Maraxus: Greetings readers, welcome to another exciting chapter brought to you by the very talented Sunjinjo on deviantart, and posted here with her kind permission. So let us once again speak with our lovely, and lethal, Lady Jinx. Pleasure as always to speak with you, milady.
Jinx: Pleased to be spoken and listened to! If it weren't for these little chats I'd yearn to be seen and heard even more.
Maraxus: Well, you are always welcome here to let us know what's on your mind. Let's start with the big upcoming topic, you, Estell, and Angelis. Symbolic return for you, or next area of conquest for him?
Jinx: A bit of both. We plan to use my return to win some resources for all of us... but mainly for Estell, of course, as far as he's concerned.
Maraxus: It'll be interesting to see who takes the spotlight. Let us continue the journey.
Halfway to Hell Part 1
(NAPATA)
The air inside the tent was warm, still and putrid with rot. The Ruborian sun burned outside, and the quiet murmur of voices could be heard. From further away came the sound of rougher shouts, barked orders and the rattle of steel.
Faltering coughs. "They are… busy on the wall, Sulimar fahid. Wonder why –" A new fit of coughing interrupted the words.
Lord Sulimar briefly placed a hand on the scabby, bald head of his patient. "Ssh. Don't speak." He beheld his fingers with mild distaste as he pulled away and a thin layer of skin came with them. Then he made use of the pale glow of his healing magic again. Napata's lepers needed help, and badly.
The last few weeks he and all of his fellow healers had used their gift to rid the Ruborian city of disease, and it'd been quite the task, even though they had over a hundred fully skilled elves and a large, functional camp with a blooming, magical oasis at its heart. Napata's poor had been heavily infected, and though the rich had done their best to keep the river or at least a lot of space between them and the sick, they too had often visited the elven camp. Sulimar recalled a specific middle-aged man, his dark face grooved with old worry, his right wrist a rounded stump. He'd said he'd lost that hand long before the disease, and he'd once been part of Kerma's old nobility.
The elf had even welcomed dwarves into his tent, and hadn't been the only one. He'd aided all without distinction, however; the Light was there for everyone. This was the first step towards a lasting peace between Stodir and his own current home in Saipern. This was the way back to Nosyar and Orntal, the ancient capitals of moonlight and many-hued blossoms.
The disease had been all but extinguished now. Sulimar's fingers hovered over the oozing open wounds on the back of the boy before him, and his patient visibly relaxed as the raw sores closed into a patchwork of pale scars on smooth, dark skin.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Amir, fahid."
"Amir, is the disease fully gone from the city?"
"I was the last one in my street, fahid." The boy looked up at him, respect and gratitude in his crusted, but gleaming eyes. "Everyone… I know has been healed."
"Your family?"
"No family, fahid."
Sulimar nodded lightly. Amir lifted a hand and looked at the stumps of his fingers, eaten away by the disease. "I'm sorry I can't heal them," Sulimar spoke.
"It's alright. I still have hands." The boy smiled. Then another dwarven roar resounded outside the tent, from atop the nearby city wall from the sound of it. "…I wonder what's going on out there."
"Can you understand them?" Sulimar did speak a little bit of the dwarven language, but these raw commands were incomprehensible to him. However, he had no reason to fear Napata's dwarves; they'd allowed him and the elves under his wing to do as they would for weeks now, and after all, they were indebted to them for curing their disease.
Amir looked back, and shrugged. "I never learned to speak their tongue very well."
Those were the last words ever spoken inside Sulimar's pale tent.
Half a second later dwarven commands and faraway rattles were drowned out by a thunderous blow tearing through Sulimar's eardrums, shaking the ground and collapsing the tent. Amir cried out, the sound muffled through the static clouding Sulimar's every sensation.
Then, with a crazed sort of strength, the elf managed to push off the tent and claw through the canvas.
Right at the moment fire was opened.
For an instant he had no idea what he was looking at – there was simply too much chaos. Running elves, Ruborian patients, even the odd dwarf. Screams, increasingly clear now Sulimar's hearing returned. Smoking wreckage. The oasis at the camp's heart, blown apart – the elegant trees, their seeds brought in from distant Saipern, strewn across the ground in splinters and torn branches, sharp pieces of hardwood piercing the bodies of a few unfortunate victims.
The fire completely ringed the camp, devouring, half as high as Napata's nearby walls. As the flames he stared at briefly parted, Sulimar could see the dwarven tanks and their flamethrowers behind it.
A cramped hand around his arm. He turned, eyes wide, barely understanding the equally intense terror on the Ruborian boy's face. "Fahid," Amir uttered. He opened his mouth –
– and gulped blood over Sulimar's face and chest. A dripping, razor-sharp steel tip protruded from his bare, scarred chest, almost touching Sulimar.
The elf backed away, pushing the boy off as he fell forward, dark eyes turning away. Then the chain on the harpoon's other end pulled taut, pulling the body back and up, towards the city.
Screams in the camp. More harpoons flew into the chaos, fired from the city walls. Steel tips buried themselves into shoulders, arms and legs, or struck fatally. The dwarves didn't seem to care much about how alive their victims were by the time they were violently catapulted into Napata. Sulimar flew aside to dodge a harpoon himself – then another struck his shoulder. He barely managed to tear the tip from his flesh before the chain pulled taut.
He spun around. There was still a chance. "The unicorns," he uttered. "The unicorns! Everyone to the unicorns!" He sprinted through the camp, helped someone up, healed someone else's fatal injury –
A hand closed around his arm in a vice grip, a pale mane flashed by, and suddenly he sat behind someone on the back of a unicorn, trembling all over. He recognized one of the group's finest warriors, come along for protection in moments like these. Her inky hair fluttered on the heat of the advancing fire now devouring tent after tent, and the wavy blade of her sword gleamed in the sunlight. "Mithralia," he uttered.
"We can't lose you, lord," the night elf bit at him. "Heal me and the unicorn when needed. We're going through the fire."
"Through the –"
"Through the fire!"
Now he saw more nightly warriors on unicorn back, racing to the aid of the less capable healers and plant singers. Plant singers were normally quite useful in battle, but not today. Shields of wood and vine offered no protection from explosives and dwarf-forged arrows, and Sulimar's heart skipped a beat seeing his camp, the tents once silver-white and veined like leaves, now spattered in scarlet, the desert soil drenched in red…
And then there was the fire, absurdly tall and straight ahead.
