Thanks to mirrorkinomoto and IanAlphaAxel for reviewing the previous chapter.
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Chapter Three: How We Survive
"Not unto us, Blessed Divine, not unto us; but to your name be the glory," the brotherhood chanted in unison, kneeling before the statue of the white stag. Its eyes were bright yellow as if the sun itself shone through them.
The high priestess, Naoko, entered the room and stood before the statue, dressed in her clerical white robes. She wore a golden sash around her waist and a golden biretta to denote her status as leader of the priesthood of Ecruteak City. "You are the clerics of the Order of Ash Your mind, body and heart belong to the Phoenix. You will serve the Phoenix until death," the woman said.
No one said a word. They had to wait for Naoko to give them the command.
"Your task is simple. We must purge the world of those who do not believe. The heathens who worship the Blessed Divine. Three holy relics were taken from us during the war, and we must obtain them to strengthen our connection with the Phoenix. Morty, please stand. You have proven you are capable of succeeding in this task."
A blond male climbed to his feet, tightening the purple scarf around his neck. "I'm honoured."
"You will travel to Blackthorn City."
He lifted a brow. "That is the heathen capital. They don't believe in the Phoenix
The woman nodded, her black hair falling around her shoulders. "You have been chosen. You will use the Sight to reclaim what is ours."
The Sight allowed him to draw on the powers of his faith to combat any threat. All it required was an offering of blood and magic could be harnessed. He bowed his head. "I won't disappoint you."
"The wicked must be cast down, and the heart of this corruption beats strongly in Blackthorn City. This evil must be purged from our holy land before we become consumed in darkness," Naoko said, prompting other members of the Order of Ash to nod their heads. "Find the three holy relics and bring them home."
He nodded again. "It will be done."
Morty dropped to his knees and parted the bushes with both hands. Peering through the opening, he spotted a family of four sitting around a campfire cooking a rabbit. There were two children, a boy and a girl who looked to be no older than six years of age. He dropped a hand to his belt, his fingers brushing up against his curved dagger. Fingers wrapping around the hilt of the blade, he withdrew it from its sheath and watched the family before him.
"I am sorry," he murmured. "If only things could be different… But sacrifices are necessary. Blood is a power." The parents had their backs turned and the children were too focused on their rabbit than to notice him approaching. He was only a few feet away now. Their deaths would be swift. They weren't even armed. How foolish.
What others described as murder was a necessary sacrifice to the Order of Ash. Eliminate the weak. Drink their blood from the heart and feel empowered once more. He remained hidden behind the bushes continuing to watch the family.
"Mama, I think I heard something," the girl said.
So much for being discrete.
"Just the wind, my dear," the mother replied.
"I would've expected something more of a challenge," Morty murmured. "You work in mysterious ways, Ho-Oh." He pulled away from the bushes and crept around it, his eyes fixed on the family ahead.
The family hadn't moved from their position. They were still sitting around the campfire cooking their food, completely oblivious to his presence. Perfect. They weren't even armed. This would be easy. He emerged from the shadow and crept towards the adult male, his fingers gripping around the hilt of his dagger. He didn't manage to make another step when the mother looked up from the fire, her dark eyes resting on his face.
She immediately rose to her feet. "Braydon! A bandit!"
"A bandit?" Morty replied curtly. "I'm more than that. I'm sorry I have to interrupt such a feast, but I'm afraid I can't let it continue." He moved swiftly towards the father, plunging his dagger into the back of the man's spine before he could even react.
The man cried out as blade pierced flesh. The mother screamed, and the children looked on in terror. One of them burst into tears. How he hated the sound of sobbing. Such an awful noise. He pulled his dagger out and kicked the man in the back of the knees, forcing him to topple over face first onto the ground.
The mother dropped to her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked at him with pleading eyes as if that would change his mind. Still, he was interested in hearing what she had to say so he lowered his blade and waited. "Please! Spare the children! Take mine if you must but spare the children!"
So selfless, but oh so foolish. He raised his dagger and pointed the tip at her. "You don't get to make deals. There's only one being that decides your fate and it's not Arceus. Your deaths will go to a great cause so do not feel sad." He walked towards her. Poor commonfolk. So useless. He didn't understand why Ho-Oh needed such weak souls, but he didn't dare question his orders.
