Chapter 11: Persia
"Who would've thought Persia would be so beautiful." Beshte said as he took in the majestic landscape around them. Kion and the others couldn't help but nod as they gazed upon it. Bunga always imagined Persia as an inhospitable desert, but instead, he found himself treated to fertile countryside, green mountains, vibrant rivers, and vast grassy plains like seas of green.
The Persian civilization itself proved no less incredible. After a week of traversing deeper into Persia, Kion's expedition passed over a dozen settlements and even spotted a city in the distance. Even the smaller farming villages had very efficient and visually appealing architecture, while the city almost looked like a piece of artwork, or at least it had from a distance.
The Sonn, since their occupation, hadn't influenced the Persian culture, architecture, farming, and administration either due to an appreciation for its effectiveness or simply the fact that their occupation wasn't even a decade old.
"Ahura Mazda smiles upon us today, my Frankish companions!" A jubilant voice proclaimed. Kion glanced over at the Persian man beside him. Hadish looked younger than his thirty-five years let on, with brown skin complimenting a smooth black beard and groomed hair. He was slight in stature but not quite scrawny either, having the look of a traveler but not a warrior. But perhaps his most distinguishing feature was eyes that didn't match, one green and one brown.
Hadish arrived in Edessa before the expedition departed into Persia, acting as their guide and translator. Though most of the Templar officers spoke Persian with relative proficiency, Kion also began learning the language.
Together, he and the Persian looked over the ruins of a Sonn encampment. Over Three-hundred Templar Knight-brothers, mounted sergeants, and turcopoles scoured what remained of the tents, looking for supplies and freeing Persian captives.
Kion, Beshte, and Ono couldn't help but smile as they saw mothers and their children taken as slaves, now set free, giving thanks to their rescuers and Ahura Mazda. However, they weren't the only freed prisoners. In another part of the camp, Azaad, Fuli, and Anga eagerly cut loose Persian rebels captured by the Sonn and rearmed them.
Though smaller in stature than the Franks, these men looked no less fierce and eagerly accepted the weapons. A few of the freed rebels walked over to a dozen or so Sonn prisoners on their knees.
The surviving Sonn officer sneered in disdain at one of the rebels and spat at his face. The middle-aged Persian mand didn't react immediately, but then without warning, he knocked one of the Sonn's teeth out with a violent haymaker. The Templars paid no mind to this, but the other Persians, turcopoles, Bunga, Fuli, Anga, and Azaad all burst out laughing.
Once they'd taken everything of value, the Christians and Persians prepared to go their separate ways.
"You have our gratitude, Franks. May Ahura Mazda guide you to further conquest of evil." The Rebel captain said while gazing at the Sonn prisoners in his custody.
"Thank you, may Saint Michael watch over you and your warriors." Hadish took over for Kion and began speaking faster Persian. Kion couldn't understand this, but Kopa clearly could, and he nodded with approval.
"We're on the right track." He said.
Hadish almost sounded giddish and eagerly turned back to Kion.
"We're close! So very close!"
"Allons-y!" Bunga cried. The company continued down the road as the sun began to set. Since arriving in Persia, Kion and his forces were careful only to harass the Sonn occupation forces, hitting slave outposts, horse grazing, and camps like the one that day. Additionally, they helped any Persian rebels they came across, who, in turn, provided them with clues on Harisa's whereabouts.
That evening, the company made camp in a secure area near a mountainside. Kion sat with his Guard near a campfire as Hadish told them about the history of this region.
"And beyond this mountain is the field where the Aurevitas Emperor Trajan and his mighty legions smashed our ancestor's army under Shah Sanatruces, a sad day for Persia indeed." Fuli, Anga, Azaad, and Bunga gave disinterested looks as they finished off their supper and some wine. Ono and Beshte, by contrast, sat up and engaged Hadish in conversation.
"Tell us more about Cyrus the great!" Ono almost shouted. Kion saw a spark light up in the Persian's eyes, and he eagerly nodded.
