A late happy halloween to everyone :) Well, I figured I should pop this out before Fallout 4 and AC Syndicate for PC come out. I'm not gonna be leaving my room for a month :P Hopefully this tides people over while I'm on my impromptu break.
Liberating Albion hadn't been what she'd expected.
Granted she didn't know what she could truly expect fighting against heretical conquerors who killed the rightful heirs to Brimir. Had she been a fan of those unrealistic adventure novels she would have expected a lot more fanfare, perhaps even legendary battles where all the evildoers perished while those on the side of good and justice never suffered a single casualty.
Of course, reality was never as simple as that.
She'd done her best to provide the illusion, but it was far too late for many of the crew members who were caught up in the fighting. When she finally awakened hours later Julio informed her that they'd been transferred over to another ship due to the entire crew perishing in the previous one. Though he did have the courtesy to inform her that Raziel was fine apart from a few superficial scratches and tears.
Still, it was nothing compared to their reception when finally arrived in Albion proper.
She expected the people to be happy to see them. After all wouldn't the commoners be happy to finally be liberated from the tyranny of Reconquista? They were nothing more than power-hungry murderers, killing and stealing whatever they wanted in order to fulfill their own desires. Not only did they force the people to join their armies and aid them in their conquests but they had the sheer audacity to kill the rightful ruling family of Albion! Shouldn't the people have been happy then that they came to put an end to their rule.
Apparently not given the rather icy reception they received upon their arrival.
Louise shivered and rubbed her cold hands together. Winter was coming to Albion and it was much colder here than it was in Tristain and the other lowlands; even through her jackets and pants she could still feel the absurd chill. Were the people of Albion simply used to such freezing temperatures or was she simply weak to the cold? Either way she couldn't wait to go back to the main camp and, more importantly, find some rest in her personal tent.
It would've also helped if the villagers didn't look at her like they wanted to throw her off the flying continent.
Louise tightened her grip on her mantle and pulled it closer to her. She thought to take a walk around the village, perhaps buy some supplies with the ecu she'd saved up, before the next part of the campaign finally started. According to what the commanders told her this village would function as their main outpost during their time in Albion; partly out of convenience and mostly due to its proximity to the port they had captured.
Evidently the villagers themselves didn't appreciate that. They only took one look at her hair and mantle (which she'd refused to leave behind at the academy) before their expressions were permanently etched into ugly scowls and glares. She would've disregarded it if only a couple of people did it, but it seems as if everyone barring some rare children and elders shared the same reaction upon seeing her - Looking her up and down, their eyes judgmental, before their dispositions immediately soured.
At times she could make out words, mostly in the line of "Noble bastards" or "Tristanian murderers" among other such insults. She wanted to rebuke them, but even with Raziel with her she didn't fancy trying to agitate an entire town of disgruntled Albionese...though more for their safety than hers. She had a feeling that Raziel wouldn't be too keen on standing back if anyone attacked her and at the very least he would break a few limbs. At worst they'd probably end up with the entire village ravaged.
Speaking of her Familiar...
She turned back to look at him. He was shadowing her as always, but there was something different about him. He'd grown quiet...much more quiet than normal, she meant. While he was never the most chatty person even on a good day his current behavior made him seem like a chatty drunk previously. Ever since they'd arrived in Albion he hadn't said a word, even when Julio tried to bait him into responding.
It was almost eerie. He'd even dispensed with his previous actions such as mimicking breathing or blinking and at first glance he seemed more like a Golem she had summoned. She'd tried to get him to talk to her, but he either responded with terse replies or ignored her outright. She would have been offended if her worry didn't supersede any anger she felt. This wasn't normal...well, normal wasn't what she would call either of them, but this was far above even their 'normal'.
"...Why did you leave Derflinger?" She finally spoke up. She'd noticed that he didn't bring the chatty piece of junk with him when he came with her to town but she was reluctant to point it out at the time.
Raziel gave her blank stare before responding softly, "...He was hurting me." He looked away pointedly.
Her brows knotted worriedly. He was 'hurting him'? What in helheim did that mean? "He was hurting you? What, he was insulting your or something? I know he can be a real jerk but I thought you got along?"
"...I do not hate Derflinger and he does not hate me, but..." He winced, "...Nevermind, it is difficult to explain."
"What do you mean? Raziel, you can tell me. Maybe I can help-"
Her sentence was left unfinished as a particularly burly man bumped his shoulder against hers roughly as he passed by her. She barely heard another muttering of "Fucking murderers" before her palms skidded against the ground painfully to keep herself from hitting the earth.
They hated them. It was Reconquista's fault that their family and friends had been drafted to fight in this damnable war but they blamed them for their deaths. It wasn't their fault...wasn't her fault...but they needed someone to blame and Reconquista was stoking the fires that burned inside them. All they knew was that their loved ones were dead and Tristain was an easy scapegoat.
She bit her tongue to keep herself from screaming a whole slew of curses. It wasn't their fault; before she would have hated them for their actions, considered them ungrateful ingrates, but not anymore. Reconquista was to blame; Cromwell and whoever it was that was pulling his strings. In other circumstances they would have been allies and...she knew that it was only grief. The sight of the dead bodies in Tarbes still haunted her and it only grew worse with the realization that not all of them were evil, much as they wanted them to be.
Sadly, her Familiar didn't seem to share her sentiments.
She looked up when she heard the sounds of something smashing against the wooden wall, "Raziel, what are you doing!?" Her eyes widened as she watched her Familiar repeatedly slam the burly man against the closest building, his expression fierce. The man tried to fight back, punching the shorter male's head repeatedly, but he showed no signs of even noticing the ineffectual attacks.
"Raziel, stop!" She rushed forward and grabbed his right arm, trying to pull him back.
"...He hurt you." He turned him around and smashed his face against the wood.
"I'm fine! Don't hurt him!" She doubled her attempts at pulling him back, "This isn't going to solve anything! Stop it!"
Raziel's hand clenched tightly, nearly ripping the fabric of the man's tunic, before he finally released him. The man fell into the ground in a collapsed heap, coughing and wheezing. Louise glanced at him briefly before she pulled Raziel back once more.
She didn't stop dragging him until they finally left the village's border. The stares of the villagers followed them and Louise couldn't help but cringe; great, if they didn't hate them before then there was no doubt they destroyed any reservations they might have had. She let go of her Familiar and took a deep breath to try and calm herself. She had to admit she was tempted to incite violence as well, but she was better than that!
