A bit late, but I've been playing Dishonored and its DLC :) There's gonna be a bit of a break after this since I'll be deciding how to end the next chapter and I'll be playing the 'Brigmore Witches' DLC for Dishonored coming out on the 13th.
Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. Time to start.
"Hey, stop pushing!" Guiche complained, pushing back against the spear wielding sentry and getting a glare in return. In response, he grabbed for his rapier in a gesture that Raziel guessed was meant to be threatening, but only managed to come out as pathetic given that it had gotten stuck in its sheath. The sentry seemed to see this and smiled underneath his helmet, making some barely heard chuckles that Guiche (thankfully) didn't make out. No doubt the noble would take offense and start swinging his rose wand, which would end with a large fight for all of them.
Wardes was calm, although he did make sure to keep Louise behind him at all times and always kept a hand ready to grab for his sword-wand. One of the soldiers tried to separate him from Louise and nearly got impaled for his troubles. Raziel thought they were going to fight then and there, but his master's yelling managed to, for the most part, keep the situation from spiraling out of control.
For his part, Raziel thought he was doing okay. One of the smaller sentries had been assigned to him, which was no doubt due to the fact that they could tell that he wasn't a Mage and thought he wouldn't be as troublesome as the rest. They were proven wrong when he had snapped the sword of the overeager sentry who kept poking him with his weapon in an effort to appear threatening. That had gotten him a stern glare from his master and a cheeky grin from Guiche. Evidently the latter already disliked the guards from the small interaction they had.
In a way, he could understand their reasons for being hostile and suspicious. They had appeared in a secure tunnel and most of them were bearing weapons, so it was easy to make the assumption that they were hostile or that they were assassins sent to kill them from within. Evidently the princess either didn't expect this or assumed that they would be able to talk their way out of the situation. He would guess on the former; she was the person who thought sending his barely combat-able master on this mission was a good idea in the first place.
Wales didn't quite know what to make of the group being held up by his soldiers. They were ragtag, that much was certain - The older male appeared to be a noble, as did two of the teens following him. By his uniform, Wales could guess that he was a knight or a noble of some other eyes drifted over to the sword-wand he held in his sheath. Only soldiers or assassins used the weaponized foci over their standard wands. So if he had to guess then he would say that the older male was a soldier with a rather high rank, if his uniform was any indication.
The attire of the two teens standing beside him also indicated that they were nobility, and the uniform was slightly familiar to him. School attire tended to be standardized all over Halkeginia and the clothes definitely held similar designs to Albion's own school. His eyes swept around the area carefully before turning back to the teens. No Familiars...that was odd. Most noble students were very attached to their Familiars and made sure to keep them with them at all times. He was attached as well...though his own Familiar had gotten killed rather early in this rebellion.
The last one was the odd one out. Either a mercenary or a manservant, although he would have to guess that it was the latter given his young age and barely armored appearance. He said nothing, even as the two students continued to yell out complaints and the knight tried to calmly explain their situation. It was either he was too scared to say anything, he didn't care or he was mute.
"Everyone, please calm down," Wales finally spoke out. The soldiers immediately stopped their hostile glares and stood back, allowing him to bypass them and meet the group himself. It wasn't the safest procedure, but the only soldiers they had left at this point were either the most loyal or seeking death, so their actions weren't the best right now and he knew it. The fact that they were all going to die tomorrow and almost none of them had gotten a good nights sleep in the past week had a way of making them sluggish.
"A-Are you Prince Wales?" Louise asked hesitantly, removing herself from Wardes protection and stepping forward bravely. His appearance was familiar in a way and she could swear he saw him in the crowd during the Queen Marianne's birthday celebration three years ago. She had to make sure that it was him and not just an imposter sent to ward off any would-be assassins.
"Indeed, what is it you wish to ask of me?" Wales replied with absolutely no hesitation. Louise gave him a suspicious look, "I suppose you're surprised by willingness to admit it given our situation," He smiled, "Don't be. We're all going to die tomorrow and, if you really are assassins, then I have nothing left to lose if you kill me here tonight except a few hours. Will you please introduce yourself now? If you're not assassins then I would prefer we not spend our last hours standing here in this dank and dreary tunnel."
"O-Oh..." Louise looked down at her feet and shuffled about nervously. When they had gotten near Newcastle she was surprised to find it being overlooked by a large ship and being bombarded once or twice every few times. The guards said nothing when Wales remarked about them all dying tomorrow, further surprising her with their nonchalant attitude. Were they really that accepting of death? Why did they not escape? If they asked for aid from the other countries - Tristain immediately came to mind - then they could no doubt live to fight another day and obtain victory.
She found herself staring up at Jean-Jaques and him giving her a supportive nod in return. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "My name is Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere," She paused before continuing, "This is Viscount Jean-Jaques Francis de Wardes. He's Guiche de Gramont and the one standing next to him is my Familiar, Raziel," She pointed at each of them in turn, coughing awkwardly when Wales gave her a dubious look at her mentioning that Raziel was her Familiar. They had more things to worry about than her odd summoning.
"Then it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Valliere," He bowed, a gesture which everyone (sans Raziel) returned, "Forgive me for doubting you, but do you happen to have any proof of your claims? You must understand that times are hard now and that we can't afford to let any possible traitors or spies in our midst," He pointed to the tunnel around, "Adding to that, you used a tunnel that only those of the royal family, and their closest allies, are aware of. How did you come to know of this passage?"
"Y-Yes, here!" She shoved her hand forward and displayed the ruby of water to him. Wales looked down at her hand, confused at what she was trying to say at first, before his eyes spotted the familiar blue jewel, "Th-This was given to me by Princess Henrietta to verify our identities. She told me that you would recognize it and that you held the ruby of wind with you."