"Gladly! The first Shah and champion of the Persian people-" Normally Kion would've enjoyed learning about such things, but Bunga noticed a distant look on the King's face as he stared at the fire.
"Kion, Kion are you alright?" The knight asked while shaking his shoulder.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, I just, I'm just thinking about the best way to negotiate with Hasira." Bunga and the others shook their heads, not buying it.
"Kion." Anga said in a somewhat forceful tone. He still didn't respond.
"I think you're dwelling on Rani and your child." Kion grit his teeth and almost wanted to hit Bunga, but in the end, he was right. Ever since he left Deiurbem, Rani and their baby lingered on his mind, but more so their fight. At the time, Kion had been so sure of himself and his reason for coming, but now-
"Kion, we get it. It's not easy being away from your wife." Fuli said. Bunga, Kion, and Anga all turned to Fuli with somewhat irritated looks.
"What?" Fuli asked innocently as she lay her head in Azaad's lap.
"Right." Bunga muttered.
"Did I make a mistake dragging us here instead of letting Kopa handle it?"
"Kion, you're a King. You can't afford to second guess yourself." Anga assured him.
"...But we're in the heart of the Sonn's Empire. What if something goes wrong and one of you ends up dying-"
"Kion! We're your Guard, and we've fought beside you for years. Dying is a risk we've taken more times than we can count!" Bunga half-laughed. Despite this encouragement, Kion kept his head low.
"Rani, if something happened to me, she'll be a widow, and my child fatherless... Kopa." Kion looked over at the Templar Grandmaster, who sat with his officers near another fire. Since the expedition began, Kopa remained distant from Kion, the usual warmth and fondness for his nephew vanishing into a cold militaristic discipline and focused on the mission. He'd barely even spoken to Kion more than necessary, and it weighed heavily on the young King's heart.
"Don't worry about it, Kion. Tomorrow we'll find Hasira, finish our mission, then head home." Bunga said reassuringly. Kion took another deep breath and clasped his hands together.
"Lord savior, watch over us, please, don't punish Rani and our child for my rashness."
Kion and his Guard rode down the plains towards a canyon the following day.
"There is it! I'm sure of it!" Hadish cried with giddish excitement.
Kion tried to relax himself and his racing heart when he noticed Azaad racing towards them with his scout Turcopoles.
"Sire, we reached the canyon and spotted Persian rebels inside."
"Ha! Ahura Mazda is good!" Hadish's enthusiasm nearly burst through him. However, Kion and the others saw the wariness in Azaad's expression.
"What's wrong?" Fuli asked.
"The rebels were under attack, a large force of Sonn led by an Emir."
"No!" Hadish's joy instantly vanished into a horrible dread.
"Do something, do something!" Hadish frantically reached for Kion, only for a Templar to restrain him. However, the Persian's pleas proved unnecessary, for the King wasted no time and summoned Kopa over.
"We need to move fast, send in the turcopoles as a screen to draw their attention and take pressure off the Persians." Kopa nodded.
"Oui, then we'll come in and sweep the center."
"Allons-y!" Bunga exclaimed, raising his lance.
"Let's go save the Shah!" He laughed.
"Turcopoles, on me!" Azaad roared before charging ahead with the mounted archers. Kion managed to calm himself as he came to the base of the canyon, channeling his focus on the task at hand. After what felt like an eternity, the sounds of battle became clearer, horses crying, men wailing in pain or shouting orders, and clanging metal.
At last, they came upon the skirmish where a few hundred Sonn mounted archers rode made mincemeat out of a similar number of Persian warriors, both footmen, and cavalry.
The rebels themselves appeared a mixed bag in terms of quality. Some wore armor and had proper gear, while others looked more like farmers and other peasants who'd risen up in revolt against the Sonn despite not being professional warriors. Many didn't wear armor or carry good weapons.
Unable to form up cohesively, these horsemen and infantry stood no chance against the disciplined Sonn squadrons, slashing with kilij swords and losing arrows from composite bows. However, luckily for the Persian rebels, Azaad and the Turcopoles came in.