The unicorn pushed away from the sand and sailed up to the dancing tongues of flame. Sulimar clutched on to Mithralia, readied his healing powers –
– hooves clattered on the dwarven metal behind the fire, a huge crossbow whizzed as it fired at them but Mithralia made the unicorn swerve around, another leap, and they shot out into the desert. A look back told Sulimar more white bolts shot from the fire, away from the tanks, away from the camp, away from their dead and dying kin.
They bolted past Napata's city walls, and a deep horn rang out. "Escaped slaves!" a voice thundered. "Pytolista westward!"
They already see us as slaves. They've always seen us as slaves. It was always their plan to have us take care of the disease, and as soon as the last sick were out of the city… not even healed yet… they struck… Sulimar's mind reeled. After all those years in the Sanctuary, and later in the radiant white city in Saipern, he could barely conceive of this much cruelty.
Harpoons whizzed after them, but none of them struck their targets. The unicorns were too swift. As the silvery hooves passed from rock to sand, the rumbling underground soon started, but Mithralia had the unicorn zigzag in such a way that they were long gone by the time the sandworm exploded into the sky. The other survivors caught up to them, and the worm created a shield of billowing sand and scales between them and Napata.
"Are you alright, lord Sulimar?"
He nodded, trembling. "I think so."
Mithralia turned dark eyes to the north. "Welcome back to the world," she spoke bitterly.
(STODIR)
"Protect yourself! Protect yourself today!"
The little stall, covered in colourful fabrics and amulets, would normally stand out quite a bit on Noth Bomrek's sprawling markets at Stodir's heart. Now, however, it was no longer the only one of its kind.
"Protect yourself from magical influences and the Silver Shadow!" One of the merchants raised up a fistful of glittering amulets, made using an exotic mish-mash of metals and angular gems. "He took half of Ruvalk as slaves and overpowered and stole king Thorlond's black monster, any one of you could be next!"
Most dwarves mockingly passed the stall by, but some of them actually bought something. Most visitors from outside the mountain also equipped themselves.
From a distance, a cloaked figure silently watched the dwarves and amulets. Sky-blue eyes glistened under the hood, narrowing in a quiet smile, or a grimace. The Silver Shadow, hm?
A duo of dwarves, heavily armoured in black, red and gold, halted at the stall. One of them planted an elbow in a pile of wares. "Still at it? Are you actually making a profit?"
"If you earn as little as the others it won't take lord Rhunak long to kick you off his market," the other remarked.
"No, no! This one's working!" The addressed, brown-garbed dwarf pulled his amulets closer. "More and more visitors leave the mountain with our wares."
Dark eyes narrowed. "Say… you don't believe this yourselves, do you?"
"Pfft. What do you take us for?"
"Good, as the king has called something back to the city that'll actually work."
Blue eyes under a dark hood briefly widened. A moment later the cloaked figure was gone.
He might not have been able to help the elves… but he certainly managed to scare the dwarves.
Queen Fay, cloaked and hooded, moved through Stodir with a smile, but also a heavy heart. On her journey north it'd become more and more apparent to her that the dwarves no longer respected the elves, and feared them even less. Despite everything, she was proud of Estell, if only for the effect he'd had on the dwarves as he'd attacked Stodir.
She'd rather not dwell too much on all the other things he'd done. There'd be time for that when she'd finally find him.
She'd never visited the mountain city before, and hadn't been in dwarven company since her early youth – a time she'd rather not think about – but it didn't take her long to understand Stodir's layout. Simple and efficient, as befitting of the dwarves. This entire level was dedicated to clan Noth Bomrek and their slavery; the southern side was an exotic slave market, the north a place for the dwarven slaves and their simple, angular and colourless dwellings. The dwarves themselves stayed in grand, robust fortresses and keeps higher along the wall of their ring, alive with their characteristic, mineral-coloured fires.
She'd reached the stacking of simple, humble buildings in the blink of an eye, and arrived still glowing with the part of her aura she couldn't suppress in teleportation.
The dwarves had granted their slaves the bare minimum of materials and luxury; the buildings had thin walls and no doors, though ragged fabrics provided some privacy here and there. The elves were dressed in faded rags, so different from the night elves' rich robes or Everlight's colourful flowers and leaves. Even Fay's own cloak almost stood out here.
The queen shivered. It was all coming back to her. Here and there she saw her people with hammers or pickaxes in hand, and she once again heard the clamour of the temple construction, muffled through the thick walls of a royal mountain fortress, a lifetime ago.
She stepped through the narrow, dusty spaces between the dwellings, studying the elven faces from beneath her cloak. Dull eyes, faces full of resignation; their captivity had become routine, she knew. What have I been doing all this time? The Sanctuary needed protection – Estell needed protection, clearly also from himself – but I was needed here much more.
Once she arrived at the heart of the slave quarter she threw off her hood and let her aura flare. Sky-blue light streamed through and under her cloak in bursts, and the hem was lifted as though on a powerful gust of wind. Pale starlight shot through her entire body and cast her in an unworldly glow, and the elves looked up all around. "Greetings," she spoke in a soft voice. She knew she could be heard through the entire settlement, though not an inch outside it. "It has been too long, friends. Forgive me for my absence."
The initial reaction was one of disbelief; elves streamed in, touched her cloak, didn't seem able to take in their queen had actually returned. Then this made way for another sort of disbelief altogether.
"Now the Light comes back for us?" Incredulous chuckling, answered with crooked, wry smiles.
"Light? Are you quite sure?"
"Where've you been all these years, oh merciful Mother?"
Fay stepped back, and her aura peaked irregularly, uncertain and shocked. "My friends…" My children. Maybe even more so than Estell. As a mother she didn't have a choice, but even less so as a queen.
One of the haggard elves stepped forward, almost challenging. "No. None of that. You're the queen who abandoned her people. At the shipwreck twelve years ago – and before that, in the war before this one." He stared her right in the face, then turned away. "We've never been able to trust you. Go away."
Briefly Fay felt her eyes flicker, and she knew her irises rapidly shifted between blue and bright green. A few elves saw. "The dark queen," someone spoke, quietly, but clear as day to her. "The Overlord's mother. The old Overlord's lover."
A boy with bright eyes caught hers. "You're too dark for us, your majesty. We can't trust you." He lightly shook his head, and Fay felt her heart miss a beat. "We'll never follow you again. We'd rather take this life."
The queen brought a hand to her chest. She recognized the light elves' determination and the pursuit of purity – her own traits – and that hurt most of all.