"By Ann- I mean, Princess Henrietta?" He raised his right hand and held it close to Louise's. Immediately he felt a reaction; the two rubies reacted to one another, emanating a slight power due to their close proximity, "It seems you are telling the truth. Reports indicated that Tristain is still well and it is much easier to believe that Ann...Princess Henrietta gave it to you rather than the idea that you managed to steal it or make a perfect copy. Tell me, why are all of you here? It must be important if you were sent in the midst of this rebellion."
"I believe I can answer that, Your Highness," Wardes cut in before she could answer, "We have been sent here on a mission by Princess Henrietta of Tristain," He glanced at all the surrounding guards warily before he continued, "What I am about to tell you should never be made public, so I advise you to send away any guards that you can't afford to share this information with. I know this may sound like an attempt to get you alone so you will be defenseless, but please trust us. We wish no harm to befall you."
...Odd, Wardes was lying about something. Raziel glanced at him before shaking his head in annoyance. Just because he could tell that someone was lying didn't mean that he could tell what they were lying about. His mind was quickly distracted when the young sentry poked him at his side with his dagger, earning him a slight glare and an annoyed push. It didn't matter to him. As he had found when he spent time here, nobles tended to lie about a lot of things and it almost always ended with no problems. It was likely just resentment for being sent on this asinine mission.
"Anything you can tell me you can tell them," Wales crossed his arms in front of him, "These soldiers are among the most loyal and we will be fighting side by side come the morning when Reconquista breaches our walls."
A barely noticeable twitch came from Wardes before he continued, "Very well, but can we move to another place? I would rather if we didn't stand in this place. You can bring your guards with you if you like, but we must make this quick since time is not on our side-" As if on cue, the area around them shook as the Lexington shot at the castle again. All of them were silent, save for Guiche who yelled in surprise at the sudden attack, "I would prefer it if we did this in the castle proper rather than a tunnel that has a good chance of collapsing around us."
"Very well then. Follow me."
In the end, the transaction with the letter was done quickly. His master had taken the letter from him and promised to see it safely returned to that princess when their mission was over, but not before trying to urge the prince to abandon this lost cause and to escape with them. Raziel could see the soldiers around them nodding at her sentiment; they wanted at least one of the royal family to survive this ordeal and, if God willed it, successfully fight back against the heretical Oliver Cromwell and take his rightful place on Albion's throne.
He had refused, of course. The exact words he had used were that "A prince who isn't willing to die with his people doesn't deserve their respect," and, in response to his master's words that the princess wanted him to escape, claimed that, "Henrietta didn't wish me for to escape and made no request of the sort in the letter," and that "She knew the importance of sacrifice," His master had been forced to concede to the point and even apologized for her statements.
...Of course, Wales was lying. Raziel saw it when his expression changed ever so slightly when he said that the princess made no request for him to escape. If Raziel had to hazard a guess, then he would surmise that the princess did indeed make a request for him to escape and, given his expression, that it must have hurt him to have to lie to his master about it. He had his reasons, he was sure of this, though they didn't particularly concern him. If he wanted to die then it was none of his business.
Wales seemed to accept the inevitability of his death. Counting everyone left in the castle, the Prince's army amounted to about three hundred people maximum, and many of those were servants or some civilians with barely any combat experience. The enemy had an army that amounted to fifty thousand, though Raziel doubted that that they would need even a fraction of that number to bring the loyalists to heel. No matter how one looked at it, the royalist army was doomed to die against insurmountable odds and not even a miracle could save them.
"Don't worry: We gave everyone the choice whether to stay or leave. Anyone who's still here has made the choice to give up their lives, myself included, for an honorable death. Do not weep for them, but celebrate their bravery..." That was what Wales had said, and yet Raziel could tell that it wasn't truly genuine. He couldn't tell how much of it was his true feelings and how much of it was bravado, but the prince of Albion was lying.
"Hey, where are going?" Guiche poked at his back, eliciting annoyed grunt from the tired Undead, "Shouldn't we leave already? Valliere got the letter and Newcastle is going to be attacked come tomorrow morning. I'm no coward and I'll fight if I must, but we should leave before we're forced to fight against the entirety of Reconquista's army. We have an important mission and we can't afford to act like heroes, as honorable as it would be," Raziel didn't doubt that cowardice played a role in it, but he agreed with him. They had no place in this conflict.
"I do not know. Do not ask me," Raziel replied, walking faster in order to place some distance between him and the playboy. When he had expected them to leave his master had only said that they were staying for now and that they would leave in the morning, ostensibly because leaving right now would have gotten the attention of the patrolling warship and that it would be their 'honor' to attend the loyalist's last celebration.
"Let us drink, eat and be merry for tomorrow it will all end..." He repeated the line Wales had used to justify the celebrations. He looked down at his scarred hand before clenching his fist; he didn't understand. Why would they celebrate dying when they weren't Undead? The nonchalant way they all acted made him wonder if it was somehow fake and that they wouldn't truly die, but he could tell that they were at least being honest about that.
He wondered briefly if even the Gods could save them; assuming of course they ever decided to get of their lazy butts to help those in need. Nito would unleash a miasma, killing both sides and trying to spread as much death as possible. The Witch of Izalith would burn them all to the ground, assuming she didn't try to summon demons first. Gwyn would probably be the most successful, though he doubted he would do it unless he stood to gain something in return. Manus could likely route the army by himself, but he had no doubt that the soldiers would come back as abyssal creatures and monsters, which would just make things worse for everyone involved no matter how you tried to spin the tail.
Hmm, maybe that was why no one ever thought to send armies against the dying Gods. Better one Undead who could come back again and again over an army that failed because they were one moving target.
"Still, I didn't quite expect that Prince Wales would be the princess' lover," Guiche sidled up next to him, putting his hands behind his head in an attempt to look nonchalant at the news. In truth, he was shocked and somewhat dismayed, "Did all three of you know? Valliere didn't seem surprised and the Viscount didn't react to the news at all."
