I am back from my Fallout 4 and Assassins Creed:Syndicate induced exile! Christmas is coming soon with New Years coming right after. Looking back it's been about three years since I started this fic and I never once imagined it would ever get this far; I always thought it would just be a distraction from my Infinite Stratos fanfics but now its my main :) Thank you everyone who stuck around for so long :D
Hope this chapter doesn't have too many typos.
Another village had been destroyed.
Louise looked down at the report, her hands shaking as she crumpled the paper in frustration. It was the third village listed and the results were the same as the previous two - No looting and no attempt at negotiations. The few villagers that managed to escape with their lives told the same tales: A ragtag group of Firstborns, bearing injuries and marks of previous violence, came into their village without warning and killed those that fought back and kidnapped those that didn't.
Given the nature of Ogres and Orcs she knew all too well the fate of those that had been 'spared'. It was grim of her to think so, but after all she'd experienced she knew that those that had died defending their homes were the 'lucky' ones in this tragedy. At least they died quickly and with a sense of dignity, not cowering in a cage waiting to die and watching their loved ones consumed by those savage beasts.
Releasing the Firstborns was a mistake, she knew that, but she couldn't let the Winged Ones die. She made a promise to that young man and the prisoners were innocent of any crime. It wasn't as if they were Elves; contrary to the other races the relationship between Humans and Winged Ones were cordial, though they kept a respectful distance from one another. If she left them there then they would have been taken once Reconquista found them again or they would die of starvation. She might as well have been bringing the blade across their necks herself.
Of course that also meant she was responsible for those destroyed villages. She could have reassured herself otherwise, claimed that she wasn't responsible for the depravities of monsters and that only her own actions would be judged, but she would have been lying to herself. She made the choice to release them, to save the few captured innocents she could see and damning those that she couldn't.
And now those monsters were taking retribution on the humans for the experiments they endured, regardless of who it might have been.
"I should be other there fixing this mess..." She muttered. Crumpling the paper completely, she tossed it to the side of the tent and let out a frustrated breath. Once she'd brought the Winged Ones back she insisted to the commanders that they allow her and Raziel to follow the trail of the Firstborns. But of course now her 'superiors' - and she used that term very loosely - wanted her to stay behind 'just in case'. What that meant she had absolutely no idea, though she had a feeling that they didn't actually believe her about there being a Firstborn lab and the knowledge that they had sent their trump card on a dangerous mission alone made them averse to putting her at risk.
She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed that they valued her so highly.
Regardless of her feelings it changed little. They had reassured her that they would send soldiers out to chase after the errant Firstborns, though not before claiming that it would be 'difficult' since Albion was still contested land. One of the older commanders - one of the few she actually liked - stated that the Albionese would see mobilizing soldiers to counter the Firstborn threat as nothing more than an excuse for spreading their influence.
Another one claimed that it would be a waste of time to bother going after the monsters. After all, weren't those villages not their allies? He saw little point in bothering to protect the enemy. 'Let those villages defend themselves', he claimed, 'They reap what they sow for consorting with those monsters'.
She would have launched an explosion at his face, but that would send the wrong impression.
So now here she was, wasting her days away as the season passed. Two weeks had passed since their involvement in the house of that madman, and battles had slowed into a trickle after Tristain had successfully taken the ancient city of Saxe-Gotha. Both Reconquista and Tristain were content to fortify their positions and give each other mean-spirited stares without actually doing anything. Tristain had the numerical advantage but, as her father told her before, fighting an enemy on their home was a mistake.
She looked outside to the thickening snow. Albion was far colder than Tristain and this was only exemplified now that winter was hitting full force. In a few more days this year would be over and another would be upon them. This wasn't how she imagined spending the upcoming Advent Festival; she'd always gone back home to spend it with her family - It was one of the few times in the year that Eleanor wasn't infuriating to be around.
A sudden wind ran through the tent and she rubbed her arms. Despite the jacket and her personal tent being far warmer than the basic necessities given to the soldiers she still found herself shivering from the frigid cold. She would have preferred to stay at an inn, but her hair outed her as a Mage and she preferred the cold to the constant glares she received from the townspeople. They didn't attack her - either out of common courtesy or not wanting to incur the wrath of a Mage and/or her Familiar - but she still preferred to keep as far away from the town as possible. It was for both her safety and theirs considering Raziel's condition.
Speaking of her Familiar...
The young pinkette turned to the corner of the tent. Raziel sat on a spare chair, his body still as a statue, and stared at a part of the fabric wall. At first glance he appeared to be sleeping but closer inspection revealed that his eyes were indeed open. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together; despite the freezing temperatures he seemed just fine, all things considered.
It couldn't have been farther from the truth.
His 'Hollowing' was growing worse the more days passed. While he didn't seem to suffer his previous spasms and bouts of pain, it was clear that he was barely holding on. The days they spent in camp were growing into a mindnumbing chore - While she tried to keep herself active by reading books and reports (much as the latter continued to lower her mood), he spent most days not moving altogether. When she went to sleep he would sit down and stare at the wall and when she woke up he would still be sitting and staring at the exact same spot at that wall.
It scared her to think that she would fall asleep and when next woke up he would have passed on without her realizing it.
"When was the last time you slept?"