The woman didn't even try to fight back. She had probably accepted her fate and saw no point in even trying to defend herself. That just showed to him that she was weak and unworthy of life. She wouldn't even try to fight for her children. Pathetic.
"Why are you doing this?"
He dropped down to his knees and looked at her directly in the eyes. Reaching out both his hands, he placed them on her shoulders and said, "The world must be purified." The last person who dared to disobey the Order's wishes ended up losing a hand. He lowered the edge of the blade to her vulnerable throat and added, "Do not look so glum. Your death will only strengthen our faith." Having grown tired of her simpering nature, Morty withdrew the blade from her neck. Pulling his back, he pointed the blade at her chest then plunged the weapon forward. The tip of the blade pierced the flesh between her breasts.
A gasp escaped her throat as her eyes widened. Hands immediately flew to her chest to attempt to bat away the blade, but her strength faded fast.
He slapped her hands away with his free hand then drove the blade in further, gazing deep into her eyes, watching her life fade away, a sense of calm overcoming him. Blood seeping out of the wound, he withdrew the blade and watched the woman fall to the ground. Within moments, her clothes were dyed red from the blood. He cleaned his dagger on the grass then climbed to his knees, giving the woman one last glance. "Your death will not be in vain," he said, then turned his attention towards the two children.
As expected, both were staring at him with wide eyes, frozen with fear.
Taking the life of an adult didn't bother him, but the murder of a child wasn't so easy. Still, he had his orders and he could not defy the wishes of the Order. Fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger, he took a step towards the children.
"Mother?" the girl said, eyes glancing down at the corpse, as if hoping she would awaken.
Foolish child. "She's gone to a better place, child," Morty said. "You can go with her. You can be together again. Wouldn't you like that? To reunite with your mother once more? You'd be free of pain and suffering. Doesn't that sound nice?" He continued to close the distance between them.
The girl's brother grabbed his sister's arm.
"Close your eyes. It will be over soon."
The children could've run, but fear paralysed them. They were rooted in place waiting for the inevitable death.
He grabbed the boy first, fingers wrapping around his right arm, holding him in place. Before the child could react, Morty slashed his throat then released his grip, gently giving the boy a shove. He toppled over onto his backside, his hands clutching at his throat, as if that would somehow make things better.
The girl screamed.
Annoyed at the shrill cry, Morty knocked her down over onto the grass then straddled her waist. He put his dagger down before wrapping his hands around her neck. "May you find peace in death," he murmured, tightening his hold.
The girl tried to pry his hands off, but she lacked the strength.
Morty kept his hands in place until she had taken her final breath. Moving his left hand to the side of her neck, he checked for a pulse and found none. Satisfied, he removed both hands then climbed off her, rising to his feet.
He shifted his attention to the mother. All he needed was to draw blood from the heart and consume it. Gazing over his shoulder, he made sure no one else was around before kneeling before the corpse, his blade raised above the heart. He brought it crashing down to better pierce the flesh.
Blood was power.
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A smile spread across her face. "Ethan!"
He returned her smile with one of his own. "Lyra, it is you. Arceus, I never thought I'd see you again," he exclaimed, moving towards her, his arms open and welcoming. He opened his arms and she walked into his embrace. His smile then faded. "The bandits."
She broke free of his arms and nodded. "You didn't return, and I assumed the worst. I am glad to see that is not the case." As if remembering she wasn't alone, Lyra turned her head to the side and looked at Sheila. Although the elderly woman did not seem bothered by their display of friendship. Lyra reminded herself she too was a slave here – she was not a free person.
"Ethan, please take her to room. I must meet with the King, but I will return before the sun has set," the woman said. "Do not wander too far." She took her leave.
Her sudden departure struck Lyra as strange considering she had only just arrived, but she supposed the woman trusted Ethan enough that he would not try to get her out of the castle.
Ethan waited until the woman had left before speaking again. His expression now serious, he said, "Why are you here, Lyra? What happened?"
"You guessed it. Bandits. Our village was attacked. My mother…" she paused, recalling her mother's death then winced at the painful memory, "…was killed by bandits. They took me in… Said I would make a great slave… And so I was brought here. Like we all are. All roads lead to the same destination." Blackthorn Castle.
"I'm sorry about your mother."
Her lower lip trembled as she fought to hold back tears. "She was right… She always said one day our peaceful lives would soon end…"
"You're going to be safe here, Lyra. No one will hurt you."