"No...I simply do not care," He replied. It mattered little to him who that princess romanced and that the prince was her lover. All he wanted to do was get out of this cursed building before he had to fight another nation's war or defend another person's cause. He had done enough of that during his days in Lordran and it ended with him receiving nothing but suffering for the next one hundred years. If these people wanted to die then he was fine with that; he just hoped that they would leave them out of it.
"Truly? Then you are either a liar or a fool," Though Guiche's words were harmful, it was easy to tell he held no malevolence in them, "Princess Henrietta is the flower of our country and the one who is sacrificing herself by choosing to willfully marry that awful Emperor Albrecht the III. Ah, my heart weeps for her and the trials she faces. If only I could find a way to comfort her then I would easily do so."
"You might come to regret your blind worship soon enough..." Raziel replied tiredly. He didn't want to off on a tangent about how princesses eventually abandoned their subjects in order to marry foreign lords. His eyes made their way from Guiche to Wales, who was leading from the front. She had already sent his master to a dangerous mission and now he found out that she was romancing the soon to be leader of a dying country. If Wales revealed himself to be a flame God then he would hazard a guess that the princess was a reincarnation of Gwyenevere in human form.
"It isn't blind worship!" Guiche immediately argued back, "Why, I have no doubt that Her Highness is suffering right now and only wishes to find someone to talk about her problems with-"
"Would you two shut up!" Louise yelled back from ahead of them, interrupting Guiche's would-be speech, "Prince Wales was gracious enough to invite us to his final celebration and you two are too busy talking nonsense to appreciate it. If you have nothing good to say then just stay quiet and don't say anything. This is a great honor and I don't want either of you ruining it because of your arguing."
It was just the four of them, including Wales. Wardes had separated from them earlier, claiming that he would check the surrounding area to make sure that the defenses were being set up properly and that there were no spies using the party as a chance to spread discord. Another lie, though Raziel was sure it was only because the Viscount didn't want to attend the party of a bunch of soon to be dead men. Gods knew he didn't want to either and would have refused to attend if his master hadn't told him refusing for no reason other than dislike was a major offense.
"As master wishes," Raziel did a mock bow before continuing his walk forward. Guiche said nothing and only grumbled to himself, muttering something about how he thought the mission would be far more exciting and not a simple letter delivery and retrieval. Wales laughed at their arguments; another fake expression he used to try and make it seem like he was calm and that everything was in control.
The party was far more jovial than he expected. Raziel glanced around the majestic dining room, taking note of the exquisite food that had been laid out and the forms of both men and women drinking wines, ales, beers and various other alcohols either out of joy or in an effort to forget all their problems and the fact that they were going to die come tomorrow.
His master had quickly gone into her own corner, taking nothing but one glass of wine and some fruit juice to dilute the alcoholic substance with. Guiche was off trying to flirt with one of the servants, remarking that he would do his best to ensure that he got at least one of them to reconsider their actions and come back with them. Raziel couldn't tell if he was being selfless and heroic or just looking for more conquests. He personally thought that it was a mixture of both.
"Come, my friends, drink to your hearts content!" Wales announced, receiving some cheerful yells and raised glasses in return, "Whether you're a noble, servant, soldier or wherever else you come from, we are all equal here now!" More cheers, "Tonight we will celebrate for tomorrow we will die with honor! We won't let Reconquista kill us without a fight. They expect us to be easy prey, thinking we're nothing but dogs to be put down. Tomorrow we shall prove them wrong and die with honor, upholding the name of the Tudors and showing them that we are not as weak as they think we are!"
The gathered royalists gave one last cheer before they threw themselves into the celebration. Raziel could see men bragging about their achievements in war and throwing drinking competitions while the females either enticed men away from the party into secluded chambers or prayed for luck come the battle tomorrow. As Wales stated, gender and class was of no consequence to them now: They were bound by their loyalty to the crown and willingness to sacrifice themselves, not their class or their gender. His master in particular was surprised about this.
He could see Wales step away from the throne with a tired sigh. Some of the younger females were staring at him with lovestuck expressions on their faces. The prince was popular and regarded as being physically attractive, so the stares didn't surprise him. His gaze went from the young prince to the old man sitting on the throne. He didn't know how old he was; all he could tell that he was very late into his adulthood and his hair was already graying either from age or from stress. His name was King James I, as he would find out later.
The old king stood up in order to make his own speech before he was forced down on his throne again from either exhaustion or age. Seeing this, the people around them laughed jovially and raised a glass to him.
"Your Majesty! It's too early to fall!
"Indeed! Save that for tomorrow!"
He didn't take offense to this and smiled wearily at his subjects, "Ah, it is alright. My legs were simply numb from sitting so long," Wales moved to support him. The king nodded at his remaining son before continuing, "Tomorrow...it won't be a battle for the ages, but a one-sided slaughter," He coughed, "You followed this old, decrepit king against an army that will no doubt kill us all come the morrow. Anyone who wishes to escape now, take one of the boats and leave this doomed place. None of us will judge you because you want to live."
None of them moved.
"Huh? What's our king saying now?" One of them asked in mock confusion.
"That's right! Isn't it too late to surrender now? We don't really have a choice, so I guess we should defend our brave king and make sure that he doesn't take all of the glory. What will I tell my grandchildren if they ask me what I did when my king was in trouble?"
"Right, right!" Another agreed, "We're not cowards!"
And with that final statement, the celebration went back at full force. Raziel saw his master being dragged around, being forced to sample Albionese wine and their fine cuisine. She forced herself to smile, even as her eyes became completely empty and her smile held no joy. She was weeping for these people, but she refused to show it and accepted their joy with nary a complaint. Raziel wondered briefly what she would say if she could try to convince them to abandon this lost cause of theirs.
"Oof!" Something had bumped into him, "Hey, watch where you're going! You need to be alert for the fight tomorrow!"
He looked in front of him and found no one. Blinking in confusion, he looked down and came face to face with a child that could've been no older than ten years of age, "Hey, who are you!" The child pointed an accusatory finger at him, "Are you a spy? I know everyone in this castle and I don't recognize you! Are you one of the visitors who came here earlier?" Raziel could only nod, "Huh, then I guess you're not a spy after all. Do me a favor and tell everyone that all of us fought bravely and with honor!"