"What in helheim is wrong with you?" She turned to face him, trying to keep her voice level, "He bumped into me, so what? It's no reason to start a fight!"
"...He hurt you," He repeated.
"God, Raziel, it was just a scrape! You don't have to-"
"Your hands are bleeding."
She blinked, "What?" She looked down at her palms and cringed. While it wasn't what one would call a serious injury the scratches in her hands were just deep enough that blood began to pour out. Not severely, but enough to sting. She must have scratched herself against a rock or something when she fell. She bit her lip; how did she not notice these beforehand? Perhaps the panic had suppressed the pain?
"...I am sorry. I should have been more careful." He traced a hand against the shallow cuts, marring his own pale skin with blood. She flinched at the stinging sensation, "If I still had a talisman I would be able to heal you..."
"N-Nevermind that, let's just go back." She shook him off and pressed her hands against the folds of her jacket. It was only a few scratches, nothing she couldn't handle with a few drops of healing tonic.
The walk back to the camp was spent in uncomfortable silence. Louise wanted to say something, anything to put a gap in the silence, but nothing came to mind. As soon as they neared the edge of the tents her wounds finally settled into a dull throbbing and she let out a sigh of relief.
"Excuse me, Miss. Valliere. Message for you."
She just barely turned around before a parchment was shoved into her arms quickly, "Hey, what the-" She looked up but the messenger was already leaving, no doubt to deliver more correspondences. She looked at Raziel, who merely gave a shrug in response, before opening the letter.
"It says here that we're being summoned to the prisoner's tent..." Her mouth dipped into a frown. That didn't sound pleasant, "One of the prisoners is asking to speak to...the lone survivor?" She gave Raziel a suspicious glance. Another shrug, "He has information that he claims is important and the commanders want us to investigate. He refuses to speak to anyone else..."
"...What do you wish to do?" He asked.
"What else can we do?" She rolled up the parchment and stuffed it into her pocket, "Come on, lets go see what this prisoner wants."
Her dreams were getting worse.
Henrietta leaned forward on the table, fingers massaging her temples. There had been a definite lull in activities ever since the war in Albion started - It was enough to drive her mad. Cardinal Mazarin encouraged her to use the time in order to rest and recuperate but she honestly couldn't find it in her to do so. Her mind was preoccupied with the events in Albion and her best friend, among other things.
That and sleeping only seemed to worsen her condition.
"Ugh..." She held back a grimace. Every time she attempted sleep she would be assaulted by more dreams, but ultimately what frustrated her to no end was her lack of knowledge for the reason. Certainly she'd had dreams as a child, rather frequently in fact, but it had been years since then and ever since she reached ten years of age they had disappeared completely. She chalked it up to being nothing more than a phase of childhood, the workings of an overactive imagination, and forgot about them as she grew older.
But now they came back in full force. Ever since this war in Albion started the visions came back in full-force and it was beginning to become difficult for her to separate reality from her imagination. She didn't even have to sleep anymore for the visions to come; one moment she could be sitting on her desk trying to read the reports on the conflict and the next she would be looking down at a kingdom that was unfamiliar to her.
She needed to calm down. She grabbed her cup of tea with a shaky hands and took a hesitant sip - Since sleep provided her no relief she tried to use tea in order to keep herself awake. It wasn't the perfect solution, but what else could she do?
...She wondered where her father and brothers went. ...As a matter of fact, where was she? She didn't recognize this place...
The door to the terrace opened slowly. Henrietta's gaze shifted from her cup to the rigid figure of Agnes walking towards her, "Your Majesty, I hope I'm not interrupting." She bowed slightly and held out a piece of parchment, "As you requested, the current reports written by the commanders themselves."
"Ah, yes, thank you. I appreciate the trouble you went but...shouldn't you give these to father?" Agnes looked at her confusion, "The war with the demons in Izalith, yes? Would my father not be the one to benefit from this knowledge?"
"Y-Your Majesty? Your father has been dead for many years now..." Agnes coughed awkwardly.
"What? Oh, don't be silly. My father is risking his life right now fighting with his knights against those monsters poor Quela summoned. He wouldn't be..." She trailed off. Her eyes suddenly widened and she shook her head roughly, "I...I mean, thank you, Agnes." She hurriedly grabbed the parchment, "I...apologize for any odd things I might have said. I haven't been getting enough rest recently..."
"Are you certain you're alright, your Majesty?" Agnes asked, clearly worried.
"Yes. Just dreams and too much reading into fictional novels." She forced a laugh, "Information on the conflict should be just the sobering I need."
"If you're sure..." She bowed once more but made no attempt to leave.
Henrietta gave the knight a tired smile and unfurled the parchment. She was truly fortunate to have a dedicated knight. God only knew that she didn't have that in her early days in Anor Londo-
"...It appears the campaign is under our favor." Henrietta muttered. While she wouldn't put it past the commanders to lie to her in order to more easily receive their prized medals and commendations there was always a grain of truth in the mire of lies. At the very least she could reasonably assume that they weren't lying about managed to bypass the fleet and land in Albion proper.
She couldn't help but notice that the casualties were left deliberately vague: No list of names, not even a concrete number or general range of the dead. One sentence mentioned that the casualties were 'acceptable' and another mentioned that 'those that have been lost will prove easily replaceable'. She bit her lower lip; she felt guilty for their deaths, but a part of her felt even more guilt for not truly caring so long as Louise's name wouldn't come back with the casualty list. It was selfish, she knew it, but what were the lives of a few dozen strangers to that of her best friend?
She continued to scan the parchment with one hand while she grabbed for her cup with the other. They had set up camp in the village near the port they had taken. No attacks by Albion so far, so right now they were taking the time to reinforce their position and even bolster their troops with Albionese citizens willing to fight with Reconquista. She idly noted that it was apparently unsuccessful, though no reason was given.
More difficulties with war. It was just like the war against the demons; no one but her father and his knights were brave enough to fight-
"Sister, please do not leave me!"
"We must leave this place, little brother. Father's sacrifice shall be honored, but it was in vain."
"Please, do not say that...we can save Lordran...save its people...but I cannot undertake this alone."