"Loose!" The Christian mounted archers picked their targets and unleashed a somewhat organized volley of arrows, killing or wounding a few dozen Sonn. However, the bigger impact came when one of the Sonn squadrons broke off to face the new attackers. In doing so, one of the Persian light-cavalry officers quickly rallied almost a hundred or so other horsemen with surprising efficiency. Clearly, this was a man of keen leadership ability and proved it when he led his men against a smaller squadron of Sonn, making contact with them.
"That's my husband!" Fuli laughed with Bunga and the others. Even Kion couldn't help but watch in excitement at the cascading effect of Azaad's intervention. The reformed Persian cavalry's counterattack freed up Persian bowmen and javelin throwers, who in turn began downing Sonn, leading to infantry forming ranks and attacking.
"Ha! Feel the might of Persian warriors, Sonn dogs!" Hadish bellowed out.
"Kion." Kopa's steel voice snapped the King out of his daze, and he realized what the Templar saw. The Sonn's Emir revealed himself, his banner flapping hard in the wind. It didn't take long for the nobleman to stabilize his disintegrating position, reforming his squadrons and pushing back.
"Alright, this is it! Form ranks and charge!" The Knights and mounted sergeants did just that, and once in a conroi, Kion exhaled.
"Gloire à Dieu!"
At that, the Knights charged into the canyon below, lances lowered while the wind blew through the breathing holes in their great helms. Whatever progress the Emir made by his arrival was swiftly undone by the chivalric charge, which all but enveloped an entire squadron of Sonn horse-archers.
"Move in!" Azaad led his turcopoles in a direct charge on a wavering Sonn formation while the Persians came from another direction. Kion furiously cut his way through the lightly armored horsemen with brutal efficiency, with Bunga and Beshte backing him up.
"Continuez, braves chevaliers!" Beshte huffed as he cut a Sonn in half with his sword.
"Dieu ait pitié! Look!" Ono cried. Kion, Beshte, Ono, Kopa, and many other Templars heard a horn blast followed by the charge of a few dozen cataphracts. Unlike Aurevitas or Perdidit cataphracts, these men wore bronze-colored scale armor instead of mail and lamellar but looked no less formidable.
At the head rode a bannerman carrying a violet standard with a golden flower in the center that almost looked like the sun.
"It can't be! It can't be!" Hadish trembled like a child. Kion himself watched as these cataphracts drew bows like turcopoles. Then, his mouth dropped when he saw them leap up and stand on their saddles even when in full armor, then unleash a volley more accurate than even their turcopoles.
Each arrow claimed at least one Sonn and scattered the others. At last, the cataphracts made contact and butchered the Sonn with no less skill and effectiveness as Christian knights.
The Cataphract captain himself slew the Sonn emir and seized his standard, indicating their victory. Within minutes they utterly destroyed the Sonn company, all of its men killed, scattered, or captured. From there, the looting began, and Persian rebels scoured their dead adversaries like vultures.
The Templars restrained themselves, but Azaad's turcopoles had more difficulty.
"Mind yourselves, men. We're here to make friends of the Persians." He growled. Slowly but surely, Kion and the others approached the cataphracts with a trembling Hadish beside them.
The Persian guide almost hyperventilated, his teeth chattering.
"You can do this. You can do this." He said to himself.
"Prince Hasira!" Kion cried out in Persian. Dozens of eyes turned on Kion, including all of the cataphracts'. As Ono came closer, he noticed at least three of the Persian cataphracts wore eastern orthodox-style crucifixes around their necks, indicating them as Christians.
He knew that Zoroastrianism was the main religion of the Persians, but over the centuries, various Shahs showed a growing tolerance for Christians and Christian missionaries in their empire. However, progress slowed when the Sonn first invaded Persia and Aurevitas before the First Crusade, leaving the Christian population in Persia a relatively small minority.
The cataphract captain slowly removed his helmet, revealing himself to the Christians. He looked roughly Kion's age, and like the Frankish King, he also bore a scar on his face, though near his nose rather than his eye.