Raziel could only stare after the boy's back as he turned around and lost himself in the crowd. He looked around quickly - He was the only child in this entire dining room. He could see soldiers, servants and nobles, but all of them were either in their late teens or adulthood. He was...surprised. He hadn't expected any children to remain here after Wales told them that most non-combatants had been evacuated.
He scratched his hair in confusion and sat down on one of the more abandoned tables and thought of what was going to happen come tomorrow morning. They would leave earlier and hopefully they could avoid the main force, but his master's depression was becoming obvious the longer she stayed at this celebration. Hopefully after this that princess wouldn't send her so-called childhood friend on more suicide missions. He didn't fancy being sent to Boleteria on some kind of scouting mission to check if King Allant had truly been defeated or to verify the rumors of the female noble who supposedly killed him in only to take his place in the end.
"This celebration is something, isn't it?" A woman sat next to him. Raziel took note of her features: Dark brown hair tied in a braid and simple green dress. Looked to be a young adult. He couldn't tell if she was a servant or a noble, "My son is so excited for what's gonna happen tomorrow. His father died in one of the earlier skirmishes and now he wants to follow in his footsteps. I'm so proud of him."
"Your son?" He asked back.
"Yes," She nodded with a smile, "Little Albert. Just ten years of age and already willing to fight like his poor father," ...Did she just say ten? "Oh, the way you're looking at me is like everyone else does. I'll say it again: I'm not going to send him away. Prince Wales was insistent that I do so, but I'm not really saving his life in the end if I do so. I have no plans to leave so if I send him away then he's already losing both parents. Why, I thought of running away with him at first, but when I heard of my husband's death I knew it would be a dishonor to just flee while he gave up his life. We'll join him and die tomorrow for the Tudors."
"You would let him die?" Raziel clenched his fist in irritation. He didn't know why he felt angry - death was death no matter the age of the person - but for some reason the idea of a child dying spent spasms of annoyance and anger to course through him. He supposed it was instinctual; any average person could rationalize killing an adult, but the death of a child was harder to excuse without acknowledging that you were a monster or the fact that it could have been avoided since most children weren't killers in disguise.
"For the crown? Of course," She nodded without hesitation, "All of us here made the choice to die. My husband was one of the first to fall and I'm going with him, so I refuse to abandon my son to an unknown fate. Better he dies for the crown and live a short life full of honor than he run away and live a long life as a coward. All those who ran away are cowards and traitors," Her face soured in distaste, "We're not going to be like that. We're going to fight for King James I and Prince Wales and we'll be right there come tomorrow morning."
Raziel's expression remained neutral, but his hands shook either from the cold or - as was more likely - barely contained anger. These people had chosen to die, he had accepted that, but a child couldn't possibly know the true consequences of death. He talked about fighting about bravely and with honor, but in the end they were going to die like animals against the rebel forces. He didn't make that choice; his remaining parent made the choice for him, allowing him to die just to satisfy her own urge to live life with honor and refusal to be seen as a 'traitor and a coward'.
...He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. In the end it was none of his business and he really shouldn't have cared. It wasn't his place to criticize death, given that he was a creature barely clinging to life and sometimes wished for death. It would just be hypocritical.
He stood up from his seat and left the great hall, weaving out of the crowded room and into the barren hallway. He couldn't stomach their celebrations, their laughter and forced cheer. He stopped and sat down against the wall, ignoring the cold chill he felt when the material hit against his skin. To him, death was always nothing but a simple inconvenience. That was made the Undead inhumane: Fear of death was an instinctual feeling among human beings. But to an Undead, it was merely a stepping stone that helped them achieve their goals.
To them, death didn't exist. The fear of death that defined human beings at a base level didn't exist. It was a simple struggle: What would win out in the end? Their opposition or their willpower to keep going? Even if it was hopeless, all of them kept going. But despite futility, all of them fought against the inevitable. They derived meaning from meaninglessness, trying to find a purpose so they could avoid Hollowing and try to achieve their goals. In a way, they were no different from Golems trying to achieve their set commands.
His master had left earlier; he had seen her all but running and trying to suppress tears after the soldiers made bets on which of them would die first come the attack. He felt pity for her: She had no idea what death was like and all the stories couldn't prepare her for the reality of what it was like for people to give up their lives either for a cause they believed in or because they were paid to.
"Not enjoying the party?" He looked up and found Wales smiling down at him, "I suppose I can't blame you. For a last celebration, there's an air of melancholy and fear that anyone can see," He laughed bitterly, "But enough about that. Miss. Valliere introduced you as her Familiar, did she not? I must say I've never seen a human Familiar in all my life. Tristain is an odd land," Raziel said nothing, "Ah, forgive me for being so blunt. I was simply curious."
"..." Raziel remained quiet. He didn't really know what to say, to be honest. From what he heard there was no such thing as Undead in this land and that these people were dying full with the knowledge that none of them had even the slightest chance of coming back. Much as he hated his Undeath, he had to admit that he found the lack of fear dying gave him to be convenient.
"...I saw you talking to Miss. Elizabeth," He gave the prince a confused glance, "Elizabeth is Albert's mother," He clarified. The Undead's face twitched in annoyance, "Haha, I can tell by your reaction that you disagree with her decision: I do as well," He doubted that... "You...probably don't believe me, right?" Raziel didn't even have to nod, "Well, I suppose I've bothered you enough. I was going to invite you to go with me to do something, but I suppose I might be pushing my luck."
"...Do what?" Despite the situation, he found himself becoming curious all the same.