"I am sorry...I cannot. Anor Londo nears its end and I will not stay to watch its fall."
"Sister, please...please do not leave me-"
"Your Majesty!"
Henrietta blinked, her gaze slowly focusing once more. She looked down at her hands and winced; the parchment had been drenched in tea, but that was nothing compared to what happened to her right hand: She had crushed the teacup, tea and broken shards staining her lap. Her right hand shook; she could see a few shards embedded into her palm, causing her to bleed profusely.
Agnes watched through stunned eyes as Henrietta pulled the shards out one by one, ignoring the blood pouring out of the cuts the porcelain had made. It was only when she was about to pull out the last one that Agnes finally managed to move, "Your Majesty, stop!" She grabbed the young woman's hand and held it in place, "Please, we need to get you to a healer! You'll only make the wound worse-"
"It's alright, Agnes." She pulled her arm back and, before Agnes could regain her composure, pulled the last shard out. Despite the blood stained her white dress she gave the knight another tired smile, "It doesn't hurt..."
"But-"
Another flash of light, just like before. Agnes watched as the Queen's hand was covered in a bright light, all too similar to the light she'd used to heal her. When the light finally faded her wounds had disappeared as well, leaving nothing but the now-drying blood.
"Your Majesty, what is going on?" She pressed. Henrietta didn't answer, "Please, talk to me. I've seen this light before; Chesare used it to help us when the school was taken by mercenaries, but how are you capable of such things?"
"I...I don't know." She bit her lower lip, "Ever since this war started I've been experiencing...visions. Before when I healed you I truly didn't know what came over me or what this...bizarre magic could be. In all honesty, I'm scared, Agnes..."
"Your Majesty..."
"But now is not the time to worry about this." Her voice hardened, "I do not know what this is, but I do know that it is not fatal. Dreams cannot hurt me." A hint of uncertainty seeped into her tone, "Tell no one about this. Until this war is over we cannot afford to incite a panic. Only you know about this, and if possible I would like your assistance in this."
"Your wish is my desire, Your Majesty." Agnes nodded.
"Good...good." She let out a held breath, "Keep an eye out for me. If you see anything...if I act oddly, then please do anything to bring me back to my senses. I can survive a few bad dreams, but your help would be very appreciated."
"Of course..."
"Thank you." She gave the knight a relieved smile, "For now I would like some privacy. I should change clothes before Cardinal Mazarin realizes anything happened..."
The prisoner wasn't who she thought it would be.
Louise looked awkwardly at the Winged One sitting across from her and her Familiar. Without even being given a proper explanation the pair were shuffled into the small tent and told that they were assigned to get information from him. The guards had also left, ensuring that only the three of them were present in the small interior. The young man had his wrists and feet bound together by coils of rope, but judging by his expression he wouldn't have attempted an escape even if they ordered him to.
His broken eyes looked up blankly. Louise offered him an uneasy smile while Raziel continued to look away. She didn't know much about the Winged People - Unlike Elves or Vampires (not including her older sisters), Winged Ones were one of the few intelligent Firstborns that weren't actually in conflict with humans. While Louise wouldn't say they were friends a Winged One could feasibly go into a human town and apart from a few stares it wouldn't be considered too far out of the ordinary.
Which made their involvement in this conflict all the more confusing. From what little she'd read up on them they were apparently averse to violence, preferring to attack only to defend themselves. She certainly didn't expect them to work as an aerial unit for Reconquista.
She looked at him with obvious pity. She'd heard that the Winged People were a proud race, intimately connected to nature. All she could see was a broken man - His features were gaunt, his skin pale and unhealthy; his robe, which at one point must have been of fine make, had been reduced to tattered rags barely clinging to his body; And of course his wings, which were nothing more than pathetic nubs by now.
It was sad.
"Y-You came..." His voice was soft, almost desperately weak. His gaze was focused on her Familiar, though Raziel still refused to look at him, "I sensed you...even through the fog that blanketed my mind...Dark One."
That got his attention. Raziel's gaze shifted, giving the Firstborn a dark scowl, "What you want? No riddles this time; tell me why you summoned us here."
"Quickly then..." He placed his hands on the table. Louise just barely saw the dried patches of blood on his back when he bent forward, "My people...my family...they are not involved in this war of their own volition. Our minds were taken from us, our free will...gone." His expression was pained, "When you injured me and ripped off my wings...my mind fully re-awakened once more. The pain was stronger than her control."
"It was not intentional, believe me..." Raziel muttered.
"Wait, what do you mean by 'your minds were taken from you'?" Louise questioned, "You mean you were mind-controlled?"
"Yes..." He nodded, "A woman...she came into our home...and stole our free will. I do not remember everything fully, but...there is one memory that has been burned into my mind..." His face hardened, "I know where they conduct their sickening perversions. My kin are still there, as are the rest of those your kind refer to as 'Firstborns. That damned place...is the reason why the Firstborns are helping your kind in this war."
"So what you're saying is-"
"I can tell you the location of this place...but you must promise me one thing." He gave Louise a pleading look to which she could only nod in response, "My family still remains in that purgatory. I will give you the location on the condition that you rescue my kin." He pressed both hands together in prayer, "Please, save them. If you do so then I can promise that we will aid you against your enemy of our own free will."
"...I promise." Louise replied. Raziel gave her an unsure glance but he said nothing.
"Thank you...Thank you, human..." He leaned forward and took his hand in hers, tears leaking from his eyes even as he forced himself to smile, "I will be forever in your debt for this. Thank you..."
"Uh...right." Louise did her best to return his smile and carefully untangled their hands, "We need to talk to the commanders first but they should agree with us once we tell them the benefits of this."
"Yes...speak to your leaders...and please save my people..."
Gwynevere woke up in an unfamiliar place.
The goddess opened her eyes and sat up on the bed, "Wh-Where...?" She looked around the room. It was barren, almost depressingly so. Besides the plain mattress she had been sleeping in there was nothing in the room save a wooden table - A human sized table, by the looks of it. Even the most basic of Godly comforts were far more intricate than the slab of wood that counted as a table for humans.
The only other occupant of the room was a swan. The princess of sunlight stared at the animal in awkward silence before it suddenly let out a frantic cry, flying around the room erratically. She used her hands to cover her ears and shut her eyes tightly. Why was that damnable animal acting in such a way? She was just as confused as it was in this situation.
