but she let the spell affect her never the less: she was too tired to do anything more, and she certainly would have enjoyed a good sleep.
***Westwood village***
Louise had fainted, and, after ruling it out as stress, Arty had offered as an apology a dinner for everyone in the village. He had done so after knowing that in truth the village was more of an orphanage for children who had their parents taken because of the war, and after hearing that sad tale, he simply couldn't let them go and not have dinner at his mansion. The bright white door had made many children go in an *Aw* like phase, before rushing in in neatly lines, as the ghostly butlers had been tasked with giving each children a basket, and go search for chocolate eggs to eat after dinner. The eggs being in the mansion's garden, and being carefully watched by the garden's inhabitants, namely the moving Hedges, Tiffania had the time to escort both Mathilda and Arty to the Wizard's bedroom, where he deposited the sound asleep Louise.
"Here we go." Arty whispered as he tucked the bed sheets for the pink-haired girl in a sort of paternal display of love. Then he turned with a broad smile to Mathilda and Tiffania, and escorted them back towards the dining room, which had the number of tables and chairs doubled, just to make sure there was enough space for all the children. There was enough space, and even enough food, albeit for once the supplies were risking of going under the half full mark. The *head butler* which differentiated from the other butlers for having a sort of red aura on top of his golden hue, held a sort of flag, signaling the levels of the supplies, and the children, taking it as a game, ate until their stomachs ached, and they could fit no more of the delicious delicacies.
Only Tiffania seemed to control herself among the children, but even then, she was just mortal, and like everyone else, soon fell into a nearly comatose sleep of self-satisfaction. Mathilda was, instead, a more controlled eater, being a thief helped too, considering the self-control needed to simply not steal everything that shined, so she was just mildly induced to sleep, and not completely.
"Arty…you're a great host, you know?" she muttered, slightly red from the wine, the only adult there together with the King and thus the only two the butlers had brought wine instead of juices.
"Thank you for the compliment." Arty replied with a smile, he didn't seem fazed at all by the amount of food eaten, and it was more like the butlers had carefully avoided serving him more than needed, but at the same time, never leaving his plate empty until the end.
"Now however, what is your plan going to be? They won't so easily accept her, you know…" Mathilda whispered, staring at the young girl who was peacefully sleeping on the chair.
"Why wouldn't they?" Arty asked back, with a small grin.
"Well, for once, there is no-one who can testify it, apart from me, and I was stripped of my nobility." As Mathilda said that, Arty grinned wider.
"Taken care of: one queen in Gallia earns her place to me, her daughter earns a mother to me, the Tristain's queen will follow for my alliance and Germania…well: I can always make them understand." As he said that, staring straight in front of him, he stood up, having seen a glint of something moving along the hallway.
"Wait here, whatever happens." As Arty whispered that, he moved quickly a butler handing over to him his staff.
Staff in hand he exited the door of the dining room, Mathilda surprised, but staying put, at least, for five seconds, before standing up, and being literally brought back down by the horde of servants.
Arty on the other hand moved fast, he heard no footsteps, but needed not to, he knew where to go and find his unexpected guest: the library.
It was a blonde woman, with a pigtail braided in such a way that it descended straight till the middle of her height. She turned, showing blue eyes, and a warm smile. Dressed in what looked like white fur, the perfect example of purity, if it weren't for the fact that, holding in her arms, was the dirt and covered with grime book of the crack jokes, and her smile, which was something wicked and utterly impossible.
"This is cruel, even for you, laughing thief." Arty replied, angrily, his staff flickering to light, as the wood carved itself back into itself, to reveal underneath a black and polished staff, with skulls weeping tears of blood on the carpet.
"Don't be so pouty, Arty. I'm just taking it back. Sun guy didn't tell me he wanted it to torture you…maybe I should steal the memory of knowing this book too." She added, her grin distorting even more.
"Why the form then?" he replied with anger, as a spell charged itself and flickered slightly into the Wizard's free hand.
"Why, why indeed, I love to add oil to the fire." Olidammara replied with a laugh, before disappearing, just in the nick of time to avoid a double conjoined ray spell, which sent, with a loud explosion, the side of the mansions' wall into dust, grinding its way till it hit the boundaries of the mansion, leaving only a trail of destruction on its path.