"A trip into town," Wales answered, "I was going to do something and I wondered if you wanted to go with me. I'd ask Miss. Valliere or Mr. Gramont, but both of them appear busy right now. And I have no doubt that the Viscount is busy doing whatever it is he's doing, so I'd rather not bother him," He tapped Raziel's shoulder good-naturedly, "I was hoping to have someone who isn't from the palace accompany me. However, I understand your concern and know that you have little reason to trust me."
"..." He was quiet once again. By all rights he shouldn't trust him, but...the prince was going to die tomorrow and he doubted that the prince planned to run away: He showed no signs of lying when he said that he planned to die with his subjects come the battle tomorrow. Going with him would be harmless and likely wouldn't hurt him in any significant way. Besides, his master was already in her room and she had the Viscount to protect her if they suddenly got attacked.
"...I will go with you..." He answered after a moment silence. After all, what would the harm be in indulging a dying man's request?
"You will? Wonderful!" Wales laughed and stood up quickly, "Come then, we must make sure to disguise ourselves. Reconquista controls the town now and if I don't alter my appearance then I have no doubt that we will land ourselves in no small amount of trouble. I should have enough materials left that the both of us can disguise ourselves."
Raziel stood up from his sitting position and followed the crown prince. He sincerely hoped he wasn't going to regret this.
In her room, Louise cried. She wept not for herself, but for the people that would die come tomorrow morning. All of them...they were good people, whose only crime was the fact that they were loyal to the king even unto the bitter end. She had no idea how King James the I's rule was like, but surely he was a good person and a benevolent ruler if they were willing to follow him even into death's embrace.
She wondered how the princess would take the news. She wanted to bring Prince Wales back, to give even one glimpse of hope to the princess after all the trials she faced and would face in the coming days. But he had refused, stating that he had wanted to die with honor and that the princess made no request for him to come back with them. He had no idea whether he was speaking the truth or not, but it was his choice and there was nothing she could do to convince him. She was an ambassador, but by all rights she was simply a glorified courier. She had no power here.
The sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts. Wiping away her tears, she did her best to smile at her fiance as he walked into the room slowly. How odd: Despite their blossoming relationship, Jean-Jaques hadn't even so much as kissed her in the days they spent together. Sure they were going to sleep together at the inn, but he made it clear that it was simply sleeping and nothing else. Well, it made sense to her. After all, he was a true gentleman and, barring her ritual binding (Which didn't count since it was a sacred ritual and she was kissing a corpse), she was hoping to save both her first kiss and her chastity for marriage.
"Louise, are you alright?" He was quick to notice her tears and moved to wipe them away from her cheeks.
"I-I'm fine..." She managed to reply shakily, although even now suppressing her tears became harder with every passing second, "I-I'm s-s-sorry for acting like this."
"I understand," He patted her head in an effort to console her, "Seeing all this must have been too much for you. First that attack at the inn and now this. I want you to trust me that everything will be alright," His fiance must have thought that she could convince at least the prince to come back with them, that she would come here as a messenger but come back as a savior. It wasn't a selfish request: She just wanted to make sure that all off them managed to make it back out alive and that they save as many people as they could. The desire was easy to understand.
"...I trust you," She closed her eyes and fell into his embrace. It was the first time she'd actually told him that. During the days they spent together there was no doubt that she still held feelings for him, but her trust in him was harder to restore due to the ten years they spent apart from one another. But during that attack...he was the first one at her side and proved his integrity when he refused to endanger civilians in his way just to make their escape easier. She could trust him, there was no doubt about that.
"Louise, is the letter with you?" She nodded, "Do you want me to keep it in possession for you?"
"...No, it's alright," She forced herself to smile and refused, "You're already doing a lot: Protecting me, making sure the castle is secure, undertaking this mission in the first place despite the dangers. I couldn't ask you to do that," She rubbed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, "I'll be alright. I just hope that we can all come back to Tristain and give the princess back the letter."
"Of course we will," He pulled her in another hug, one that she reciprocated happily. She could see why Big sis Catt was so happy when they marriage was first announced. Even when Wardes had become her fiancee after her older sister's sickness took hold, she never held a grudge and told her that she hoped Jean-Jaques would make her happy. And right now, she was happier than she'd been in a long while.
"What do you think we should do after this?" Louise asked, "Will you be busy? When the princess marries I expect that classes will be put on hold so we can celebrate it. I...want to see you again. Maybe we can meet before the celebrations? There will be a festival and I heard that many of the nobles in Tristain will attend. Do you wish to go together? I heard that there will be many amusements and it will give us a chance to put all this behind us."
"...Of course, Louise. We'll spend it together, just like we should. Nothing would make me happier," At his answer, Louise finally felt her burden lift. Slowly, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her. Right, Wardes would protect her and then they would get married like their parents wanted. She would get married ahead of her bully of a big sister and then she would rub it in her face.
He looked down at her sleeping form before laying her down on the bed. He would wake her tomorrow, after everything was settled. But right now he needed to open one of the sealed off passages so that the unlikely pair he assigned the mission to could do their job successfully. Sighing, he stood up from the bed and made his way to the passage, resisting the urge to crush the theatre mask he stored inside his cloak. It was mostly a formality, especially since all it did was hide his face and nothing else. He supposed it did help in making his figure more mysterious and imposing.
But after this came the hard part. The Prince wouldn't make it tomorrow's battle and that letter would have to be spread in order for Reconquista's victory over Tristain to be absolute. To do that he would have to kill the prince early in order to ensure that the royalists wouldn't spirit him away and then take the letter from Louise, either by coercion or by force. They made a big talk about sacrificing themselves, but he didn't doubt that a well-meaning guard or soldier would knock the prince out and forcefully stow him in one of the boats if they were given the chance. He needed to avoid that.
His hands shook as his grip on the mask tightened. There was no turning back from this and, in order to achieve his goals, he had to make sure all of their efforts were a success. Tonight would be his last night as a member of the Griffon Knights.
Wardes heart was filled with guilt.
"Hey, pass me that bottle over there."