The group closed up again, started scattering through the settlement. Fay looked after them with wide eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She'd protect her people from any enemy, with all she was – but she simply couldn't if they didn't want her. There was nothing she could do if those she wanted to protect refused her help. Too dark… merciful Mother, watch over us.
Then she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She quickly wiped her eyes and turned around.
A few elves with an entirely different look to their eyes awaited her, a glitter that hadn't been present with the others. "Your majesty," one of them bowed, a woman with auburn hair falling down her shoulders in messy locks. "We are glad to see you. If they don't want to follow you it's their problem, but we'd be happy to leave Stodir for freedom, and your company, my queen."
Fay brightened. Oh, thank you, my child. "…I cannot tell you how happy that makes me." She bowed her head and extended a slender hand. The woman took it, making a brief curtsey.
"Calyna, your majesty, at your service."
"No need for that," Fay smiled. "That's over for you. But…" She looked around, at the elves leaving with bowed heads and dull eyes, disappearing into their shabby homes. "…is there no way to take all of you with me? Everything would be better than this –"
Calyna smirked. "Those idiots? No, your majesty. They've made their choice." She looked over her shoulder to her own companions, new elves still joining in, all with that same glitter to their eyes. "We're your true faithful."
Fay briefly closed her eyes, then forced herself to put it aside. Her entire body flared with magic, and she readied herself. "Tell Stodir farewell," her voice resounded, alive with resonating undertones of power.
A sky-blue light lit up the slave quarter, and the queen and her new companions had vanished.
Not that much later, but very far away, a similar light flared in a green valley near the Ruborian border.
Queen Fay threw off her faded cloak, allowed her aura to discharge itself in irregular flashes, and smiled seeing the vegetation around her suddenly bloom blue and purple. Then she turned to her new followers, and her smile widened. "Friends, I can't tell you how happy I am to have you accept me after all these years. I've made my mistakes, the ones that stayed were right, but –"
"Mistakes?" Calyna stepped towards her through dewy grass. "Do you mean the time you spent in the Netherworld, as Lord Sayron's queen?"
Fay inclined her head. "What I did was unforgivable, but I hope I did enough to redeem myself in our Mother's eyes since then."
The auburn-haired woman raised her eyebrows. "What are you talking about? That was the best thing you ever did. Your deeds on the battlefield – Sayron's banner rendered us safer and more capable than we ever were in the Light. And now, now you've finally raised your son to follow in his father's footsteps – with you and the Silver Shadow, just imagine –"
Fay stepped back, eyes wide. "No. No, that's not… I've dedicated my life to preventing Estell from following that path…" The Silver Shadow. They use the name the dwarves gave him. Commotion broke out behind Calyna.
"Your majesty? You can't mean this."
"What, we're going back to the Light?"
"Isn't she taking us to Kadath?"
Calyna turned away. "No, no, this is good," she exclaimed. "We've left the mountain. Ruboria awaits." She looked at Fay. "Thank you for freeing us," she grinned. "But I'm sorry, your majesty, you're too light for us." She stepped away, and one by one all others did so too, completely ignoring their queen. A way out, used and now discarded; that was all she was to them.
And Fay felt her eyes flicker between blue and green, and then hold the venomous, lively hue. Too dark. Too light. Caught between two worlds. Cast out by both…
Who am I?
She had no choice. Her magic decided for her. The light flared, and the queen vanished.
(NORTH)
The village looked more like a city in the early morning light, with its crenellated walls, multiple-storied houses with pointed roofs, a robust watchtower and, just visible through a few streets, a wide square with an elegant fountain at the heart. Further towards the center was a small basilica, the white, egg-shaped dome clearly visible above the rooftops, shining with gold leaf. The hilly Angelian landscape offered a magnificent, though slightly foggy view of Carmen, sworn to Angelis, and one pair of sulphur-yellow eyes beheld it with particular eagerness.
"Civilization! Human, Angelian civilization!"
A sky-blue pair dryly glanced to the side. "Don't even think it. Stay here."
"But Lord," Jinx uttered. "Just look at it." She gestured at the watchtower, crested by a golden yellow flag. Above the dark green bat emblazoned on it was a clenched fist, and the tower itself was manned by dwarven guards. "That would look much better under a blue banner, don't you think?"
"Everything would look better under the blue banner," Estell admitted. A slight smile crossed his face.
Ramah Sen'akhar stepped in beside them. "This is a Heartland city?" He didn't sound very impressed. "This is nothing compared to the glories of Ruboria."
Jinx snorted. "Malka was rather more gracious about my land when he visited here, prince."
Estell's eyes remained on the village. "When the north is brought under my rule," Jinx slightly tensed her claws, "I could make one of your heirs the steward of Angelis, Ramah. How does that sound? Then we can add as much Ruborian glory to the Heartland as we want." His eyes slightly glowed, even in the brightening daylight, as he turned to Ramah. "Seeing as your vows to Senef ab Safinah still stand – as soon as we return to Kerma and properly crown you, I assume your marriage will take place soon after…"
The dark prince briefly appeared to turn even darker, and he rubbed his neck. "Well… about that…"
Jinx stepped forward between them, accompanied by a few enthusiastic Minions with drawn weapons. "The point is, we have to get that disgusting yellow flag off that tower. There'll be a Deb Nar in Angelis, yellow and green are their colours. Maybe there's a talkative dwarf in that tower who can tell us more about the situation up there, and if not I'll get one to talk anyway."
Estell didn't speak a word, but simply let the amber gem flash to bring the Minions to a standstill and then stepped forward himself to grab Jinx by the collar. "No, we won't, as the news of your survival would reach Angelis and the Netherworld within the week. Don't you want to go home?"
Something vulnerable briefly shone in her yellow eyes. She glanced at the village beneath them, then back to him.
Estell let go of her. "Everything hinges on the element of surprise we hold now. If anyone knew we had you –"
She turned away. "I understand."
As the group moved to the east, Jinx briefly glanced at Shadow. You understand how I feel. Invisible. Oh, how I want to surprise Carmen… or end them, if they refuse to join me. But there'll be time for that later. "Say, Estell, you do know we're going to have to show our faces here and there in Angelis, right?"
"As you've told me. Not that I'm happy about it, but I'm giving it a chance." His eyes were still glowing, and Jinx was struck – not for the first time – by just how much he resembled his father. The Minions followed him closely, and some of them almost danced downhill. Croak, the newest blue, searched the misty distance for the next swamp with narrowed eyes behind his spectacles. This part of the Heartland was hilly, but all the lower land was soggy, and teeming with boombo birds and giant toads. If the fearfully curious Minion couldn't unleash his hunger for knowledge on the town, nature would serve just as well.