As the Wizard howled his anger, Mathilda saw, her eyes bulging out of her orbits, an actual display of the man's power, and couldn't help it, but think why he simply went with sleep spells.
The butlers kept nudging her back, but she had soon realized that they simply weren't strong or material, she had to believe they were able to touch her for them to actually work on her; otherwise she could pass through them with ease.
Then, as she stood still in shock, Arty turned his gaze back towards the door, his eyes for a brief moment showing a sentiment that wasn't meant to be there, nor on his face. Mathilda slowly moved closer, and then, in silence, hugged him.
"Hush…what are you saddened for?" she whispered to the man whose eyes were beginning to water.
"Everyone…has something they regret having done…she is one of my regrets." He whispered back.
"Can I hear about her?" Mathilda asked.
"Sure…"
***Louise's dream-Artos' Story***
Louise stared for the first time in a while at the strange dream. It had been a while actually since the last time she had dreamed of Artos, actually. She looked at him moving a hand and a Drow exploding into bits, without fear or anger, hate or show of emotion, a rotting corpse moving silently, with an objective. The staff the drow held was black, with skulls carved onto it, it began weeping tears of blood, the moment the Lich touched it.
"Staff of the Necromancer, out of the nine staves, you are the wicked, the unwanted, the hated; come with me, and let us rule." The lich whispered, as the staff slowly assumed a wooden aspect, like a normal staff, like…
"The staff you are always holding." Louise whispered.
"WE MARCH!" the lich roared, waving a hand into the air, and suddenly, the corpses of the drows in the room began trembling. They jerked up with uncontrolled movements, standing back up even though many had burned parts cut off, or would have clearly been dead by the bleeding. Louise knew she had assisted to the revival of corpses as undead, she even knew those were Zombies, but what she didn't know was that they weren't the normal zombies. They stood in line, as the staff slowly hummed a note that only the undead could hear; a note that made the lich's control over them easier, and thus made them easier to control, and, by direct consequence, stronger.
Artos, or maybe Basileus, moved forward, and the corpses followed. Louise followed in silence, not understanding why he was doing that. Until the scene unfocused, to regain control of him in a grassy field, a white walled city in front of him; the same city he had come from, years before.
"She's probably married by now. The poison worked once more." A man that Louise recognized as Gustaf, the kid under Arty's protection, whispered to the lich's ear, with a gleeful grin.
"On a day of holy meaning," The Lich whispered, staring at the city in front of him, the undead beginning to move. "On a day where light shines brightly upon the rooftops," The Wizard went on. "On a day like this, when the people are enjoying a feast; on a day like this I lost it all. Today, we MARCH." And as his hand raised up in the sky, his staff wept tears of blood once more, and from each of the droplets, a skeleton was formed, and soon, the skeletons outran the zombies into the unaware city.
"Gustaf, prepare the mercenaries." Arty muttered, to which the man bowed, before standing back up to speak:
"All hail the new king of Terenestia." The man hadn't turned around, that Basileus lifted a hand, stopping him.
"No. This city will be soon black and charred as my hometown once was…this, I will call Necros, *dead*, Artos Basileus Sfor, King of Necros. Sounds fitting." The lich chuckled, and, as the man bowed once more, he left hurriedly, teleporting somewhere.
"We are the spear head. Let us do the dirty job." Basileus muttered, moving forward, a step at a time, as the grass around him turned grey and dull, rotting into wasteland.
"Arty…what poison?" Louise asked, following, "Whom did you poison? The men the princess, Elizabeth, had to marry? You kept her virtue pure all this years?" she asked once more, blushing at the thought.
"But you're now an undead…how is that even going to work?" She reddened furiously at those words, why was her mind that dirty, now?
As the gates of the city grew neared, Louise stared at the skeleton's claws tearing apart the few unsuspecting guardsmen first, and then making their way through the city's streets, filled with people.
The zombies, arriving together with the lich, blocked the exit, biting and lashing at anyone who tried to run for the only entrance, and exit, of the walled city.
"Only one gate can be an advantage or a disadvantage…it depends." Basileus whispered, as he tapped gently with his staff onto the grounds, and suddenly, the corpses of the dead guardsmen came back to life, in armor and with their weapon held tightly in their dead hands.