Had she been kidnapped? Who could breach the palace of a God? And for what reason? Her father was dead, or he might as well have been given what a sacrifice to the Flame entailed. Her siblings were similarly lost; her older brother was cursed with mortality and her younger brother...poor Gwyndolin could never accept that his desire to continue their father's legacy was doomed to fail.
Where was Flan? Her beloved would never leave her like this.
She tried to step off the bed and immediately slipped, "Ah..." She hissed in pain and rubbed her bare feet. Her body felt...odd. She didn't know how to describe it properly but it felt as if it wasn't hers. She raised a hand experimentally; it felt as if her limbs had been weighed down with excess metal. She grabbed the edge of the bed and tried to pull herself up. Why was her body so heavy?
She brought a hand through her hair and her eyes widened. This...wasn't her hair. Her hair was long and curled; this was cut short to her neck.
There was definitely something strange happening here.
"Move..." She pulled herself up and panted. More than simply being heavy her body felt weak and the temptation to sleep was eating away at her. No, now wasn't the time for sleeping. She had to find out what was happening to her. With another burst of effort she finally forced herself to stand unevenly on heavy legs.
Perfect, now all she needed to do was move. She placed one foot in front of the other and nearly fell once more, "Urgh..." She shook her head and focused. She had to find a way out of this room and figure out...where exactly 'here' was. Why was she so weak? Her father used his soul to kindle the fire once more so the Flame should have remained strong, or at least their weaknesses should have been purged.
She took unbalanced steps to the closest thing she could find; a wardrobe. She grasped its edges tightly and let out a fatigued breath. The swan was still fluttering about the room and she sorely wished it would bump its head against something so it would grow quiet. She looked down at her attire; the sleeping wear wasn't what one would call proper clothing. She fumbled with the dresser's doors and opened them.
A stranger's reflection stared back at her.
"Wh-What...?" She raised a hand slowly and the reflection followed. This was...impossible. She shook her head, and again the reflection mimicked her. This was...This was a human, that was plain to see...so why was she the one to inhabit this body? She was a Goddess, a proud daughter of Gwyn and the princess of sunlight. She was not a human who could barely move her own body.
The door behind her opened and she turned to look at the new arrival fearfully, "Your Majesty, I must apologize for the wait." A blonde woman in white armor entered the room and bowed, "The training took longer than expected and- Your Majesty, what's wrong?"
The woman was a stranger to her- No, she remembered now. A name flickered into her mind, "Agnes..." She called out softly. How did she know this woman? She was clearly a human, or at least that's what she appeared to be at first glance. Neither her father or her beloved allowed humans to serve in the ranks of their knights. Could it be possible then that she was a lesser God like Ciaran?
"Your Majesty?" She stepped closer. Gwynevere felt the urge to back away from her but she reigned it in, "I heard noises coming in. What's wrong? Is Odette demanding more food again?" She eyed the swan.
"Wh-Where's..."
"Come, you must get off the floor." She knelt down and offered the monarch a hand, "You need to go back to sleep. Its only been a couple of hours since-"
"Where's Flan!?"
Agnes let out a scream of surprise as the Queen grabbed her shoulders and shook her desperately, "Where's Flan!? Where is he!? Why am I trapped in this human body!? How is that I know who you are!? Answer me!"
The knights expression was torn as the queen continued to ask more and more incoherent questions. Was this what Her Majesty was talking about when she said she needed help? She bit her lower lip and and clenched her fists. This was no mere dream.
"Forgive me your majesty..."
If someone had told her that she would end up slapping the Queen at her request she would have told them that they had gone crazy. But here she was, slapping the Queen to bring her back to her senses. The young Queen's eyes widened at the stinging pain on her cheeks and, slowly but surely, she could see her eyes regaining focus despite the lingering soreness.
"Agnes? What was I...did something happen?" Henrietta let go of the knight's shoulders and rubbed her cheeks, "I...forgive me, but I don't recall anything. The last I remember I was turning in to get some rest and then..."
"...It's best I not tell you." Agnes sighed and pulled her up, "Your dreams are getting worse?"
"Not that I can recall. I don't remember dreaming anything, in fact." She replied.
"Then this is another problem entirely..." Agnes let out a frustrated breath, "Your Majesty, I fear that this...condition of yours is steadily growing worse. I suggest you take sleeping tonics to bed every time you rest." She looked away, "I will stand guard at the entrance to your room from now on. If I hear any noise then I will come as quick as I can."
"...Thank you, Agnes..." She gave the knight a forced smile. The older woman gave another bow before turning to leave the room, leaving Henrietta to her own thoughts.
It took them a couple of days to finally find the place.
Despite the severity of their findings the commanders seemed adamant that they handle it themselves. Of course they justified it with the reasoning that they needed the soldiers to fortify their position in the village and that they were busy doing other, equally important things. As a Void Mage, they said, she should have proved more than capable of doing this by herself and they assured her that they wouldn't send her with no support if they didn't have the most absolute faith in her success.
She would have called bullshit, but a noble didn't insult so crassly.
She had to admit that this really wasn't how she would have preferred to go about it. It was just her and Raziel; even Julio had been too busy to help, apologizing that he had been assigned to spy on the neighboring towns and bring back any information that could prove useful. She would have preferred storming in there with a couple of platoons to rescue the Winged Ones, but apparently this wasn't important enough for them.
At the very least they had been given her a horse, though she and Raziel were forced to share due to his...condition. He'd tried to hide it from her but she saw the way his left hand spasmed, how unfocused his gaze was. She knew that he was...that he was dying, but how much time did he have left? Was she making it worse by bringing him along with her? It might have been cowardly to admit but she didn't want to do this alone and regardless of his state he was a much more adept combatant than she was. Without him she doubted she would be able to do this.
"It shouldn't be that much farther now..." She looked between the map she held and her Familiar. Raziel nodded blankly, his right hand fingering the sword he swiped from the armory. He still refused to bring Derflinger with him and much as she disagreed she didn't fancy the idea of arguing with him considering their circumstances. She'd talk with him about it once they returned to the camp.
She blew her dyed brown hair out of her eyes. She had left her mantle and disguised herself to be able to traverse easier. Staying at the inn would have proven difficult if she appeared like a Tristanian noble.
"...Is that it?"