Raziel stopped undressing just long enough to toss the bottle at the prince, earning him a quick 'thank you' in return. Frowning, he stripped off his white tunic and vest before grabbing for one of the more rough black shirt and pants. The prince had been insistent that he change clothes as well since the clothes he wore would easily mark him as a foreigner. He doubted anyone could tell he was a foreigner at first glance, but he humored him anyway since he saw no harm in it. It wasn't as if one set of clothes would protect him any better over the other.
"Sorry about this. I thought we would have more extra clothing on storage," Wales apologized, already opening the bottle that Raziel had tossed him, "This is a magical dye that will let us change the color of our hair. Changing faces is a square class spell and I only come up to a triangle, so I won't be able to cast it. There should be one more bottle there; just drop the liquid over your hair and let it do the rest."
Raziel searched for the remaining bottle and found it under another pile of dusty clothing. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he opened it and dropped the liquid over his head before tossing the empty bottle against the wall. With that done, he picked up the pair of dark trousers and put them on quickly, uncomfortably noting that the fabric seemed to cling to his legs in a tight manner. He suppressed the urge to frown and tried to move his legs, doing his best to make sure that the pants wouldn't restrict his movement too much.
"You chose that pair? I did not take you for liking clingier materials," He joked. Raziel didn't laugh, "It doesn't matter: We'll be changing clothes after we get back and then we can burn all of these things," He gestured to the clothing around them, "But until then, we have to make sure that no one can feasibly recognize us - Whether they be from the castle or from Reconquista."
"I do not see the point of me changing," Raziel grunted, already putting on the closest pair of boots he could find, "I am not a resident of this land and no one would recognize me even if I do not change my appearance," He doubted anyone who knew him in the past would recognize him at all, given his altered appearance. He ruffled his his now dark hair in annoyance and scratched at the eyepatch covering his right eye in irritation. At least it the prince didn't make him remove it.
"Just humor me then," Wales smiled cheerily back at him, "Disguising myself is one of my hobbies. No one in the castle really knows and the only person I ever told was Ann...or Princess Henrietta, as people call her," The Undead twitched at the word 'princess', though he gave no other reaction, "It would feel...I guess you could say 'incomplete' if I was the only one to do it," He grabbed a piece long piece of blue clothe before tying it to his forehead in a makeshift bandana, "Come, we should go before the night ends on us."
Raziel had to admit, he could barely recognize the prince: He had traded his blue noble clothing for a simple loose shirt and a pain of dark brown trousers and boots. His blond hair had also been changed from a golden yellow to a reddish brown, making him hard to recognize at a glance. Raziel moved uncomfortably in his own dark clothing and made sure to follow the prince.
"Are you sure that you're okay with that attire?" Wales cupped his jaw gently and observed his face, causing him to nearly hit the prince out of instinct, "With your features you can pretend to be Romalian, and with your build I'm sure you can put on even a dress and no one could tell you aren't of the feminine persuasion. It would help disguise and I'm sure it will be far more comfortable compared to that tight clothing you wear."
"I am positive," He shook off Wales hand before fastening Derflinger around his back. He had experience with wearing a dress before - Dusk of Oolacile's enchanted attire immediately came to mind - but he didn't exactly prefer it nor was he proud of it. The only reason he even wore them was due to the power they held, and without it he wouldn't have bothered even taking a second glance at the impractical looking attire. He didn't fancy wearing a dress unless it was enchanted to be stronger than plate armor.
"You did not tell me how we are to travel back to the town," Raziel commented. The entrance to the passage Wardes had shown them was far from the town, enough that there weren't any noticeable buildings by the time they arrived at the hidden passageway. The night wouldn't last forever and if they decided to walk then the prince would miss the climactic battle he was so insistent on dying for.
"We'll be using one of the smaller ships," Wales answered back, "It should be enough to hold three people, though it'll be just the two of us-"
"You are lying," Raziel suddenly blurted out.
"Um...excuse me?"
"You said that it would just be the two of us: That is a lie," Wales' smile cracked ever so slightly at the accusation, but he managed to keep it together for the most part, "Thinking back on it, you never told me the reason for your visit to the town. It is not to celebrate, as you have already done so extensively, so you must have a task that requires you to be in town. You will either get something...or you will leave something behind." Wales twitched at the last accusation.
"...A blunt accusation. May I ask what brought this on?" Raziel didn't reply. He wasn't going to answer unless the prince explained first, "I can see that you're sure about this. You did make one mistake, however: I'm not planning on dropping something of-"
"You are planning to drop someone off," Raziel finished for him, "One of the first things you talked about was that you disagreed with the deicision of this woman called Elizabeth," He looked down briefly before a small smile mad its way to his face, "You asked me to come with you after you said that you saw me talking with her and only after I showed displeasure at the mention of her name."
"I never took you to be a scholar, Mr. Raziel," The prince didn't deny it, "You're right: I was planning to kidnap a child from his mother and take him into town so that I can give him away to some people I know. I admit it. Are you happy now?" The self-hating tone was evident, although not completely genuine, "Although the displeasure you showed when she told you of her plan made me believe that you didn't agree with her."
"You want to take a child away from his mother," There was no judgement in Raziel's voice. Wales was making the choice to decide the child's fate, but Raziel could hardly blame him considering the fanaticism the woman displayed, "I assume that she is not aware of your actions," He wasn't going to judge him. He'd lived long enough to know that there was no such thing as an absolute good or evil, that dark was not more malevolent than light. He wouldn't call the prince's actions completely right, but calling it wrong wouldn't have been accurate either.
"Better that he lives hating me than dying for me and loving me," Wales continued to walk, Raziel trailing behind him, "I have friends in town. They have no idea who I truly am, but they trust me and I asked them this favor as a final request," He smiled sadly, "They think I'm moving away, that I found my family in Romalia and that this is my last night here. Two of them, an older male by the name of Amaury and his sister Abigail, agreed to take him in as a last favor to me and our friendship. He'll be taken care of and get a chance to live a life, away from all this."