He had a handsome complexion with a strong jaw, emerald green eyes, and thick-black hair with a well-groomed beard. Both men stared at each other in uncomfortable silence before Hadish staggered to his knees before the captain.
"Your highness! I am honored, no, privileged to be before you! Ahura Mazda blesses us with your safety-"
"The King of the Franks comes before me at last." Kion felt the heat and distrust in Hasira's voice earning narrowed eyes from the Lion Guard and many Templars. Kopa remained calm and collected, even as the Persians looked upon him with distrust.
"Yes, your highness, this is King Kion of the Franks. I've helped him find you because-"
"Because we need to talk-" Kion started.
"Enough! You speak Persian like a drunk stonemason!" Hasira groaned, earning intense laughter from his men.
"And you sound like a dying horse." Fuli retorted, earning snickers from the others. Hasira's eyes met Fuli's.
"I speak French."
Fuli didn't flinch.
"Good, it's a much better language."
"Enough." Kion growled before slowly approaching the Prince with a friendly gesture.
"Prince Hasira, I came here because it was time for us to finally meet. I want-"
"I know exactly what you want, Frank. You want to claim Persia for your own, just like your Franks claimed Outremer!"
"Hey! How about a thank you for saving your lives!" Bunga growled.
"Forgive them, your highness. They are barbarians. They do not understand-" Hadish started.
"Enough!" Hasira growled, shoving Hadish away. Kion took a deep breath and did his best to remain calm.
"Hasira, I understand you're wary of outsiders. But you know as well as I do that we've only ever wanted to safeguard Outremer. Ever since the First Crusade, we've never launched an invasion into Persia. I came here because I want what you want."
"And what is that?" Hasira muttered suspiciously.
"The Sonn out of Persia, you back on the throne." Hasira almost laughed.
"No, that's not what you want. You want your precious Kingdom and Holy Land safe from the Sonn monsters who've occupied Persia and persecuted her people for generations! You care not for our plight, but merely what we can do for you!"
"And how does you taking the throne not help us destroy the Sonn's base of power?" Kopa interjected, calm and collected. The Lion Guard smiled when they saw Hasira lost for words.
"Templar fanatic." Hasira growled.
"These fanatics kept you and your men alive. That's a fact."
"Filthy barbarian, you dare!" One of the cataphracts snarled before Hasira raised a hand to him and took a deep breath.
"Enough of this bickering. It's not befitting for princes, barbarian or not, you are a King, and I should afford you such respect." Hasira begrudgingly admitted, easing Kion slightly.
"Merci."
"That's right." Bunga said. Hasira ignored him and looked back at Kion.
"Why are you here, Frank?"
Kion stood tall, emphasizing his larger stature over the Persian Prince.
"Hasira, I assume you know what's happened in Aurevitas." Kion said with great pain. The three Christian cataphracts crossed themselves and held back painful emotions.
"Yes, quite horrific. The Aurevitas were our enemies for centuries, but they certainly didn't deserve that. Still, as I understand, one of their Princes intends to reclaim his capital."
"Yes, and he's taking most of Aurevitas's fighting men to do so, leaving Ananatolia vulnerable to attack." Hasira looked back at Kion with more suspicion.
"Why is that my concern?"
"Because of the Sonn conquer Aurevitas or even a large part of it, Radcliffe's power will grow exponentially. How many more Sonn tribes will join him and flood into Persia?" Kopa interjected again, earning an unsettled look from the Persians.
"So what do you want me to do, Frank? Attack with everyone I have now? Shed more Persian blood to keep him at bay here!?"
"No." Kion said, earning an interested look from Hasira.
"If Radcliffe moves on Aurevitas, I'll raise the army of Outremer to meet him. All I ask is that should this happen, you either come and join us or take advantage of his absence and try to reclaim your throne."
Hasira almost laughed.
"That's it!? Just risk my life and the lives of countless Persians hoping that you can defeat that Sonn demon!"
"No, on the hope that we can defeat him. Hasira, I swear before the Holy Spirit that I have no intention to take any part of Persia from you." Kion gestured to Kopa, who nodded and ordered one of his Templars forward.