He tapped her shoulder and pointed to the stone structure a short distance away. Immediately she ducked behind the closest tree, dragging him along with her, "It certainly looks like how he described it..." She stuck her head out carefully. His memories were distorted, but he recalled the building as some kind of stone construct in the middle of the forest. This seemed to be accurate enough.
The ogres guarding the entrance also tipped the scales in their favor.
"I should've seen this coming..." She clicked her tongue; at least three Ogres from what she could see. She knew that the structure would be guarded, but she'd hoped that it would remain to nothing more than a few human sentries or golems. She fished her wand out of her pants and prepared to cast a spell before Raziel pushed her hand down gently, "Hey, what's the big deal? We need go past them if we want to get to the Winged Ones."
"I can do this myself..." He muttered.
"But-"
"You will only place yourself at risk..." He pulled her back and stood up, taking his sword out of his sheath, "Keep your head down and cover your ears. It will not take long."
She watched worriedly as he pulled back the sleeve and glove covering his left arm, "Wh-What the hel happened there?" She tried to keep her voice level, but the sight nearly caused her to scream. The entire limb had been covered in an unnerving coat of darkness and she could see what appeared to be veins occasionally moving through his skin. She knew his condition was worsening but she didn't imagine it had turned this drastic. Why didn't he tell her? She would have...well, she would have tried to do something at least!
Raziel looked at it briefly in distaste before his expression hardened, "Another sign of my Hollowing..." He shook his head, "It does not matter. It should prove useful."
Useful was an understatement. Contrary to his prior actions his movements in combat were incredibly quick, almost graceful in a way. She watched with morbid fascination as he charged at the first Ogre and sliced through its left leg with one swipe. The Firstborn could only let out a pained roar as it lost its balance and fell to the ground. Her Familiar quickly finished it off with a stab at its forehead.
The second one fared no better. It rushed at him blindly, swinging its large spiked club from side to side. Raziel ducked under the clumsy strikes and looked up briefly before slicing open its stomach. Louise used her hands to cover her mouth to try and stop the rising tide of vomit that threatened to escape. Raziel, on the other hand, ignored the internal organs seeping out of the monster and stabbed his left hand into the open hole. He pulled out a dark clump from the assorted viscera - a Humanity shard, if she recalled correctly - and crushed it in his hand.
The third was on him before she realized. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the spiked club bearing down on him, "Raziel, look out!"
He barely had time to look up before the blunt weapon was nearly on him. His face distorted into a scowl as he raised his left arm and blocked the weapon with his wrist. Even from her place she could hear the disgusting sound of his flesh being torn from the bone. While his left continued to keep the club at bay his right hand began to stab his sword at any flesh he could reach.
It was only after the seventh stab that the creature's grip on its weapon finally faltered. She watched through half-covered eyes as he grabbed the club from the giant and smashed it across its face. More and more, again and again. He didn't stop even once the Orge finally fell and its head began to resembled a pile of rotten meat.
"Raziel, that's enough!" She called out.
He ignored her. She covered her ears and hesitantly stepped closer to him as he continued his unneeded assault, "Raziel, stop..." She raised her voice, but again he ignored her. She bit her lip and drew closer to him once more. Had he...Had he already lost his mind? He did tell her that his time was waning and the risks he took to defend her would only worsen his already precarious condition. Had he already Hollowed-
"No. He's fine..." She whispered to herself. No matter what he would never hurt her, she had to believe in that. Raziel was her Familiar, her friend...he would be there for her when she needed him.
Raziel ceased in his attack as he felt arms circle around his waist, "That's enough, Raziel..." She pressed her head against his back. She closed her eyes tightly and gave a sigh of relief when she heard the sound of the club being dropped on the ground.
"Louise...?" He separated from her and looked down at his hands. Covered in blood, though that was beginning to be an all too common sight in recent days. His left hand was injured, bleeding out some kind of dark fluid in lieu of blood. Louise reached out a hand but he backed away with a grimace, "...You have my apologies. I...lost myself briefly. I promise it will not happen again."
Even she could tell he was lying, but she forced herself to smile regardless, "Right...just make sure to be careful. I don't want to lose you." She looked at his left arm; it was hanging limply, "How bad are your injuries? Do you need any help?"
"I am fine, but..." He looked away, "I cannot move my left arm anymore. I suppose its aid comes at a price." He let out a bitter laugh, "I can still protect you, but it will be more difficult with one one hand." He picked up his sword and swung his arm experimentally. Without the Dark Hand he couldn't procure Humanity to heal himself, "Stay behind me, Louise. I do not want to see you hurt."
"I can take care of myself." The rolling of the eyes made it clear he didn't believe her, but she walked past him regardless, "Come on, I doubt there's much of anything left down there anyway. Just...try to calm down, alright? I don't want you going off again."
The walk down to the laboratory was quiet. Louise held her wand out in front of her, a spell already at the tip of her tongue for any hostiles. Raziel walked a short distance behind her, his left hand occasionally spasming uncontrollably. He attempted to hide it, but it was clear that his condition was worsening. She needed to finish this up quickly.
"Did they build this place or was it always here...?" She asked aloud. The stone appeared far too withered for a recent construction but if it was here beforehand then who built it? "Can't see much..." She clicked her tongue. Torches occasionally dotted the barren hallway but beyond that there was no light in this would-be asylum. She grabbed the closest torch and pried it from the wall, holding it in her free hand.
"Raziel, are you alright?" She turned back to look at him.
He flinched away from her as the light of the torch blanketed him, "I am fine..." His eyes narrowed, "Come, we must hurry."
They went through a few more winding hallways. She saw a few cells, big enough to house human-sized Firstborns easily, but they were all empty. Where were they? That Winged One gave them the right location, didn't he? This place looked abandoned. They continued their silent walk until they came upon a wooden door at the end of the hallway. Unlike everything else in this damned place it appeared to be a recent addition.
"Well, here we are..." She touched the wood lightly. Smooth the touch; very out of place for this helhole.
"I am here..." Raziel tapped her back in affirmation.
"Right...here goes..."
She knew the sight would be gruesome once she opened those doors, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw inside.
Bodies upon bodies piled on stone slabs, cut open like animals in a butchery. She could count at least two dozen humans strewn about all over the the room and that wasn't counting the other assorted Firstborns. She could see humans with their backs cut open and what appeared to be distorted flesh growing from between their shoulders. Others had their hands and feet mangled only to be replaced by claws and talons of different sorts.