Her thoughts drifted back to Silver at the auction and his words regarding how some slaves were treated. "Are you sure? Because I met a boy at the auction place, and he would disagree with you. We're slaves, Ethan."
He placed a hand on her shoulder as if to provide comfort. "You won't find that mistreatment here under the King's watchful eye. You will be paid, and you will be protected. We are safe here, Lyra. My life has never been better."
She searched his eyes, trying to find a glimpse of hesitance and doubt within them, but found nothing. Ethan seemed to genuinely believe he was safe here, but did he not miss the life they had in the village? "That might be true… But I find it hard to believe. You value this life over the one we had back at home? Our real home? There were no slaves. There were no soldiers. We were free. We were in control of our lives… And you're saying this is better than that?"
Ethan pulled back his hand. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, "We don't have bandits to fear, Lyra. Look at what happened to your mother. Our home was never safe." He then raised his hands and pointed upwards at the ceiling. "This is home. We're safe within these walls. No army has the numbers to bring down this fortress. I understand that you are nervous, but trust me… You've got nothing to be concerned about. We serve the King well and he treats us kindly in return. He is not a cruel man. You will see for yourself."
She wasn't entirely convinced, but Ethan was a stubborn man and he wasn't going to change his mind. Better to drop the subject entirely than to keep pestering him about it. Pushing aside thoughts of her mother and slavery, she said, "What do you do here? What should I be aware of?"
He gestured towards the door. "I'll show you around the city, so you know important locations," he said, as he motioned for her to follow him.
Lyra started moving as Ethan continued his explanation. "Okay.
"The city is divided into four districts. We're in the Royal Quarters. To the east, we have what is known as the Thorns. That's where the soldiers gather for training. To the west, we have Blacklake. As the name suggests, there's a small lake there and a lot of the city folk gather around for festivals and entertainment. A tavern known as the Board Laid Bare can be found there and it's the most popular one in the city. To the south, which is where you entered from, is the Market District. And finally, to the north of the castle, is the Residential District where most people make their homes. Outside the castle walls we have farmland."
Lyra nodded. "Are slaves allowed to go to the tavern?"
"Only if their masters allow it," Ethan replied. "Some masters think their slaves will meet with other slaves and plan a revolt. Only slaves that have been mistreated would think to revolt, but you'll be relieved to know Sheila is not like that at all. She will allow us to visit the tavern at certain hours of the day. We're only allowed to visit an hour before the sun has set and only once we've finished our tasks for the day. I can take you there now – you should meet with the tavern owner after all. He's our main source of gossip and you'll be making plenty of trips there anyway, so let's go." He pushed open the door and stepped outside.
She was starting to see why Ethan was satisfied with the current life. Although he was a slave, he seemed to have some freedom. For now. "Lead the way."
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Lance dropped onto his knees and peered down at the ground before him, his dark eyes fixed on a trail of pawprints. He reached down his right hand, fingers gently touching the muddy tracks, tracing the outline. Wolf prints. He frowned. The last wolf he had seen had been over five years ago. Edward often sent Lance and a small group of men to the woods on hunting trips to purify the land of the mages, but not the wolves.
He wasn't sure why Edward feared the wolves so much. It wasn't as if the wolves could do anything. They had no home. No castle. No army. No leader. Nothing. It wasn't as if they had received reports of wolves running rampant across the region attacking people. Still, he didn't dare refuse his grandfather's orders.
"You know, I'm going to miss our little adventures together," his companion said.
Lance glanced up. Bruno, his closest friend, was leaning against a tree trunk, his thick arms folded across his chest. "What do you mean?"
The man pulled away from the tree, unfolding his arms letting them drop to his sides. "I'm resigning, Lance. My service to your grandfather is done." He pushed his long dark hair back over his shoulder.
Rising to his feet, Lance frowned and said, "But you can't just leave. We swore an oath to serve." All men who wanted to serve in the king's army had to swear an oath upon joining the Dragonite Order. "I will not marry, nor indulge in pleasures of the flesh. I will fight for as long as my body allows it. I submit myself to the king."
Bruno shook his head. "And I have no interest in spilling blood, Lance. What have we achieved over the years? So, we've slain a few mages, but to what benefit? And the wolves too – this is what? The first set of wolf prints we've seen in the past decade. What does that tell you? They're not a threat. What exactly do you hope to achieve, Lance?"