Hasira looked a bit confused as he saw the Knight approach while carrying something covered by silk cloth. Finally, he handed it off to Kion, who removed the cloth to reveal a crown.
Hasira almost went pale, and the other Persians trembled. Kion had the crown cleaned and shined to look like new, and it glistened in the sunlight.
"Where did you get that!?" Hasira screamed with raw emotion.
"Radcliffe sent it to me on the day of my coronation. But it doesn't belong to me." Kion slowly placed the crown into Hasira's trembling hands. Pure sympathy filled the Lion Guard as they saw Hasira's face break down into sorrow and mourning for the man who'd worn the crown. Tears flowed down his face like a stream, falling onto the crown before he hugged it tightly.
"Thank you, for returning it to me."
All of the Persians around him teared up as well, but a sense of hope soon replaced their sorrow as Hasira stood tall. The Persian prince extended his hand to Kion, who eagerly shook it.
"When the time comes, we will rid both our Kingdoms of those Sonn devils, together!"
"Allons-y!" Bunga cried, and soon both sides echoed the cheer. Ono wanted to join in but soon grew wary, for he saw storm clouds in the distance.
Whatever joy and exuberance the company enjoyed from their success in making a friend of Hasira faded when a fierce thunderstorm hit. Kion braced himself against the violent winds and punishing rain.
"Gaaah! I can't see a thing!" Bunga groaned.
"Me either, Dieu ait pitié." Ono muttered while crossing himself. Fuli looked particularly miserable as her soaked body weighed her down like a ton of bricks. Fuli enjoyed baths as much as the next noble, but she absolutely hated being wet like this, her clothes moist and her body freezing.
"God help us, we have to get somewhere dry!" she cried.
Kion was about to speak when a flash of lightning and crack of thunder struck so close it almost sounded like an explosion. The boom panicked men and horses alike, and soon, even the most disciplined mounts lost control, scattering in different directions.
"Woah! Easy boy! Calm down!" Kion desperately tried to rein in his destrier but to no avail. The horse bolted off, changing directions with each crack of thunder.
Kion's heart raced, and he began to panic when he realized he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him. He had no idea where he was, where anyone was!
"Hello! Ono, Bunga, Anga, Beshte, Fuli, Azaad, Kopa!" Kion roared, but the rain and thunder masked his voice. Once again, all Kion could think about was Rani and his baby. Why had he done this? Why had he-"
"Kion!" The King almost jumped out of his saddle when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Quickly turning, he exhaled deeply upon seeing Kopa's face.
"Kopa!"
"There you are, come on, we need to find the others, this storm-" Kopa and Kion almost went still when they heard the sounds of horses moving around them. Only it didn't sound like those of knights.
"Azaad?" Kion said, praying it was their turcopoles. Kopa narrowed his eyes and drew a sword before Kion, and any nearby Templars did the same. By the time it ended, the storm had passed.
Kion felt dazed, and the whole ordeal felt like a blur during the storm. But now, he, Kopa, and ten Templar Knights/Sergeants knelt on the ground, bloodied, bruised, and hands bound behind their backs.
Over fifty Sonn horse-archers and Ghulams stood around them laughing and speaking jubilantly in their language. Kion felt more shame than fear, he couldn't even look at Kopa, but when he did, the Templar Grandmaster and his men showed steel determination.
"Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright." Kion said to himself. Nobles and even kings often found themselves as prisoners during war, they'd demand a ransom. At least Kion prayed they would.
"Dieu ait pitié!" One of the Templars cried. Kion and Kopa soon understood his dismay, for the Sonn around them began bowing their heads and kneeling.
Three horsemen rode up, the Emirs Makucha, Shetani, and a third man. Kion's face turned pale, and he nearly felt his heart stop when he saw the black lion banner.
"Well well well, what do we have here?" Shetani snickered.
"I'd say it's the leader of the Templar dogs and the King of the Franks." Makucha answered with similar satisfaction.