This time she did actually vomit. Raziel looked at her warily as she heaved what little food she'd managed to eat that day. He was unaffected by the sight, though that didn't surprise her; he'd told her about his experiences with the tower of that mad dragon 'Seath'. She coughed desperately and wiped the bile away from her mouth. It was as if she was back in Tarbes, looking the burned and broken bodies of the soldiers she'd caught in her spell.
The smell was worse; a putrid combination of blood and decaying flesh. She covered her nose with one hands; the stench nearly made her faint outright. She rummaged through her pockets to find something to cover her face.
"Louise..." Raziel held her shoulder gently. She looked about ready to pass out. He looked down at the white scarf covering his neck and sighed,. It was the precious gift the maid had sewn for him, "Here..." He took off the cloth and wrapped it around her face, "Take care of it, please. I will need it back later." He offered her a small smile, "Are you alright now?"
"I'm...I'm fine...and...thanks." She took deep, gasping breaths through her mouth as she tried to calm herself. "We...We need to look around. Make sure that this doesn't happen anymore." She pointed a shaking finger at the lined up tables, "See if you can find anything on the left, I'll check the right-"
"No. We stay together." He shook his head.
"...Fine." She didn't want to admit it, but she was relieved.
The first few tables were the same - All humans, male and female, that looked as if their spines had been crushed. The perverse 'wings' on their back were small, only a few inches wide, and made up of a sickening combination of malformed flesh and broken bones, "They died from their injuries..." Raziel mumbled.
"Yeah, I know that." She snapped back, "We need to find out what happened. Why were they doing this."
"Whatever they were doing it affected their Humanity..."
"What?"
"Their Humanity." He traced a finger through a still-fresh pile of blood and smelled it, "Humanity is contained in the blood and bones of a human. Those Ogres outside consume humans and I could sense the Humanity they contained in their bodies. But..." His face scrunched in distaste, "The Humanity of these people have been...altered somehow. Melded with something."
"What do you mean?"
"It is similar to what Seath did to his 'experiments'." He frowned, "Change the soul and you can change the body. The Pisacas could never become Firekeepers so he tried to alter their souls to try and turn them. I can only assume it's what happened here as well." He poked the mangled 'wings', "These look familiar, do they not? They are much smaller but they appear to be similar to the wings that prisoner once had.
"Oh God..." She covered her mouth, a sudden dizziness overtaking her.
The rest of the tables proved just as gruesome. While there seemed to be no consistency to the victims, they were always malformed different ways - Lumps of flesh and bone ripping from their backs, mangled hands and feet where the skin was torn asunder. Even something small like their eyes growing far too large for their sockets or teeth that were ill-fitted for the mouths their inhabited.
"There are books there..." He pointed to a wooden table propped up on the side, "I cannot read your language. You will have to take them."
"R-Right..."
Through shaking hands she grabbed the first book on top of the pile, "...Is this a journal?" She opened to the first page and started reading.
First Test:
Unsuccessful. My employers wish for me to perform miracles but they don't give me nearly enough resources or time to make it viable. The first three subjects perished. Orcs have never shown the capability of using magic, but what of their ferocity and capacity for violence? If even a single human soldier had the instincts of an Orc they could shift the tides of a battle slightly. What, then, would an entire army of ferocious killers be capable of?
A question for another day when more subjects come.
Fourth Test:
Subjects seventeen through twenty four died last night. I thought I had finally succeeded; the subject's hands were changed to match the claws of Ogres and the pain was fleeting. I underestimated the bleeding, however, and they perished by the time I'd come back. Closer examination now makes it clear that they hadn't grown claws at all but that their bones had changed to a facsimile of such. Equally effective for practical uses, but only if I manage to suppress their blood loss.
Need to be more careful. A lack of results will reflect poorly on future payments.
Sixth Test:
Why are Firstborns capable of Spirit Magic while humans aren't? An ageless question, one they're hoping that I solve. I heard about some experiments in Gallia that actually managed to successfully create human Spirit Magic users, but in this trade it could be nothing more than an old rumor. Elves would be the most helpful in my research but the day we manage to subdue Elves will be the day Father Brimir rises from the dead.
Experiments still ended in failure. My benefactors are slowly growing impatient, though at the very least I don't lack for test subjects. They come to deliver a shipment of new subjects every two days so I never find myself wanting anymore. Sadly Subjects thirty five to forty two perished as well - Their teeth changed to match a Goblin's sharpened ends but as soon as I released their restraints they took to eating each other and, when one remained, cannibalizing himself.
The instincts of the Firstborns override even basic logic, it seems.
Tenth Test:
Finally a glimmer of hope. My benefactor has given me a fair number of Winged Ones. Unlike previous tests I'm confident that results will be favorable - Though the denizens of the forest are a separate race entirely, their physiology is very similar to that of humans. Already tests are showing promising results and Subjects seventy nine through eighty six are already experiencing continuous growth of wings on their backs.
Assuming those rumors are untrue, I will be the first successful scientist to allow humans to tap into the powers of Spirits.
Louise felt her blood boil as she continued to read through the journal. It was...calling it disgusting would have been a gross understatement of the revulsion she felt. How many people had died here? How many had this 'scientist' tortured for his own sick curiosity? She glanced once more at the people on the stone slabs - How long had this been going on? How many innocent people had fallen victim to this madman?
Her grip on the booklet tightened, her hands crumpling the paper. Her mission was to recover any documents and intelligence she could find. The assorted papers and various other documents contained the results of the perverse experiments. She rifled through the papers: All of them detailed procedures, methods, dosages and various other instructions along with corrections on previous 'failures'.
She bit her lower lip. The commanders wanted these disgusting things recovered? What in helheim for!? As far as she was concerned no one should know about the monstrous things that had happened here.
A scuffle behind her caught her attention. She turned around and watched as Raziel pulled out a vaguely human shape from the storage. Picking up the torch and drawing closer, she saw Raziel press his knee against the figure's neck while keeping the sword's tip pointed between its eyes.
Looking closer she could now make out that the figure was male, already advanced in age if his gray hair and wrinkles were any indication, "I sensed him when I got close to the closet." He pressed his knee tighter against the old man's neck. He let out a choking breath, "He does not appear to be a prisoner."