"Forward my soldiers, forward. To the church of Pelor. A marriage awaits being interrupted" As he muttered that with hate, he moved together with them, giggling every now and then as he whispered dark thoughts of what he'd do once he'd destroy the orphanage, or after burning down a couple of houses, he came to a halt, and Louise with him. Louise had been green since halfway through, and was now metaphorically puking everything her stomach had on the ground. The undead made no distinctions: they killed all, men, women, children, innocents and culprits, without disregards. She was starting to think that no; Artos wasn't going to interrupt the marriage for love.
"Who are you, vile…" a paladin had begun ranting, but was soon brought to silence, when an arrow stuck straight through his neck, sending him to a merciless death.
"The Black claw is at your service. As per contract, we will assassinate all faithful resistance from here till the church's boundaries." A single black clad in leather man approached, before disappearing in a back alley. The lich shrugged, moving forward once more, his steps taking him closer and closer to the church of Pelor, the Cathedral of light, placed atop of a hill, right next to the more inner walls to protect the lord's castle itself. The few groups of resistance scattered or were destroyed by his presence, and by strange dark rays that him as a lich, produced from the tip of his fingers, weakening or outright killing the poor folks.
The more he killed, the more he raised, and by the time he actually reached the cathedrals borders, many more had already joined his side.
Straight in front of the cathedral, stood a bronze clad man, in the groom's typical armor, which was worn when a marriage was between a member of the military, with tanned skin and an angry stare, his claymore that he was wielding with both hands, made him menacing, but, compared to Basileus, also pathetical.
"Wait. If he's there. Who did you poison?" Louise asked once more.
"So it was you!" the king yelled, "You poisoned all my brides! The people thought it was I! They hated me for it, and many revolted outright!"
"Necessary to ensure minimum resistance today. Your army of spitting camels elsewhere was needed." The lich replied, coldly.
"You don't refute the charges?" the king asked surprised.
"Why would I? You're going to die and that's final. Care telling me where the bride is?" Basileus muttered, once more.
"The bride is safe in the castle! You will not have her, vile and foul creature! You think your puny undead will survive the might of the gods!" as the man yelled that, the cathedral's doorsteps were suddenly swarmed by clerics, who took their positions and begun chanting.
"Got you all where I wanted." The lich smugly replied, as he raised his right hand, and then, crashed it down. Suddenly, the chants of the priest went interrupted, as the cathedral itself bend forward, crashing down on them all, behind it, stood roaring up the same elemental seen in Tarbes, not that Louise knew, but she just felt it was the same.
"Reduce to paste the survivors, Golgoth," as Basileus whispered that, the Elemental of Earth took to his duty, his rock fists smashing down with fury against the few clerics who had tried to stand up, and, without the cathedrals' holy support, the swarming horde of undead took care of the survivors with ease.
"This is what you get for being a Bedouin king of the West, and hating magic." The Lich muttered.
"A couple of wizards would have taken me far more planning than this." He added, even annoyed, as he made his way to the castle gates.
"No anti magic field? Really?" he was kind of shocked, as Disintegration swiftly opened a cube hole for him and a few of his undead to move through. A couple of guards ran forward, mounting horses and with lances ready to impale him. He didn't budge. The next moment, as the lances passed straight through him, both the cavalrymen were dismounted, as they didn't let go of their weapons.
"This is it? Really?" the Lich seemed utterly shocked. "Who trained you? Idiots!" as he flung them to the side, removing the two lances like they were nothing more than a temporary speck of dust in the eye, the lich moved forward. Louise simply stared, now she understood even more why she had to be afraid.
Really afraid.
The inner castle's guard began running, begging for their lives, and being turned to dust, or enslaved to his will in death, as long as they stood on his intended path. The library.
In the library, Louise stared at the blonde haired woman, who had a pigtail braided in such a way that it reached on her back till half her size, the woman, turning around with a surprised face, was holding tightly a book covered in dirt and grime and even blood.
"When I ran here, a zombie ate my old lady in waiting, but he didn't touch me. This is her blood, you know." She whispered, pointing at some blood stains on the cover.
"I brought it with me even at the marriage. I felt I needed to have some fun, you know, my sisters dead, my future husband the probable culprit, my father dead too…what was I supposed to do? In the end I had to marry him and I knew you would be angry." She added, as Basileus silently stared.