The third man dismounted and slowly approached them. He stood taller than any Sonn Kion ever saw, in fact, he looked a bit bigger than the Plantagenet King himself. When he removed his helmet, Kion became even more confused.
The Sonn noble's hair extended long and was vibrant in ruby red mixed in with onyx black meticulously groomed with a handsome face in the center, finished by eyes that shined blue like the ocean. Additionally, he had no facial hair like the other Sonn, in fact, he didn't even look like a Sonn at all. He looked like a Frank.
"Not what you were expecting." His voice was somewhat smooth but held a clear power behind it. It was a voice that should have sounded enchanting but only carried something else beneath it.
"I take after my mother." Kion felt a chill down his spine as he understood the implication.
"Radcliffe." Kion growled. The Sonn King loomed over Kion and stared at him with eyes that burned with a fiery inferno yet felt as cold as the void.
"Kion Plantagenet, the King of the Franks. I'm so glad we can finally meet in person." Radcliffe's French might've impressed Kion had he not felt such a burning disdain for the Sonn King.
"I must admit, I am rather disappointed in you. Coming here to cause trouble in my domain goes against the will of your God if I'm correct?"
The Templars growled.
"This isn't your domain! This land belongs to Hasira and his people!" The Sonn began to laugh.
"Ahh yes, that Persian rat, I'll deal with him soon enough." There wasn't any threat in Radcliffe's voice, only utter surety.
"He's going to reclaim his home!" Kion roared, but it had no effect on Radcliffe.
"His home? I think you're misinformed. Persia and its people belong to me. I desired it. I took it. Thus it is mine, just as Outremer and Aurvitas will be."
"You dream heathen!" A Templar snarled only to grunt when a Ghulam kicked his stomach, knocking him over.
"I say we cut the 'Lion of France's' head off and send it back to his bitch queen!" Shetani laughed.
"What!? Are you insane? He's a King, and his ransom could hire an entire army of mercenaries! Not to mention his father is King of England and now France, do you want to bring half the Franks in Europe down upon us!" Makucha snarled.
"Yes! Bring them all here for us to kill, then we take Europe!" Shetani's laughter grew more frightening.
"No, no, Makucha's right. He's far more valuable to me alive than dead." Radcliffe's smile unsettled Kion like nothing else, and he tried to jerk away as he felt the Sonn king stroke his long hair.
"The same cannot be said for the likes of you." Radcliffe now turned to Kopa, and the Templars and fear crept back into Kion's face.
"You Templars are fanatics and refuse to be ransomed if I'm correct."
"Yes!" One of the Sergeants roared.
"Well then, if you're not worth any money, then perhaps you could provide me with 'entertainment'." The Sonn began laughing again and Kion felt his heart race faster than before.
Radcliffe loomed over Kopa, who continued to remain calm.
"Here's what I never understand about you Christians, and you Templars in particular. You devote yourself to a phantom you can never see and cannot prove even exists and follow an arbitrary set of rules hoping you'll enter some better life when you die?" The Sonn's laughter increased.
"Christ is no myth, Radcliffe. Of this, we know." Kopa sounded calmer than he did in most council meetings, but Kion still trembled.
"Hmp, is that so? You'd rather die than deny him, correct?" Kopa nodded without hesitation, only for a truly chilling smile to emerge on Radcliffe's face.
"I wonder then, what do the lives of your brothers mean to you?" Fear, at last, crept into Kopa's face when he saw Radcliffe walk over to one of the Templar Knights.
"Deny your God, or he dies."
Kion's mouth dropped open, but no words came out.
"Don't do it, Grandmaster! Never deny our lord and savior, not even to save me!" The Templar cried. Radcliffe looked down at the man coldly.
"You don't fear death?"
The Templar Knight, Kion didn't even know his name, stared back up without a hint of fear.
"No! I'm ready to be a martyr, like saint Stephen and so many others! I am ready to die for Christ, my Lord and my God, my redeemer, my savior! His is the Kingdom, his is the power, his is the glory, now and forever!"