They were forced to take this route, instead of the hard roads or even the primitive paths Jinx had described – though the infrastructure had notably improved since the dwarves had taken over her domain, and it'd become hard to avoid all attention even at night and the early morning.
Fortunately they encountered something that might help with that before their arrival in Angelis, as it crossed their path through the blooming swamps; a group of dwarves, spread out across the valley hunting the equally scattered boombo birds that made it home to their colonial nest. They wore the muted colours of Deb Nar, and Estell presumed the boombo hunt fell under the activities of the farmer clan here.
One by one the dwarves met their end and disappeared into the swamp, where the alert birds soon disposed of their bodies. Not before they'd been stripped of their clothes, however.
Estell hadn't necessarily wanted to kill them, but missing boombo hunters were more easily explained than five dominated nudists in the swamp. Jinx could have her way here, and that softened her irritation about the fact she'd have to wear shoes for the first time in years. Fortunately the dwarves had worn large boots; her foot claws weren't easily hidden, and neither were those of the four browns.
Kniff was able to laugh about it. "Said bare feet were bad idea yourself," he prodded her with a spiny elbow, before that too disappeared under dwarven clothing. "Every sword can reach toes, you said about Imperial sandals."
"I didn't know what I had, I took my free toes for granted," she growled, hoisting up her boots, narrowed eyes on Estell. "That and everything else." She swept her new, dark green cloak around herself and raised the hood. Her pointy ears were hidden, but her eyes still glowed in the shadow.
Estell gave her a critical look. "Hmm. Maybe we should bind your eyes, pretend you're blind?"
"Don't start," Jinx hissed. "I'll keep my head down. There's enough hooded beggars and pious monks in Angelis, we'll fit right in."
Once inside the city, the reds would mainly move over the rooftops – Char and her little horde couldn't hide their fire under clothing, but fortunately they were exceptionally swift and agile. The greens and blues could move completely unseen. The browns and Jinx would have to pass for young monks – novices.
Estell, Talmar and Arandor hid their pointy ears under their hoods as well. Ramah simply hoped he wouldn't stand out too much as a Ruborian in this northern land his people had little to do with.
The Heartland, only a few days' travel away from Angelis. Jinx was endlessly frustrated she had to obey Estell here – on her southern journey just after the fall of the Netherworld, two years ago, she'd met people here that'd aided her and helped her escape the dwarves, even if they'd believed she was Gnarl. And now this, instead of the fiery return she yearned for…
It was so tempting to try and make a grab for power, especially here. She liked Estell – his attitude towards her was always polite and pleasant. As long as she obeyed him. But she simply couldn't live that way.
No matter how friendly he was, no matter how much she might like him, with every new display of his power her original plan burned brighter in the back of her mind; to kill him, to take up the mantle herself again, to be a sole ruler. With Ructa's death, there was one fewer to protect him…
But a few feet ahead Kniff grinned down at Shadow, a blue-eyed shade flat at Estell's feet, practicing to imitate an actual shadow again. Kniff believed the former Overlady and the current Overlord could cooperate, and it'd be better for everyone if they succeeded in doing so. The Minion grew closer to Shadow with every passing day. And whatever Jinx did, she would never intentionally hurt Kniff.
She only hoped Shadow took his bond with Kniff seriously enough to not want to dominate her if Estell was out for the ultimate display of power.
"Did you know Angelis was founded as an Overlady's bastion, Lord? Angelica, daughter of Lady Hydria, built it on the ruins of the castle of her mother and brother Gabrial after the battle against him and his hordes." Jinx' eyes gleamed, focused on something in the distance. "After the fight she'd lost almost all her troops, but she broke with the survivors to take up her brother's dark mantle, and the Minions…"
"The Minions followed her." Estell smiled. "I know the story."
"My city of birth." Jinx breathed in deeply, the scent of reed and swamp, but now also with a whiff of smoke, filth, food… and people. More people than the group had seen in one place in a long time.
Before them was Angelis, a sprawling mass of streets, alleyways and plazas, pointed rooftops, watchtowers, arched gateways and robust, crenellated walls, rising up along three great, increasingly steep hills to the highest point, the only place still illuminated by the setting sun; the domed Citadel, its stained glass windows glowing red with the reflection.
"My mother's seat, and mine by right," Jinx spoke.
"Hmm. Lady Velvet was never actually married to Sir William, was she? And William wasn't your father." Estell's eyes rippled in a brief smile. "You're only called 'Angelica' because the Empire bastardized 'of Angelis' back in the day. Quite a few surnames hail from those days."
The Minion Mistress narrowed her eyes. "Don't get technical now, Sire." She shrugged. "Plus, Gabrial had quite a few wives, and Angelica took quite a few men as her consorts. Who knows whether I or whoever else are related to them or not?"
The group approached the city gates, amidst a large mass of other late travellers and farmhands returning to Angelis. Then, as the sky darkened further, fires suddenly flared around the Citadel, gold and pale green. Jinx grumbled. "Deb Nar. I can't stand it." The light gleamed on the metal docking towers for dwarven airships, tall disfiguring irregularities on Angelis' stately skyline. "Those dwarves have to go, and soon."
"Patience, Milady." Estell halted, looking up at the gates. Angelis was still open to them; the watchtowers were manned both by Angelians and dwarves. The Overlord studied the engraved designs above the gate; complex interlocking symbols, and a stylized bat spreading its wings right above the passage. I hope my sigil someday graces a city gate, until years after my fall. If I ever fall, that is.
Then his eye was caught by the dwarf in the western watchtower; cloaked, with one robust hand clutching an engraved staff topped by a gleaming circle. He held his breath. "Jinx."
"What is it?" She looked up. Her breath faltered as well.
"I've never seen one before. Is that what I think it is?"
She bared her teeth, eyes flaring brighter under her dark hood. "Sentinel," she growled.
Around them, half of the horde was invisible. The reds had been sent off earlier to climb over the city wall and hurry to a designated meeting spot across the rooftops. The wolves and spiders had been sent back to Evernight even before that – there was no place for them in Angelis, unfortunately. Only Issay, the small green-eyed male, still rested on Estell's cloaked shoulder, but now lowered himself slightly behind the elf's back, clearly nervous. He'd adjusted his colour to the dark blue of Estell's cloak by now, and barely stood out save for his large eyes. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the rest of the group.