"We have orders. Wolves and mages pose a threat to the safety of our kingdom, and they must be stopped. If we ever want to safe, all threats must be eliminated. That's why we are here. We're culling their numbers," Lance explained using the exact same words his grandfather had used when explaining why the mages must be stopped.
Rolling his eyes, Bruno snorted. "You know that is a piss poor excuse. You don't even know why you are doing these raids… You do it because you're an obedient grandson, but you don't ask the questions." He sighed and gestured at the paw prints. "Those wolves are smart enough not to try and challenge us outside a full moon night. As strong as they are rumoured to be, I don't think they'll want to fight you. You've slain a wolf before."
"Years ago in my first year as a knight," Lance replied. He had been exploring the forest tracking down a rogue mage when a young male had approached him. The boy had a maddened gleam in his eyes and a hint of yellow in them. A werewolf. Lance had driven a blade through the boy's heart. "It wasn't a fair fight. He was just a kid."
"A werewolf, Lance."
"A teenager, Bruno. He wasn't carrying a sword even. Not a real challenge."
"Yet your grandfather thought it was a marvellous achievement and thus you were knighted the next morning. I was there."
Lance glanced down at his sword. Unlike other blades, his weapon could not be destroyed. It had bene forged with dragon's fire centuries ago and passed down from generation to generation. His grandfather had given him the blade as a gift at his knighting ceremony. "An underserved knighting."
"Arceus favours you."
"And I don't know why. I'm no different to any other man with a sword."
"You have king's blood in your veins. That makes you important."
"And it doesn't grant me magical powers or enhanced strength."
Bruno snorted. "You're stronger than any man your age, Lance. You can even defeat opponents older and more experienced than you. Don't you find that odd? You could argue you're just committed to becoming the best, but I've never seen no man fight as well as you can. You always seem to have quicker reaction times. You don't tire so easily. You even heal faster. Arceus has blessed you."
"And is that why you're leaving the army then?" Lance replied with a frown. "Because you see no need to continue fighting. I can stop you from leaving. I'm the knight-commander."
"That's an abuse of power, Lance."
"What are you going to do then?"
"Marry a beautiful girl and build a house for my family in the countryside far away from the kingdom. Isn't that the life we all want if we had the choice? To be far away from war and live in the comfort of your own home with the people that you love? It is what I have always dreamed of." Bruno stretched his arms to the side then dropped a hand to his blade's hilt on the right side of his waist. "Have you ever thought of retiring?"
Lance shook his head. "I swore an oath, Bruno. I will continue fighting until I can no longer use a sword. I'll marry as an old man."
"And I feel sorry for that young woman."
"And do you believe my grandfather will just let you walk away?"
With a roll of his eyes, Bruno shook his head. "Of course not. I don't intend to tell him. I'm just going to leave and he's not going to find me because you're not going to come searching."
Lance looked at him in disbelief. "I could make you stay." Keep Bruno in chains and locked away in the dungeons below the castle – but he wasn't cruel. Bruno had raised some good points. Freedom of choice, love and peace. Three things that weren't obtained through service in the military.
"You won't say anything will you?" Bruno said.
He shook his head. "No, I won't. I'm not going to stop you from pursuing a life elsewhere. I just hope that the path you choose ends up a rewarding one. I will miss your company – you've been a loyal soldier of my grandfather's army for over a decade now." One of the longest serving to be precise. Both he and Lance had joined the army around the same time and together had undergone many missions involving hunting the druids.
"I'll be sure to send letters to keep you informed of my journeys."
Lance nodded. "And I look forward to reading them."
"What are you going to do, Lance? You can't fight this war forever. Eventually, age will catch up with you and you'll have to consider other options. Settling down, having a family…"
"I swore an oath, Bruno. The same one you did. Except I don't plan on abandoning it. Grandfather understands. Until that day comes, grandfather wants Clair to marry to form an alliance with other powerful families."
Bruno frowned. "Wait. Clair? I don't mean any offense, but Clair? She's not exactly… what I would call wife material."
The same words Clair often repeated to their grandfather when he was giving her the future of the family lecture. Unlike most of the maids whom served his family, Clair had no interest in marriage and raising children. She preferred engaging in masculine activity such as wrestling and discussing battle strategies and often he would find her sneaking into the gladiator arena to speak with the fighters.
"Better not let her hear you say that…. Even though your words are true."