Radcliffe drew his kilij without a word and decapitated the Templar with a single blow. Kion cried out, but no intelligible words emerged. Kopa clenched his eyes shut and looked away as the Sonn seethed in horrible laughter.
Kion began hyperventilating as he saw Radcliffe move to a Templar sergeant. Radcliffe looked back at Kopa.
"Well?"
Kopa's eyes met the Sergeant, who shook his head and then stared back up at Radcliffe defiantly.
"You will not have our Grandmaster's soul. Do your worst."
"Very well." Kion screamed again when he saw Radcliffe decapitate the Templar. Kopa began to tremble when he saw the Sonn King walk over to another Templar Knight, and only this one was a young man, perhaps even younger than Kion. Kopa and Kion saw tears fill the terrified young man's face.
"Wait! Wait, don't do this! I'll pay their ransom. You'll get it, I swear to God!" Kion begged.
Kopa looked into the eyes of the knight. But despite his fear, the Templar shook his head.
"Not for me, My Lord, not for me, but to your Name give the glory." The Templar choked as he spoke his last words. When the young man's head hit the ground, Kion, at last, saw tears in Kopa's eyes.
One by one, Radcliffe decapitated the Templars, who all continued to defy him until the end. When the last one died, Kion collapsed onto his face, tears streaming into the dirt.
"Kopa! Kopa, I'm sorry! I should've listened to you! I'm sorry! God forgive me! God forgive me!" The King wailed like a child, earning laughter from the Sonn. Despite this, Kopa looked back at Kion, and once more, he saw warmth in his uncle's face.
"Kion, it's alright. I forgive you."
"Do you?" Radcliffe said as he now walked over the Grandmaster.
"What about these men here? Would they forgive you? All you had to do was utter a few words, and you could've saved them? Riddle me this, if your God is the God of love and mercy, how do you Templars serve him by killing?"
Kopa didn't look up at Radcliffe.
"I take no pleasure in killing. I'd rather embrace you Sonn, but I do what I must to protect God's children."
"Hmp, of course, you do. I must admit, Templar. You have proven yourself an annoyance over the years but also a very capable warrior. Killing you might very well be a waste." Kion's heart raced again as he saw Radcliffe stroke Kopa's hair.
"I could save you from death? I need a new Emir for my Ghulams. Renounce your God and swear yourself to me. You will be rewarded beyond anything the phantom you serve could offer. Women, treasure, feasts, herbs, land, anything your heart desires." Radcliffe's enchanting voice felt more unsettling than a snake.
But then, Kopa looked back up at Radcliffe. There wasn't anger, fear, or dread in the Templar's eyes, only pitty.
"What you offer me is bread, nothing more. Radcliffe, I'm going to die one day, either by your blade, another man's, or the decay of the flesh upon my bones. All of our human bodies will die one day. That is a fact. It is my soul, and my soul alone that will go on, and that soul belongs to Christ, and Christ alone."
"Hmp, so be it."
Kion forced himself back up to his knees and shook worse than before.
"No! No, please! Please!"
Kopa looked up at the sky, the clouds had fled and the sun setting. In the distance, he saw something, upon closer inspection, he realized it was a bird, but like no bird he'd ever seen before. If Kopa had to describe it, the bird would've been a dove, but it seemed like something more, something otherwordly, and carried an olive branch in its beak. Makucha and a few Sonn looked up at the sky in confusion but saw nothing.
"Kion, it's going to be alright." Kion heard only peace in Kopa's voice and face. As Radcliffe raised his sword, Kopa looked back up at the dove.
"Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit!" The world stopped, and Kion felt everything go still. Radcliffe's kilij severed Kopa's head in a single blow, and his body hit the ground.
"Ahhhhhhh!" Kion now lost it entirely, and he broke down completely.
"God forgive me! Christ forgive me!" More laughter followed, and Radcliffe loomed over Kion with Makucha and Shetani.
"Shetani, take him to your fortress until I decide how much he's worth."
"Yes."
"And one more thing, when I arrive to take him back for his ransom, he will deny his God."
A horrible grin appeared on Shetani's face, and he chuckled.
"With pleasure."