"Why do you care so much for a child that is not yours?"
"Because he didn't make his own choice. All of us chose to stay here knowing what will happen, but he doesn't know; at least not truly. He thinks this is a fantasy story and that we will somehow prevail against Reconquista," He opened the door and pointed at the small boat, "He's been fed a sleeping potion and he'll be asleep for a few hours. That should give us enough time to make our way to town and give him to them," He sighed, "Then I suppose I'll have a few drinks...play out the part of a departing friend and leave no loose ends.
"...I wonder if he will understand," Raziel said.
"I expect that when he awakes he will hate whoever tore him away from his remaining family," Another bitter smile, "Mr. Raziel, I make no claim to thinking I am right by doing this, nor am I under the illusion that I'm some messiah taking care of the weak. You may disagree with my actions and I'm not forcing you to go. Your life is your own. I asked for your help because I can't ask anyone else in the castle."
"...I am going with you," Raziel knew he was going to regret getting himself involved in this, but he nodded all the same, "Is there anything else you have to say before we go?"
"Hmm...ah, yes, please make sure to call me Haytham," Wales replied, "They have no idea who I truly am and I intend to keep it that way. For the duration of the trip you will also call yourself Connor," Raziel gave a slightly displeased look at the name, "I apologize for the odd naming. I told them before that I was trying to find my cousin from Romalia and that he had made contact a week ago. They'd asked for a name and that was the one I gave in the spur of the moment."
"...You are sure that this is your wish?" Wales paused. Raziel saw his hands shake before he turned back to him, still smiling, "Of course. I get to say a final goodbye that leaves them with no regrets and tomorrow I will die without hesitation and with honor. I have no regrets."
...
He was lying.
"How long do we have to wait?" Fouquet mumbled irritably for what seemed like the dozenth time that night. Standing beside her, Tabitha barely glanced at her direction before resuming her reading. Frowning, the Mage thief poured another cup before downing it quickly in one gulp. She didn't want to drink right now - keeping focus was the most important thing at the current situation - but a noblewoman who went to a bar with her manservant only to sit down and not drink at all was way too suspicious. Right now she was getting tired of being forced to drink the cheap wine she bought.
"Patience," Tabitha intoned quietly, earning her an annoyed glance from the older female. She had the easy job: All she had to do was stand there and read her book while she had to keep looking for their contact. The damned masked man only told them that they would recognize him by the 'twin moons' or some other such nonsense. She never understood why their benefactors never just made things clear and concise for them.
She and the blue haired kid were getting occasional glances, but for the most part they were being ignored. She had Albionese features, though that was obvious given that she had been born here, and the fact that she was openly sitting at a bar and not squatting in Newcastle made it obvious that she wasn't a royalist nor was she a supporter of the royal family. All of the nobles that still retained loyalty to the Tudor line were either in newcastle or fighting their own wars elsewhere, not drinking in bars with their manservant.
Although she did understand the glances some of the patrons were throwing at her partner's way. Servants were illiterate for the most part, meaning that seeing one so young reading a book casually when he was supposed to be attending to his mistress would of course glean some interest. Still, the interest died down when they realized that the two were completely ignoring them.
A shuffling of the chair across from her signified the end of their 'alone time'. Warily, Fouquet looked up and came face to face with a male figure wearing a thick cloak that obstructed most of his features, "I presume that you are the one I was sent to meet?" The voice that came was boyish and young; almost too young given his involvement in a rebellion. What was with Reconquista and sending teenagers to do their messenger work? She still had uncomfortable memories from her time in Cesare's camp.
"That depends on your purpose here," She glanced at Tabitha. The younger girl immediately closed her book and took a the seat next to the both of them. If he attacked them or tried anything then he wasn't going to succeed, "Our masked benefactor told us only that we would recognize the one who was sent to meet us by the appearance of the 'twin moons'. Would you mind explaining that?"
"I think it would be better to show you," He raised his head to look her in eyes. Fouquet immediately felt the urge to reel back as she caught sight of the dual colored eyes: Moon eyes. The superstition went that those who possessed the left red eye and right blue eye were harbingers of misfortune and that associating with them was doomed to end in tragedy. While she didn't put much stock in religious tripe, she still felt wary all the same.
At her side, Tabitha looked at him ever so briefly before staring back at Fouquet. It figured that the young chevalier wouldn't let superstitions and hearsay affect her behavior at all. Shaking her head, Fouquet took a deep breath and looked back at him. He was just a messenger boy, after all, no one important in the grand scheme of things. She doubted that she would see him again after this.
"So that's what they meant," She tried to sound casual, "So, what's your message for us?"
"You will do the task in a few hours time," He pointed at the outside window, "The late night is ending and it will soon be early morning. Reconquista's final assault on newcastle will take place soon and I suggest that you try to sneak into the vault either before the attack or during the attack itself, if only to make sure that you don't get caught," He smiled underneath his hood, "One of our operatives is inside and he will open the passage that you will use."
"And which passage is that?" She asked.
"This one," He pulled out a rough map from his cloak before opening it at the table, "Most of the passages in the castle have already been blocked either by the royal family or Reconquista themselves. So far there are at least two remaining passages," He pointed to one of the X's on the map, "This is the one he and the group he infiltrated used. No doubt the soldiers are watching it now or that they're wary of being attacked from that side," He pointed to the second X, southwest of the first map, "This is the one you will use. It rarely shows use and the spies we have in place found it by sheer chance. None of the other royalists know of its location, so it is the perfect pathway to get through without any hostility."
Fouquet slid the map closer to her and stared at the entrance's location. It would take them at least an hour of walking to get to the passage entrance, maybe faster if they used that Wind Dragon, and the assault would take place once the sun began to rise - The perfect setting for Reconquista's victory, or so the masked employer told them. They had at the very least a couple of hours left before they had to make the trek there.