"All of us are magical," Arandor hissed. "Well, all but Ramah."
"I was a good pretext as a slave master in Stodir, not here," Ramah hurried to say.
Estell smiled back at him. "No worries. I won't be hiding behind you again." He stepped forward, along with all the others on the main road.
Then the Sentinel in the watchtower stiffened, and the group felt a strange pressure sliding over them. Jinx shivered. "No pain, but… ugh, I hoped I was done with this. Why are they here? Magic's been accepted in the Heartland, I made sure of that long ago."
Estell kept walking, and the group followed closely. They stepped through the gate – and the first to greet them in Angelis was another, human guard, in characteristic red and silver, to halt them. "Stop right there, travellers."
Estell met his gaze. "Good evening."
"Our Sentinel sees a great gathering of magic with you. I have to ask you to come along to the Citadel."
The Overlord coolly beheld the guard. Then something black flashed up to his wrist, and further up along with his wrist, to the man's face. Dark fingers clawed into place around his cheeks and forehead.
No magic here. Your Sentinel is mistaken.
The black hand relaxed, then dissolved into nothing. The guard's eyes focused on Estell again. Then he bowed curtly. "My apologies, lord. As you were."
Estell nodded back with a polite smile. As he walked on, his glowing gaze shot down, to the darkness beneath his feet. He grinned. "That went well."
"We keep getting faster," his counterpart beamed.
"I'll need your help again. That Sentinel knows what he saw."
"Of course."
"Bring him to us tonight."
"Piece of cake." Something black shot away across the cobblestones, and left his shadow slightly lighter.
Jinx walked on by Estell's side, staring ahead. "Good move."
"Those Sentinels came over from the Empire," the elf spoke. "Emperor Sayron never fully eradicated his predecessor's antimagic, but always kept some for his own. Sardok brought it back, but exclusively for the dwarves. As magic's been accepted into society, these Sentinels are only equipped to perceive magic, not to destroy it. Angelis is careful, especially now there's an Overlord again – even though they don't expect to encounter him this far north."
Jinx' eyes widened. "You gathered all that from two seconds of domination?"
Estell smiled, without taking his tense gaze from the streets ahead. "It's a talent." He was shamelessly proud of himself and Shadow – they were so much faster and more observant than that night on Maesmaer as they'd discovered their gift.
The city immediately swallowed them. For Estell, Angelis was an incomprehensible maze of darkened streets, lit by lanterns casting more flickering shadows than light. He was thankful for Jinx taking the lead – this was her city, she knew the way. Their goal was a place the Minion Mistress had visited often, where Estell hoped the people would still know her and welcome her as readily as Jinx claimed they would. Minions and all, she'd even promised. And indeed, the Minions they had with them – the disguised browns, and the invisible greens and blues – giggled and whispered amongst themselves more and more, excited and glad to be here.
Even late in the evening, the streets were still busy, and most houses were still lit as well. Estell looked around in bafflement. "Don't these people sleep?"
Jinx laughed. "Country boy. This is the Heartland's capital. There's always enough to do – and if not, you go to the pub and make some problems."
The Overlord cast her a sideways glance. "Like we're going to do?"
"This one gets it."
Their course led them to Angelis' eastern quarter, where the shadows fell deepest. After a brief descent the streets started leading up again, in a series of short flights of stairs flanked by tall buildings with pointed facades. Then Estell looked up, and saw a rising moon behind the tallest facade of all. Faint music wafted towards him.
The entrance to the building was crowned by a lead-grey bust of a voluptuous woman, flanked by huge windows, the one beautiful stained glass and the other boarded shut. A splintered sign told the group they'd arrived at the Halfway to Heaven inn.
Jinx' entire face brightened. "Finally!" She hurried forward, up the last flight of stairs, and into the tavern. Estell kept up with her with his longer strides, and blinked as the smoky, noisy atmosphere in the pub wafted over him, full of flickering candle flames and crimson velvet. The music drowned out his thoughts, and loud conversation and laughter whirled around him. Staggering people bumped into him. The walls were alive with huge paintings showing quite a bit of naked flesh. All around, giggly young women draped themselves against tipsy and drunk men, and Estell understood where they'd ended up – Halfway to Heaven wasn't just a tavern. The cloaked Overlord had rarely felt this misplaced, and once again realized how far from Kadath he was. He'd never been this homesick for his domain, especially now his 'homecoming' in Nosyar had gone rather differently than expected.
Jinx had immediately moved to the bar. The willowy young woman behind it now looked down at her with raised eyebrows – and then Estell saw her expression shift, mild surprise making way for shocked bafflement and slight panic as Jinx was, for the first time since her return, recognized by someone outside of his own little dark circle. He could see the Minion Mistress bouncing on her feet, and Kniff sprinted past him, cloak fluttering, to join the conversation by his Mistress' side.
Estell stepped forward, Talmar, Arandor and Ramah close by.
"…expected you to change the name back, but that won't be necessary for long, I assure you."
"Mistress, what a surprise – we had no idea –" The woman quickly looked around, then lowered her voice. Fortunately, most people around them were far too drunk to value her words. "Milady, why only now?"
Estell reached them, and was seen. He inclined his head. "Good evening."
Jinx looked up at him. "…Lailah, this is Lord Estell Greenhaze. Sire; Lailah."
The woman met his glowing gaze, and a blush immediately touched her heart-shaped face. "S-Sire? But –"
Estell smiled slightly, realizing the effect he apparently had on her. "I'm the new Overlord. My pleasure."
"So… Lady Jinx is no longer the Overlady."
"Jinx fell," Estell spoke. "I rose, with her help. And with her help I plan to reclaim the Netherworld." The Minions quietly, but elatedly chittered among themselves. "We travel north, and would like to spend a few nights here. Jinx told me the tavern is to be trusted."
Lailah nodded quickly. "Of course. Milady –" her eyes shot down to Jinx, "– madame Hydria will be pleased to see you're alive. She'll look forward to changing the name back."
Estell raised his eyebrows. "Madame Hydria?"
Jinx grimaced. "Aw, no round of drinks for us and the horde, first? Free of charge for Minions and their Mistress, like the good old days?"
"Follow me," Lailah tactically spoke, leading them to an engraved flight of winding stairs to the tavern's upper floors. "She'll want to see you immediately."