That much was obvious. His clothes were obviously of fine make and apart from the bloody nose Raziel had given him he sported no other injuries.
Louise knelt down and fixed him a hard gaze, "Were you the one who did this?" She hissed. He opened his mouth but nothing came. His eyes were suddenly determined to look at anything except for her, "Answer me!" She snarled. She pressed the tip of her wand against his cheek painfully. He let out a small cry of pain, "Answer me honestly: Were you the one who did this!?"
"Y-Yes!" He cried desperately, "B-But they forced me! I-I-I didn't want to, but they told me they would kill my family if I didn't cooperate!" His eyes were pleading, "P-Please, please don't kill me! I-I surrender! Take me away from here! I-I just want to see my family again-"
"Liar!" Louise screamed, "I read your journal! You weren't forced into doing anything!"
"J-Journal!? What are you- I didn't write a journal! Please, I swear I was taken here against my will! I...I just want to leave this place! I promise you-"
"I don't believe you." She shook her head and stood up. Her orders also stipulated that she capture anyone who was willing to surrender - 'Their information could save the lives of a hundred soldiers', the commanders had said. But...she couldn't let him out. Imprisonment was too merciful for a monster like him. It would be an affront to everything Brimir stood for if she allowed him to walk away.
She would be disobeying orders, but...no one else would know.
"Kill him." She ordered. The old man's eyes widened but she ignored him, "Burn his corpse afterwards. I don't want a single trace of this bastard remaining once you're done."
Raziel nodded and flared his right hand, covering it in orange fire. She turned around and ignored the old man's pleading even as it devolved into desperate screams. She trudged back to the table and stared hatefully at all the papers. She wanted to believe in her homeland, but she would never be able to live with herself if she allowed herself to repeat this man's mistakes.
She swept the papers off the table in a a rough wave. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the torch and threw it into the pile. She watched it all burn, her expression unchanging. No one would repeat his mistake, there would be no trace of this monstrosity. Her grip on her wand tightened and she waited until there was nothing left but ashes. She would take what she'd seen to her grave.
A few tears escaped her eyes. No, now wasn't the time for tears.
"It is done..." Raziel sidled up next to her, "We should leave. You need to rest."
"Not yet. We still have to rescue his family." She wiped away her tears roughly, "I made a promise and I intend to keep it."
"There is only one more room-"
"Then that's where we're going."
She thought nothing more would surprise her at this point, but she had to admit that a hallway filled to the brim with Firstborns still caused her to scream in surprise. Dozens of them, all of different races whether they were Ogres, Orcs or Goblins. Thankfully there weren't any Vampires or Elves else she might have likely fainted on the spot.
The hallway was barren save a door with stairs leading upwards. His quarters, maybe? It would certainly be convenient; the first thing he would see when he woke up would be his 'subjects'.
She pointed her wand in front of her carefully. It appeared as if the firstborns were...sleeping? Her brows knotted in worry and she looked closer. They were all grouped together at the hallway's side, but there was nothing keeping them in place- No, looking closer she could actually see what appeared to be a translucent barrier of some sort. She walked ahead carefully and touched it.
The barrier moved slightly at her touch but beyond that it gave no other indication of submitting. She beat her fist against it; no change. She looked at the long hallway; all the Firstborns were standing in place like statues, though their gazes were unfocused. She could see a few scattered Winged Ones stuck between their more feral brethren. They were injured and malnourished, but definitely alive.
"What...is this place...?" She wondered.
"A prison." Raziel's eyes narrowed, "A lot of Humanity has been gathered here."
"We'll worry about destroying this place later. Right now we have to save them-"
"Wait." He grabbed her hand, "Louise, look at them." He nudged his head to the barrier, "Their state is not normal. I can only assume that this barrier is what is keeping them pacified. If you dispel it..." He let the sentence hang.
"Our lives would be at risk." She finished for him. He nodded, "Can't you-"
"I cannot fight them all, Louise. Even if I could still use my left arm I would not be able to fight them all. There are too many." He pursed his lips, "It is not only our lives which will be put at risk. Even if we succeed in saving that prisoner's family the creatures here will escape and-"
"Rampage all over Albion?" She finished. Another nod, slower this time, "I know that, Raziel. I've read up on how dangerous most Firstborns are, but..." She touched the barrier, "What do you suggest that I do? I made a promise to him that I would save his family and the only reason we ever found this place was because he told us in exchange for their safety. I can't just leave them to die..."
"If those Ogres and Orcs leave this place, more will die..." He looked down, "I have seen what they are capable of, Louise. People will die if they escape their prison."
"Those Winged Ones will die if I just leave them there!" She rebuked.
"...Lives are lost either way," He conceded, "Its is your choice, Louise. Just know what will happen..."
She turned away from him and let out a frustrated. Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Even on the off-chance that they made it out of here without any injuries of their own those Firstborns would be injured, angry and, most of all, hungry. The closest human village was a fair distance away, she could warn them, but would they believe the word of a young girl coming out of the forest?
She kicked the wall in frustration. She could spare them the potential danger if she left the Winged Ones to die, but could she willingly leave them to perish from eventual starvation? She couldn't leave and come back later - The commanders wouldn't spare her the men if she told them she wanted to rescue the Winged Ones and there was a chance they could be moved once those who 'delivered' fresh subjects came back and saw the dead Ogres.
She had to choose now.
"Raziel...tell me what I should do."
He didn't answer. Louise gave him a pleading look but he only shook his head despondently. It didn't matter, she already knew his answer: He would have left them to die. She could have followed his advice an ducked responsibility, claim that they both made that choice and she wasn't singularly to blame.
No, she would have just been lying to herself. She was the master and he was the Familiar. A few months ago, almost a lifetime ago, she told him that she had to take responsibility for every sin that he committed.
Well, it was time for her to own up.
"We're breaking the barrier. Get ready."
Henrietta knelt down at the altar, her handed clasped together in prayer. Her white dress had been replaced by dark robes, almost akin to a mourning gown, "Father Brimir, please hear my prayers..." She closed her eyes. Apart from a few candles that ensured she wasn't covered in complete darkness there was nothing else in the room save for the altar she prayed at. The room was supposedly used by previous members of the royal family to confess their sins, but it had been unused nearing a decade now.
Still, a little dust wouldn't stop her.