Bruno's expression remained stern. "But you are serious? This is your life?"
"I've chosen this life," Lance replied, turning his back and looking towards the castle. He could see the highest tower in the distance. "I'm not in a position to refuse my grandfather's orders… The king's orders may I remind you."
Bruno snorted. "And you don't have a problem with that? You're just going to blindly follow your grandfather's wishes?"
Turning back around, Lance frowned. "My mother died during childbirth, and my father had left after I had been born. That's what grandfather told me. I was showing signs of an illness, grandfather said. That's why father walked out on me. Didn't want a sick child. Grandfather could've had me killed as they do with sick children, but he believed in me. And here I am. I owe my life to him."
"I'm sorry… I didn't know."
"No one outside my family does… and I'd rather not discuss it. My father left. He was a breaker of oaths, grandfather said. That's why he was a sell sword who had come to this city looking for some work, but instead he met my mother and stayed." He paused then snorted. Edward had such little respect for the man he hadn't even mentioned what his name was. "I have no interest in finding him. I don't even want to know his name. The less I know the better. All I know is I swore to better than that."
Lance turned away from Bruno and focused his eyes on the path ahead, not liking where the conversation was heading. His upbringing wasn't something he liked to discuss. Instead, he focused his attention on finding footprints belonging to the wolves. He scanned the dirt. There. Some footprints. He moved closer then dropped down on one knee for a closer look. Not wolf prints, but human.
"They could be in their human form?" Bruno suggested.
"Let's see where they lead." Lance climbed to his feet and followed the track. Wolf prints would normally lead to a corpse of either human or animal. Corpses of a victim of a wolf were mutilated making it difficult to identify the faces. The tracks stopped in a clearing. Three bodies. An adult and two children. "Clean kills," Lance remarked.
"Yes… to an extent," Bruno said. "The corpses are intact."
"Which means it wasn't the work of the wolves…" Lance kneeled beside the adult for a closer look. A stab wound in the chest, and a five-pointed star drawn in blood on the foreheads. "Not a typical mage. They wouldn't use a knife to kill someone when they could just use magic for a cleaner death."
"Then who else could it be? Bandits? You know there are a few rogue soldiers around the region preying on the helpless."
Lance shook his head. "No. A bandit wouldn't just murder someone. They would keep a person hostage or sell them as a slave. A dead person is of no use to a bandit." He frowned, his eyes moving towards the children. "It takes a person with a cold heart to kill an innocent child. I don't know what they were hoping to achieve."
"Perhaps their murderer was looking for food?" Bruno said, tilting his head towards the nearby fireplace. "He came across this camp, didn't want to share and killed them."
Lance climbed to his feet. "Perhaps… But I believe there is a more sinister motive here."
"What? You think there's a cult here at work?"
"Necromancy," Lance replied with a frown. "But we haven't seen them in decades. Yet I've seen this five-pointed star in Koga's books before." Necromancy was supposedly a dead school of magic – his grandfather had stated all the necromancers had been killed centuries ago and their knowledge of the magic had died with them. "We haven't seen any signs of necromancer activity in decades. Not since the war that won my great grandfather the throne," Lance stated.
"We can't rule it out. You should probably tell your grandfather. Best he's informed of this sighting."
He couldn't argue with that. Edward would probably send him on another scouting mission to find more clues. If the threat of necromancy proved to be real, then they would be facing a battle on two sides – the mages and the wolves and the dark magic of the necromancers. "If these clues turn out to be something greater… Would that lure you back to the kingdom?"
"It would. It's something that would threaten the entire region."
"Then I'll be sure to keep your informed of our progress." He glanced down at the corpses again and sighed. As much as he would've liked to have given them a proper burial, his grandfather would not allow non-Blackthorn citizens to be buried within their castle walls. He also didn't have the tools to bury them here in the forest and questions would be asked of him should he leave the city with the necessary equipment to bury the dead. No one cared about the outsiders until they became a threat. "We should return at once."
"And leave the dead?"
"The sun will be setting soon, and I would rather not be here at night when dangerous creatures lurk in the forests. They know these woods better than we do," Lance reasoned. It wasn't just the mages they had to contend with – there were other threats that lurked in the shadows such as the wild boars and bears.
Bruno nodded. "indeed." He didn't say another word and walked towards the forest boundary in silence. Lance spared another glance at the family then turned around and followed Bruno.