The tavern's noises grew muffled and quiet as they climbed, all the laughter, music and slurred speech dying away. Now there was no more danger of discovery, the greens and blues turned visible, and Estell gave the reds a quiet sign through the amber gem. Not much later Char and her young horde climbed in through a cracked window, and brought some warm light to the sudden gloom.
The fiery atmosphere downstairs had given way to deep shadows and a measured sort of calm; the hallway where they'd ended up now was still very spacious, with a tall, darkened and artfully decorated ceiling, but the paintings showed a lot less skin, and the figures depicted stared down sharply. The walls also sported quite a few bare spots where more paintings and decorations had probably once been displayed.
Jinx looked around. "Those Deb Nar aren't treating you too well."
"The madame isn't very happy with them." Lailah halted at a tall door, knocking politely. "Madame?"
"Enter," someone spoke, as sharp and measured as the atmosphere around them.
Estell stepped forward and opened the door. Briefly his eyes adjusted to the new light of countless candles, but then his gaze focused on a luxurious desk and the tall woman behind it, studying him as intently as he peered at her. She briefly raised an eyebrow as she noticed Issay on his shoulder, but didn't move a muscle otherwise. He smiled. He sensed a congenial spirit, though she didn't seem too happy to see him.
Madame Hydria was modestly dressed, wearing a dark gown with an elegant collar, her lightly silvered hair falling down over it in ringlets. Her dark eyes cut through Estell, but slightly widened as Jinx entered the room behind him. "Good evening, madame."
Hydria nodded, disarmed for a moment. "And you, Milady. I wasn't expecting you."
Jinx grinned. "It's good to be back."
Lailah joined Hydria's side. "Madame, this is Lord Estell, Lady Jinx' successor."
Hydria cocked her head. "I wasn't aware of the possibility to succeed a living Overlord."
Estell offered her a smile. "Someone had to be the first. In my defence, Jinx' death was very convincing at the time of my succession."
"On that, we agree, Sire."
"We travel to the Netherworld," Jinx sharply changed the subject. "However, we plan on staying in Angelis for a few days. Can we count on your hospitality?"
Hydria met her eyes, glowing in the candlelight. Her expression slightly softened. "Overlords and their followers shall always be welcome at the Halfway to Hell tavern. You have my protection."
Jinx' entire face brightened. "That is very good to hear, madame. I'll do whatever it takes to get that name back on the sign, and everything that ought to come with it."
"Hm." Hydria rose. "The dwarves brew our beer now, and cultivate our food; everything moves through Hammer Ingan Deb Nar. The majority of our… activities has been banned, so we lost quite a few patrons. And without the horde I've had to trust the Angelian underworld for our protection. Money does not grow on trees." A thin smile crossed her face. "I'm very glad to hear these days are ending."
"Halfway to Hell?" Estell remarked. "That's not exactly an inviting name for… this sort of establishment." He saw Lailah's grin, and Hydria turned to him wearing a slightly wider smile.
"My Lord, this is Angelis. We're all filthy sinners here."
"And Ingan Deb Nar could never change that," Jinx laughed.
Lailah escorted them to their rooms. On the way Estell noticed a lot of suspicious, rhythmical sounds from behind the other doors on the floor above the tavern, but the girl was tactful enough to bring them to a more quiet part of the property. Once there, she turned around and looked up at the Overlord. "Would you like some company tonight, my Lord? I could send up a few girls."
Estell widened his eyes. "Oh – no, thank you. That won't be necessary."
She smiled, a hint of a blush on her face, and hurried away with a brief bow. A few Minions were disappointed to see her leave, but Jinx ushered them into their rooms with an amused grin. The browns, reds and blues would share a chamber with her, while the greens were strategically provided with their own, smaller room; the others agreed with camping near them in the open air, but in a closed space matters were different.
Ramah threw himself backwards onto his creaky bed. "Aah, about time after all those weeks outside."
"Months," Arandor corrected him with a faint smile, hunched over on his own bed. The shapeshifter was far from alright after Ructa's death, but Ramah thought to himself it was a good thing the elf no longer spent all this time in bird form, at least. He was letting the others back in.
The same couldn't be said for Talmar. The black-haired elf had already isolated himself again, frowning up at the ceiling. The Ruborian grimaced. He was probably worried about the elves Estell had imprisoned in Kadath's dungeons; the one time he'd managed to get Talmar to speak to him, the elf had made clear he was still very much bothered by it. But he still hadn't followed Ramah's advice to at least talk to Estell about it.
As the group got ready for the night, both Estell and Jinx kept their doors open. Eventually, however, the Overlord stepped outside still fully clothed and armoured. "I'm heading downstairs," he announced. "Shadow still isn't back; I don't want him to get into trouble when he arrives here."
Jinx was the first to react. "I'm coming with you." She flung her cloak around her shoulders again.
Estell raised an eyebrow, and the Minion Mistress had to admit to herself she didn't really know why she was doing this. "…You never know what sort of idiots you'll run into in the tavern. You need someone who knows the city." This was Angelis, after all.
"Hmm." The Overlord looked up as someone else joined them; Kniff, still in full disguise as well.
"Also want to wait for Shadow, Master."
Master. That was a pleasant change. Estell remembered how fierce and unwilling the brown horde leader had been at their first meeting on Stodir's fields – he'd rather have died than serving him for more than a day. "Very well, then. Come along."
Despite the hour – nearing midnight – the tavern was barely any less crowded than at their arrival. Estell pondered claiming a table, but decided he'd stand out too much; he didn't plan on drinking, taking a girl into his lap or taking part in the drunken songs filling the smoky space. He walked on.
Jinx hurried to keep up. "No fun for us?"
"Maybe later." He stepped out of the tavern, into the cool night air, and took a deep breath. "Ah, much better."
Jinx grinned foully. "Elf lord."
He sat down on the stairs leading down to the rest of the city, and looked up at the dark sky. "I admit I felt better in Evernight. There's no stars here."
Her grin froze. One would almost forget you threatened to fully dominate me in Evernight. And you did actually claim Kniff for your own.
She looked out over the city. From here, the top of a lower hill, she could see the highest point rise up in the west, the illuminated Citadel shining green and gold atop it. Lower on the same hill was the pale cathedral of the Silent Order, somewhat separated from the rest of the city, lit more subtly in a soft golden glow. She grimaced; she knew what that meant, too. They'd have used red before. Let's hope this visit won't be completely in vain. She pulled her cloak around herself more tightly, but then suddenly felt a deep disgust for the garment, and her tight shoes, and the dwarven occupation of her city, and the Overlord next to her, traveling north to her, her Netherworld –
She only realized she was trembling with rage as Kniff's leathery hand touched hers. She looked up, and saw the fires of the Netherworld flickering in his sulphur eyes. She stiffened, and blinked a sudden haziness from her eyes.