"Forgive me, my Lord, for I have sinned..." She continued. For the past couple of days she'd all but barricaded herself in the dark room, leaving only to take the occasional meal. Agnes had insisted that this was risky but she wouldn't relent and eventually the knight agreed on the condition that she be allowed to stand guard outside the room so she could ensure her safety. There was only one entrance and no windows, so there was little risk of a surprise assassination.
She also didn't tell Agnes that she'd cast a silence spell. On the off-chance that she had another one of her 'moments' she didn't want her to see her.
She had to admit that her reasons for her actions were selfish. While she did indeed spend her hours here praying for those who were fighting for her, it was also because her dreams seemed reluctant to bare themselves when she stayed here. She didn't know the reason and in all honesty she truly didn't care, but the small chapel had acted as her sanctuary.
"Please protect Louise...she doesn't deserve to die for my selfishness..." She prayed for Louise above anyone else. Above the soldiers who risked their lives for her, above the volunteers who did their best to support their countrymen. A need or a want, she told herself that Louise needed to be sent there but would she be able to look her best friend in the eye once all was said and done?
She certainly hoped so.
Another vision threatened to engulf her mind, but she suppressed it. She would tell Louise about them if...when she came back from Albion. She didn't know what to do with her slowly fracturing mind, but so long as her best friend was with her she would be able to-
"Your cries for help echo through the darkness..." A voice whispered in her ear.
She screamed in surprise and scrambled away. Turning around to look at her previous position she pointed her wand at the figure, her heart beating rapidly, "Wh-Who are you...?" She tried to calm her beating heart.
The figure tilted her head to the side. Her features were difficult to make out through the darkness: Dark hair went past her knees and a tattered robe that just barely covered her body. Atop her head lay what appeared to be a crown made of a light colored metal. Henrietta's grip on her wand tightened; an assassin of some kind? How did she get past Agnes?
"I have not come here to harm you, daughter of Light." The figure's voice was soft, and yet it seemed to echo throughout the small room, "I heard your cry for help and curiosity bade me to follow."
"What are you talking about?" She lowered her wand slightly.
"Your dreams. Memories of a past life, they are emerging." She replied, "I can offer you reprieve, but only if you let me."
"How did you get past Agnes?" She asked back.
"The burned one did not see me. I did not let her." She couldn't see her expression through the hair covering her face, "Your soul, it shines brightly amongst the sea of darkness. You are human, and yet your soul is that of Light."
"Make sense, please."
"Gwynevere." Henrietta winced and rubbed her forehead at the sudden headache, "That is who you once were, but no longer. The dreams, the memories, they overwhelm you. I can help you..."
"...Do you know why this is happening to me?" She ventured. The woman could have killed her already if she was an assassin, so she was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
"The cycle is beginning. We are nearing the end." Her voice lowered, "The lands tear at one another until only chaos remains. You remember." She pointed a pale finger at her, "A part of you remembers. Your soul is conflicted; who you were before, and who you are meant to be now; it does not understand. You were to play your role, to leave your kingdom to ashes, but you did not."
"My role?"
"It matters little now, daughter of Light. You are unbound from your chains. You can change your fate." She clasped her hands together, "Whether you will is your own choice. I came to help you, to lull the dreams back to their slumber. Will you let me?"
"...Yes." She nodded. It was a risk, but she had a chance it.
The woman stood in front her and pressed her palm against her forehead. Henrietta shivered at the cold temperature, "Why are you doing this? Why...help me?"
Her gaze shifted. From beneath the tangle of hair she caught a glimpse of an eerily beautiful face before it was hidden behind its 'mask' once more, "I could hear your pleas for help. Your soul fights against itself. I wished to aid you."
"You...just wanted to help?"
"You doubt me." A statement, not a question, "I understand your suspicions, but I wish you no harm." She pulled her hand back, "No more dreams. You can rest now, daughter of Light." She stepped back, "The dreams will return eventually. I shall come when you have need of me."
The woman turned to leave. Henrietta called out, "Wait, please!" She looked back, "I have more questions. What do you mean by cycles? What 'role' was I meant to play?" She realized that this could have been nothing more than a dirty trick or even a vivid hallucination, but she couldn't leave it without trying to find out.
"I do not have any more time...I shall tell you when I visit next-"
"Then...at least tell me your name." She pleaded.
She was silent for a moment before she finally nodded.
"Alsanna...you may call me Alsanna."
I can predict the lore purists jumping down my throat now :P Well, that's it for this chapter - Not much happened in this chapter but I figured I needed up the ante a bit since we're on Chapter 47 now and nothing imminently 'Dark Souls' has happened all that much. I know some/many aren't going to like Henrietta being Gwynevere's reincarnation or Alsanna's appearance, but hey that's where this story's going.
Anyway, I purposely avoided giving Raziel any POV for this chapter since it'd just be a rehash of Chapter 43. Given that Henrietta already fills the quota for 'insane person' in this chapter I had to give the other POV to the much more mentally stable Louise. That and Raziel would have rather understated reactions to the Firstborn lab which Louise evidently doesn't.
I also had to cut Derflinger out since he messed with the flow in the laboratory scene. I'll involve him more post Saxe-Gotha.
Anyway, see you all when Fallout 4 and AC Syndicate finishes!
Thaqif - For the last time: No, I'm not making a crossover. I said it before, so I'm going to be blunt now - I don't like Fairy Tale and I don't fancy writing a crossover fanfic for that. Ask other authors, but don't ask me again. Sorry if I'm impolite, but I already said no once and that's the end of it.
BloodTrinity - Not sorcery, miracles :D
Remvis - Yup, that we can agree on I guess. I'm more interested in seeing how characters of different personalities bounce off one another: Henrietta and Raziel during 'The Purge' comes to mind since they're two people who have very differing values and viewpoints with regards to their actions. They're somewhat literal opposites now given what happened in this chapter but my point stands.
Anyway, I'll admit that it's refreshing to see a ZNT reader who doesn't clamor or ask for romance. Romance writing isn't really my forte per-se so I didn't want to botch it and ruin the fic. I'm not above ship tease moments, however :P
Demons Anarchy of Pride - Fast? Dude, we're in chapter 47 at this point. I think we've gone slow enough.
Mingyu - Yes there's a reason, one Alsanna helpfully says outright in this chapter :)