"Well, now that that's done, what say we have a few drinks?" She nearly dropped the map at the sudden announcement. What in the void? How could he be so casual about this? "Oh, don't look at me as if I have lost my mind. We were told to meet at a bar and it would be a crime if I didn't take the chance to buy you two ladies a drink," He gestured for one of the barmaids, "You don't have to introduce yourselves, I understand that you're wary about divulging your names given the circumstances we face."
Tabitha raised an eyebrow slightly at the remark. He could tell that she was female? The clothing was meant to disguise both her status and her gender.
"I trust wine will be okay? If the miss wants to avoid drinking then it's fine with me," He gestured to Fouquet's half empty glass, "I trust the young miss will want a drink? You have nothing else to do till you have to leave, right? And I have no desire to poison or impede you in any way. Your success is vital to our employers and I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed.
"...Fine, whatever," Fouquet nodded with a sigh. If the courier wanted to treat them to more than cheap wine then who was she to complain? She was sure that she knew her limits and that she wouldn't get drunk on the-
What. In. The. Void.
The reason for her surprise was the face underneath the hood of the cloak. Gaining their agreement, the moon-eyed individual took off his hood in order to make himself more comfortable. A handsome, almost womanly face greeted them, but that wasn't what concerned the thief. It was hard to tell at first glance, but he looked way too similar to him - The monster that violated her in a most unspeakable way.
"Hmm, what's wrong?" He looked up at both of them and smiled casually at her shocked face, "Ah, you probably weren't expecting someone so young, right? Well, please don't let my age color your opinion of me. I assure you that I'm very competent and that should you need assistance then I won't hesitate to aid you.
"You...You look almost like..." She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. No, she was just imagining things. She tried to quickly calm her rapidly beating heart. That monstrous Familiar was far away, likely with his master at that school of hers. There was no way he would be in Albion, let alone sitting across from her at a table. Besides, she thought, she was sure he wasn't burdened with moon eyes. If there was one thing she could remember it was that he had abnormal yellow eyes.
"...Familiar," Tabitha remarked quietly, looking up from her place on the table.
He looked at them in confusion for the briefest of moments before he shrugged. As long as they did their task then he had no problems with them. Smiling, the (unknown to them) Romalian priest flexed his the fingers on his right hand. He didn't like this, but if it was what his master willed then he would obey. All to make sure that his master's goal would succeed.
Christ, this chapter became way too long and now I had to split it again :/ So yeah, another half-filler chapter. I'll try to do better next time. I hoped to finish both segments, but it's already reached over 11k words and I don't want to make it absurdly long.
Time to answer some questions:
Necrofantasia - There's a difference between thinking of killing someone and actually doing it: I'm sure any bullied kid has thought of killing or hurting those who caused them pain. By that logic, killing for your country/during a war is different from going to a loyal noble's estate and massacring all of his guards. Karin is a War Hero, and most of her accomplishments were apparently about monster extermination. If Karin was a renowned mercenary then Louise probably wouldn't feel very proud, but a War Hero by their standards is one who is absolutely loyal to the crown and one who did great feats.
By contrast, Raziel went into the house of an Imperial Messenger and killed all his guards, along with the Count himself. While he did make a point that the Count did horrible things, it doesn't change the fact that he wasn't doing it for justice or any other concept: He did it for Siesta, so he essentially killed a noble and his entire cadre of guards for a servant girl. It may not make a difference to you, but killing Mott IS a major crime because he just went to the house of a noble and it ended with said noble and all his guards being graphically killed. In modern terms that would make it okay for me to kill a CEO once I found out he was a slave trader; you may agree or disagree, but killing all his guards without verifying if they all knew what was happening/they were in on it would also make me a criminal.
To finish: Louise has a point and Raziel isn't always right. I dislike Louise too, but twisting her words around to make her look negative solves nothing.
Guest - Maybe, maybe not. Story-wise it doesn't matter since there are no stats anyway and Raziel's body can take a pounding well enough that he might as well be wearing armor.
Demons Anarchy - He said thank you as early as about chapter three to Siesta, and he did so later to Louise in chapter twelve: It's nothing special. Also, why would it matter? As he makes clear he only cares that the place he's in is 'Not Lordran'. Once it fulfills those requirements you can put him in Skyrim and he wouldn't care if it was half filled with racist Nords. Oh, and can you lower the caps use? I can understand well enough without them.
Anonymous - Don't have one, so I don't know who can do it.
Futon Lord - Dunno how that relates.
Wormcake - She kinda is a twat in canon till Tarbes, at which point she softens up a bit more.
Joey 066 - Not sure, but a soapstone is planned for later. You'll see.
Strogg Grunt - We all make mistakes :)
Camo 005 - Nope, he sadly never got it :( He tried to take it once, but after she glared at him he let go and promised never to do it again. It remains one of his most deepest regrets even to this day.
Madlink007 - And who would those be?
HUNK of Chernobyl - Thing is, we don't know if appearing at a dead bonfire is just gameplay and story segregation or not. We can't discount the fact that the producers didn't know what to do if you died after that bonfire went out and it was the last one used. In either case Mott's pisaca was an artificial firekeeper, meaning her death likely destroyed it entirely. She didn't even have a Firekeeper Soul.
Jaedon - You'll see later.
Wert - As opposed to what? A strong protagonist for the sake of wish fulfillment? Go read some other crossover fics if you want that. I made it clear from the word go that this takes place after the 'Link the Fire' ending and that he would be weaker because of it. Don't like, don't read.
Gryf - Yes. If there's nothing else then I hope I answered your question.
Joe - No problem :) In either case I don't think he'll be lopping off his arm to make bonfires.
Bob - I...cannot unsee that :X Either way it won't work since Guiche's straight as a sword and has Montmorency. Raziel also doesn't really get the concept of sexuality, romance and lust. 'Charm' magic was shown to be ineffective since he lacked most hormones. That and he's, mentally at least, an adult. He called Kirche a child during one of the past chapters, so that should give an indication of how he regards physical appearance to maturity.