"I always regretted what happened that day, I really did, I thought I could save you both, really, but father caught me while I was carrying your woman outside, and I had to think quickly. Really, it was a mistake." Louise felt it, and so did Basileus: a lie.
"I really didn't want to, but I was forced to: her or you, and so…I saved you…hoping I could then mend the hole in your heart later."
"She was not my woman." Basileus replied, making a step forward, and earning himself a shocked look from the Queen.
"She was my sister." He replied, "And your half-sister." With those words, he stopped straight in front of the Queen who, albeit seeing a rotting corpse, was more shocked by its words than anything else, and stared at him, mouth open, wanting to speak but not knowing what to say.
"Let me spin you a tale of a prophecy foretold, to a king who asked if he could have a lover: If a lover will be taken, by the king of the white walled city, twins will be born, and one will be an instrument of destruction and utter evil, while the other will be of creation and light. Now tell me, which of the two am I?" as Basileus said that, Elizabeth's eyes bulged, as the rotten hands got to her neck.
"To ensure the prophecy never completed the king bought a band of mercenary to raid the peaceful village in which his mistress, an elf, lived. Plunder it and then kill or enslave everyone, but the kids had to die. That band of mercenary was a band of Bedouin, which later fought against others for the throne of the Desert of the West. Fun isn't it? You know what's funnier? A half-elf is born from an elven mother after two years of pregnancy. We were younger than the king thought, and so instead of killing us with care, my sister got kidnapped, while I got an axe in the back. I still have the scar, even in this corpse's form." Basileus' face moved closer to Elizabeth's who was in the process of having a mental breakdown.
"Then, lo and behold, I got taken in after stealing at the market, BASILEUS: THAT BELONGS TO THE KING!" as he yelled that, he threw the woman on the floor, with a loud thud.
"Artos was the name my mother chose for me, it meant *Bread*, it was a simple name. All that I wanted was to live a simple life, and get it over it, but a god decided that no, I should have been part of a prophecy, a prophecy so wicked, I ended up near the place I despised the MOST." As slowly as he moved forward, the queen moved backwards, crawling as fast as she could.
"The head librarian doted on me, because I had a quick mind; obviously, being a half-elf, I got my fair share of retard, but I grew up, yes, I did. Then you came along, wanting to play. A plan began forming up." As he said that, he stopped moving.
"You didn't realize it yet, but you never were natural at magic, I was the one who made the books go mad with a prestidigitation spell, and then faulted on you and your apparent discovery of magic…that's why you studied as a wizard, even though a sorcerer's path would have been the most correct choice…but your father was an idiot, that much was certain." The Queen stopped, staring at him, tears running down her cheeks.
"When I took up the surname Sfor, I thought about letting it be, about leaving the king in peace, and maybe, maybe, letting go of my anger. He wasn't worth it; but then, on the day of my adoptive father's funeral, nobody showed up. The pudgy and cute princess of the time had learned to say a nice little poem, and even though the head librarian had served for over FIFTY years, no one came to his funeral. Everyone, even the damn cleric, was at the royal court, hearing the poem being repeated till nausea." A small flaming sphere appeared right next to Basileus, as his gaze set on the Queen.
"I buried him myself, and then went to work in silence. Nobody even asked where he was, or how he was, he stopped being seen, so I became the new head librarian…and nobody seemed to care as a man who worked for fifty years with dedication was forgotten." Artos made a step forward, as the flaming sphere went to the side, touching some books and setting them on fire.
"Then, finally, I left this rotten place among insults, and found another way. I was to become a great wizard, a great teacher, maybe even the guild master. Until THAT PIECE OF SHIT decided to take it all away once more, and to top it off, my long lost sister was taken away too because of that shit's daughter. So now, you see, I am not here to save you, girl…I'm here to have my revenge." And with those final words, as the library began burning down, the flaming sphere bouncing everywhere it could, Artos moved steadily close to the Queen, and, as the Queen whispered her final words that the lich didn't hear, too taken in his revenge, the neck snapped, and the circle, finally, closed.
Louise heard. She heard and stared in silence. Artos Basileus Sfor wasn't a good guy at all. He was evil, cunny, and had power. He was a Tyrant, a necromancer, and even worst, yet she fell on her knees crying, as she realized how cruel fate can sometime be. Even worst, not fate, but the gods.