…What good is the position. I still have you.
Maybe it's better if he takes over. After all, I failed rather spectacularly.
…But twenty years ago I didn't trust his father with the throne, either.
Doubt was still clear in her face as Kniff suddenly looked up, a moment after Estell had sprung to his feet. "Shadow!"
Glowing blue eyes in the night, under a hood embroidered with complex patterns. The Sentinel's staff tapped the stairs as Shadow climbed up to them. "Good evening," he spoke, grinning. "Apologies, it took me longer than expected to get away."
Estell grasped the broad dwarven shoulders, relief clear in his eyes. "Did you get into trouble?"
Shadow shook his head. "No, no. The light in the watchtower and the city guard's torches suppressed the glow of my eyes, and Sentinels don't talk much. They wanted to send me up to the Citadel to report back, but I managed to sneak away." He pulled the hood off his balding head. "Osken, here, didn't realize exactly what he was seeing as his eye fell to us, but when I entered his mind… well, let's say we'll have to dominate him for his own good." He grimaced. "Oof, he doesn't like that very much."
"They never do." Estell looked back at the tavern. "Come on, there's an alleyway over there. Let's not draw attention to ourselves."
Jinx and Kniff followed. The Minion Mistress folded her hands behind her back, but curved her claws where Estell couldn't see. "Not even killing this one, hm?"
Estell's mouth twisted in slight annoyance. "Not my style. He could be useful to us. I don't think madame Hydria would like having to hide a body already, either."
"Do you know what they're capable of? Two of them stole my purple magic. It wasn't… pleasant."
Shadow turned around. "In his mind, I'm reading none of the Sentinels in the city have that ability. Just the sight. Though I hear more powerful ones are stationed at the Citadel, for the Hammer's protection." He glanced at the staff in his hand. "That's also where they're equipped, apparently."
Jinx narrowed her eyes. The staff was made of dark, engraved wood. On top of it was a metal circle containing a large lens, gleaming and iridescent, but thin enough to still be translucent. She knew this kind of lens was used by Sentinels to see magic. She knew the material had been fixed directly onto the eyes of Sentinels back in the Empire, resulting in strange effects to their faces and bodies – that was the reason Sentinels were traditionally cloaked and hooded, even now.
And she knew the origins of that strange, iridescent material. She knew exactly where it came from.
The Citadel, apparently.
Let's keep this information to myself for now.
"Jinx?"
She looked up. Estell and Kniff were holding Shadow's dwarven shoulders, looking back at her. "Are you helping?"
She smiled thinly. "Of course." She joined them, watching as a black mist ascended above the dark cloak. Shadow opened his eyes, and Osken the dwarf started struggling. Before he could open his mouth, Jinx clasped a claw over it.
"Careful," Estell remarked, the shadow hand already on his wrist. "Those wounds would be hard to explain."
Jinx reluctantly relaxed her grip somewhat. A heartbeat later Estell's black hand was around the dwarf's neck – just below her own hand, far too close to it to Jinx' liking – and she yanked her arm back as Osken's eyes rolled away. She shivered. "That was quick."
"We get faster every time." Shadow peered into Osken's face. "Hello."
"Greetings, Master." The dwarf bowed. "How may I be of service?"
Estell smiled, satisfied. "That's what I want to hear." He folded his hands behind his back. "Osken, tell me. Are there Sentinels at the cathedral of the Silent Order?"
Jinx blinked. Ah. Good thinking. I'd simply have avoided them or taken them out as I arrived, but thinking ahead is also an option.
The dwarf shook his head, however. "No, my Lord. We only guard the Citadel and the homes of dwarven nobility. The Silent Order is partly magical itself, and they are not interested in the magical gifts of their visitors."
The Minion Mistress grinned. "That, at least, is still as it should be."
Osken turned to face her, seemingly realizing she was there for the first time. "Master?" he hesitantly inquired.
"This is the Minion Mistress, Osken. You will not speak a word of her presence in Angelis, not to your fellows, not to your commanders, not to your family." Estell's voice took on a sudden urgency, very different from his slightly smug satisfaction so far. "Oh, and speaking of your fellow Sentinels. Bring as many as you can to the Halfway to Heaven inn tomorrow night. I want to make their acquaintance."
Osken took a deep bow. "Of course, my Lord!"
"Good man. Now, head home. You've earned a good night's rest."
"Thank you, my Lord. Until tomorrow, my Lord."
As the dwarf vanished into the dark streets, Jinx turned to Estell. "You want to create your own little Sentinel army?"
The elf shrugged. "Take what you can, isn't that so? You taught me that."
Jinx opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it and walked back to the tavern, shoulders tense. Estell followed close behind.
A little ways behind them, Kniff and Shadow also followed, side by side. Both cast worried glances at the other two. "Well," Shadow begun in a low voice, "in any case we can make sure things don't get out of hand. I know Estell doesn't want to harm you…"
"…and I know Jinxie won't hurt you, not through Master either," Kniff added. "And we trust each other."
"They can't hit each other where it'll hurt the most."
"Is a start."
"It is a start," Shadow agreed, "and it's a good thing we have that at least, this close to the Netherworld. Time's running out."
Minions in the streets, more than he'd ever seen in one place, armoured and armed to the teeth. A cacophony of war cries, the clash of metal, screams of fear and pain, bestial roars. Flashes of light in the sky, the thunder of collapsing architecture –
Estell turned this way and that, staring around in bafflement. Next to him a purple flash struck a smooth dark wall, and he ran along with Minions and people to escape the wreckage.
This was not Angelis.
Where was he?
He looked up. Between clouds of acrid smoke a dark shade flashed past the steely grey sky. Then another, and another.
"To me! To me, my mighty dragon slayers!" Wild laughter resounded between the thunder of the collapse, and Estell turned, eyes shielded from the dust –
– to see long white hair streaming on the wind.
Minions swarmed to him, that proud, tall figure in his razor-sharp, dark armour and horned helmet. For the briefest moment, Estell thought he was seeing himself.
Typical Overlord arrogance. Yes, we can work with you, Estell Greenhaze.
The man turned around, a wild smile on his face and purple lightning in his gauntleted hand. His eyes were the same deep shade of purple, his face sharp and cruel, and clearly not elven, despite that long silver-pale hair. And Estell knew who he was looking at.
Vergal Drazul Garghan, the Darklord. My first and most terrible. The Red Maw of Destruction, though his own magic was purple…
Before Estell's eyes Vergal shot out of the way with superhuman speed, a heartbeat before an obsidian statue, torn loose from up above, smashed to shards where he'd been standing. An ice-white form Estell now recognized as a dragon – an actual, live dragon, at least five times Ravea's size – soared just over the rooftops, leaving a trail of splintered destruction. Then Vergal stepped from the dust cloud, and Estell just saw him fold ragged black crow's wings.
…and a notorious shapeshifter. Nothing was ever as it seemed with him. Does he remind you of anyone, Estell?
The elf blinked. "Yes," he uttered. "Yes, he does."
Do you have any idea where you're going, boy?
Estell clenched his jaws. He was done being lectured by the deep, dark presence. A smile curled his lips. "The throne."
Laughter echoed through his mind. Bravo, Lord Greenhaze. Life has to have purpose, and that answer will always be correct.(KADATH)
Morning, though sunlight never reached this place.
"Do you have any idea where we're going?" The elven boy gripped the bars and smiled.
"Turuva. It's not as if we have a choice."
"You knew what we were joining, Tyel!" Thorny vines stretched between the hanging cage and the rough stone walls of Kadath's greatest dungeon. Turuva stared at her brother, balancing high above the ground to look him in the eye. "You knew Estell was the Overlord! Please, just ask for his forgiveness." Her painted hand clutched one of the stalks keeping her in the air. "We found each other again thanks to him. Without him you'd still be in Stodir and I'd still be in the Pit of Maesmaer. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"I can see elves mean less and less to him." Tyel looked away. "I could somewhat understand the way he turned his back on the moonlit throne, but the souls…"
Turuva flinched. She had to admit the deaths of the immortals would haunt her for a long time, too. An elf killing elves – it had been a great shock when Miruvor had killed Isil, the young plant singer from Estell's old Sanctuary. Even the way in which Talmar had then executed Miruvor, however necessary, still bothered most elves. But the murder of so many immortals, and by the former prince of light, no less…
But despite her principles she knew this was a part of their new life, the life Estell's followers knew their Overlord had chosen for them as well. They were no longer light elves, and she herself had lived with that knowledge for a while. She also knew she was far from the only one in that. Turuva straightened out. "He does what he has to do. We're strong because of that."
"Jinx is getting stronger because of that." Tyel turned away from her in the cage. Beneath him came weak approval from a few other cages.
"Well said."
"This hasn't been Estell's quest for a long time."
"What's that? This was never his quest, the Overlady was at the helm from the start."
Turuva narrowed her masked eyes. "If that's the way you see it…" She was aware of the captured Minions, housed in cells on ground level, reacting to the elves' words with a fury and indignation mirroring her own. She wondered what Estell would do to them. They had killed elves, after all. The Overlord gave everyone what they deserved.
Her brother didn't turn back to face her. "I'd rather die than serve this domain any longer."
"So be it." She managed to keep her voice surprisingly stable. "I'll think of you as we rule the world, Tyel." She dropped down.
"…Farewell, Turuva."
She didn't react, but left the dungeons with her head held high. Outside, back in the more spacious halls of Kadath's palace, the light of lanterns and garlands of glowberries fell on her painted face again. The elf wore a green Zola mask, a token of an advanced state of their rites. She wasn't the only one following in Estell's footsteps this way. As a former worker in the Pit of Maesmaer she'd been close to the Zola for a long time, and after her rescue by one of their most respected warriors she'd strived to add one of their blue, living weapons to her own plant-based gifts. She was almost ready to travel to Atua's gift from Katoa and be touched by the moon goddess.
A familiar, dear Zola warrior awaited her outside; muscular, crowned with feathers, his hair bound back with brightly coloured beads and painted with the striking orange markings of a seasoned warrior. However, there was a careful concern in Tuai's eyes that didn't match his intimidating appearance. "How did it go?"
"This was my last visit to the dungeons." Turuva cursed herself; she couldn't prevent her voice from breaking, and her eyes started burning. "He'll never listen."
Tuai wrapped his arm around her as they walked away. "Estell might grant him mercy."
She clenched her jaws. "The way he talks? Estell might dominate him. I don't even know if I'd be against it."
Morning, and higher up in the palace the walls rang with furious hammer blows. Kadath's forge had been enlarged to all sides, walls broken through, and now molten metal flowed through artfully formed channels towards countless anvils and baths where the Ruborian steel could be tempered. Giblet was used to the material's limited nature by now – it wasn't anywhere near as versatile and durable as the durium and rare arcanium he'd handled in Stodir, but he now knew exactly what he could and couldn't do, and his red-hot corner of the domain was now equipped with racks and racks of weapons and armour, from battle axes to serrated arrowheads, and from toothed helmets to breastplates emblazoned with Estell's moon-and-hand sigil. There were also pieces of armour bearing a bat and flame, but Giblet kept those from elven eyes. He'd only made them to practice with the steel, after all.
They weren't even battle-worthy. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.
The forge master just started shaping a spiked mace head as one of his young assistants halted before him, peering up with glowing eyes. Giblet stopped working and lifted up his visor. "What is?"
"Giblet," the youngster rasped. "Still have to go on? Have more weapons than Minions. Much more. Horde can't use all, not even if red, green and blue would also –"
Giblet grinned. "No worry," he spoke, patting the young Minion on the head from behind his work bench. "Master, Mistress and I know what we're doing."
Maraxus: Halfway to Hell… certainly an unusual choice for a name. Do I dare ask of evenings that occurred there during your reign, milday?
Jinx: Ah, let's just say the establishment gave in to all the customers' urges under my rule, not just the heavenly ones. After all, with an Overlady ruling the place, the word 'sin' starts to lose its meaning! Also, Halfway to Heaven isn't a name I'll condone in my city.
Maraxus: That Estell plans to create his own army of Sentinels must cause you some concern. If his ability to dominate others continues to grow stronger, armies that would rally at your return could find themselves with leaders who bow to Estell.
Jinx: It sure does. There's not much Sentinels can do to me after my purple magic was stolen, but if he decides he wants to discipline me with some good old fashioned torture and he manages to find Sentinels that can emit their cursed anti-magic light, well...
Maraxus: And on that sinister note we'll bid you farewell until next time.