***Back to the present***
"Then, I snapped the queen's neck out of anger. I still remember how she looked at me, looked at the monster I had become, and how she probably faulted herself for everything, how I faulted herself for everything…I'm a monster, Mathilda, no matter what I do, I will never redeem myself in a lifetime…that is my regret, my worst one, my horrible unfathomable one I will never clear myself of." As he finished whispering that, Mathilda of Saxe-Gotha stared in silence at the man, the King of Necros, who was a city filled with undead, she didn't know what to do, she knew he was no longer that man, clearly, still, the knowledge of how dark his past was would make it easier for her to confess having been a thief to Tiffania, heck, even if she had been a bloody mercenary she'd have had an easier time than him. Yet he had relied on her for the first time, he had told her everything, and now she had no doubt she had to keep the secret, she looked at the man with a silently warm smile, and then kissed him on the lips, leaving him to stare at her for a moment, perplexed.
"I did bad things too, maybe not as drastic as you, but it was in the past…you have certainly earned yourself a redemption…" she whispered, "no one should hold such a weight alone, Arty…I can shoulder some, if you want to cry on a shoulder again."
"Thank you…" Arty whispered back, hugging the woman tightly.
At that moment, Louise woke up in the bedroom. She stood up, in silence, and silently moved out of the room.
"Going somewhere?" a voice asked her bemusedly, and, turning around, she saw…the princess, or queen, Elizabeth, if not for the smile, that wrong and utterly asymmetrical smile.
Olidammara.
"The Laughing thief…was the dream one of your tricks?" Louise muttered, anger showing off her magical aura, as her wand was swiftly by her side.
"Now, now, no need to be hasty. The dream was real and actual historical value. I just sent it your way without the other knowing. Those two in your head will soon come back and ask questions too, so, right now, how about some private time? You're going to have to choose, girl, sooner or later, between what you believe and what you are told…I can't wait to see what you're going to choose. It's going to be so much fun!"
"Why are you telling me this?" Louise muttered, angrily.
"Because when the time will come, I'm asking you to throw this at Sfor's feet, or well, whatever is his lower part." As she said that, she threw a strange looking bag, with a bright red string attached to it.
"Just pull the red string when the bag is under the skull, and the rest, will be magical to behold…*Wink wink*" and with that, and without further care, the God disappeared once more.
Louise grabbed the thing, which held on one side the image of a skull inside a red circle that had one diagonal line slashing it.
"Looks familiar," she mumbled, putting it into one of her *Practical Pockets* a sort of Heward handy backpack version, but as a pocket, she had no qualms accepting free stuff, and she did need to clear her head some more.
As she slowly descended the staircase, back into the main floor, she saw a hole torn apart into a set of rooms, much to the dismay of the sharks, as the hole had broken their pool and sent them dead for lack of water.
The sight she saw on the other side, however, made her stare in stiffened shock and surprise.
Arty was in a deadlock with Mathilda. A deadlock made of languid and passionate kisses the likes of which her brain couldn't actually proceed to register, nor did have any wish to understand, and, as such, she slowly retreated back towards the dining room, where the butlers, as if on cue, had already prepared her share of the food.
As she took a bite, the head butler waved his flag happily, they had touched the half-full/half-empty state of the supplies, and that, was a miracle by itself.
Author's notes:
Let the story go on, as the characters move upon the chessboard designed by a wicked dungeon master of doom *trademark*, evolution is coming, as some may say, wherever it is of character or not, that I do not know.
Obviously Arty did not give the full *I'm a lich* version to Mathilda, he's not (yet) that stupid. That said, who realized that I'm using some things from Disney songs to write some of the incantations? (The Plagues from the prince of Egypt, and *in the dark of the night* of Anastasia)
I swear I'll eventually get to the meeting with an elf, albeit that will be on a completely unrelated way from canon, because, as I said before (Did I actually write it?) I intend to move a bit out of canon soon enough.
Blinded: Thanks! And well, hopelessly dead not so much, between a hammer and an anvil? Yes. Between death and imprisonment for life? Yes. You've got to love emotional gods like the greeks/latin/d&d pantheon ones!
Anonymous: Thanks! If I may ask, what is the *other* crossover you value as the best? (might have already read it, or might not, curious)
Anyway, reviews are, as always, welcomed.