The words stabbed through the uncomfortable silence covering the tent. Despite her feelings on the matter they hadn't spoken to one another for almost a week now. So long as she stayed in camp Raziel saw no reason to follow her around and much as she wanted to talk to him about his condition she could never find the right words. What was she supposed to say? That she wanted an exact date on when he would die?
She palmed her face and groaned. The first thing she said to him in eight days and it was a redundant question.
"I do not need to sleep..." He replied softly. His voice was weak, but more than that it was tired. She sounded similar whenever she spent an entire night studying in order to perfect the written exam (because Brimir knew she would fail the practical one).
"It might still do you some good." She insisted, patting the spot on the bed next to her.
"...As you wish."
He stood up and sluggishly made his way to her. She resisted the urge to ask him if he needed any help; he hated being pitied and treated as an invalid. When he sat down next to her he shifted uncomfortably in his spot.
"Ah...how are you supposed to sleep?" He gave her a sideways glance. Despite her tent being more luxurious, it was still nothing more than a tent that that had to be capable of being moved at a moment's notice. The bed of course had to be be smaller than the one she was used to and could only fit herself, if only to allow more room for the rest of her meager belongings. She supposed that they expected Raziel to sleep on the floor.
She pointedly ignored the little voice in her head reminding her that she made him sleep on the floor a mere few months ago.
"Hmm...This'll work." His eyes widened slightly when she grabbed his shoulders and nudged them downwards, placing his head on her lap. He looked up at her questioningly and she smiled back awkwardly, "Its something Big sis Catt and I did whenever I couldn't sleep."
"...If you say so." He let out a shallow breath and closed his eyes.
She let out a sigh and leaned back on the bed. It was never about fatigue when Big sis Catt did it. It always came after she felt particularly sorry for herself for failing a spell or when Eleanor yelled at her for being a failure for the nth time that week. She didn't know what it was, but there was something comforting about being in the presence of her sister that calmed her.
She could only hope that he received a small amount of comfort from this.
Her hands brushed through his brown hair, exposing his pale forehead. His eyes were closed, though she couldn't tell if he was sleeping or not. Ever since they had arrived in Albion he had stopped breathing, though she knew that the action was a deliberate action rather than an instinctual one for him. Even now as he 'slept' he was rigid, his skin cold to the touch despite the blood stored in his body and his entire being eerily still.
She bit her lip. She couldn't do anything for him, much as she wished it. With all her power for being blessed with a portion of Lord Brimir's Void magic she could do nothing but watch as he slowly but surely slipped away from her. It frustrated her - She could kill well enough, but for all the 'miracles' the Void had been claimed to be capable of doing it ultimately seemed to boil down to 'Kill as many people as quickly as possible' or 'Distract them so we can kill them as quickly as possible'.
"I don't...want you to go..."
Her hands clenched tightly and stopped herself from letting out a sound. No, she had to be stronger than this. She made the choice to come here and bring him with her knowing the full consequences of doing so. She had no time for self-doubt and crying about 'what she should have done instead'. Her mother imposed upon her the importance of taking responsibility for her actions, whether for good or for ill.
Raziel...the Firstborns rampaging and killing innocent people...the people who died in Tarbes. Her responsibility, and she had to bear that weight if she had any right to call herself a noble.
"...You are crying."
She nearly jumped at the sudden comment. Looking down she found Raziel staring up at her, a hint of worry cutting through his placid expression. She was about to deny the accusation before she caught sight of the teardrops on his forehead. Damn it, she hadn't even noticed. She wiped away the tears and took a deep breath. There was no point to it now, but she didn't want him to see her like this.
She froze when he reached out his right hand and wiped the remaining droplets away. Raziel offered her a small smile before letting his arm fall back to its previous position, "You do not have to wear a mask when you are with me, Louise."
"I'm not wearing a mask." She shook her head and slapped both her cheeks lightly. It was...difficult being honest, even in normal situations. While she would (reluctantly) admit that her temper needed work it was better to be seen as angry rather than weak. To a noble pride was crucial, almost pivotal to their lives. With him it was like being around Big sis Catt or Princess Henrietta; she never had to worry about how they judged her.
"You know I am not adept with matters like this, but...tell me if you need anything."
"Raziel...tell me honestly." She took a deep breath, "Do you...Do you know how much time you have left before you..."
"It has already passed, I believe." He let out a forced laugh at her sudden gasp, "One can never know when someone Hollows. Logan claimed that it is an inevitability; even if we tell ourselves and cling stubbornly onto something it is in our very nature to go mad. Whether it is true or not I do not know, but it is...comforting when we think of those that keep us tethered."
"But how do you know that you've already passed it? Maybe you still have a few weeks or months left-"
"Louise... there are times I can barely remember who you are."
Whatever she was about to say was caught in her throat, "Y-You're kidding, right!?" He looked away, "Come on, say something! If you're forgetting who I am then-"
"I am losing my mind." He finished for her, "It is why I have not been 'well' lately. I...I have to cling to the memories we have together. You, Siesta...I do not wish to forget either of you."
"How...How much do you still remember?" As if on instinct she brought her hands through his hair again. Was it supposed to calm him or her? She could recall Big sis Catt doing it for her whenever she was distraught.
"You, Siesta, Julio..." He said the last name with noticeable venom, "Everyone else...they fade from memory unless I try to cling to them." So he didn't. He didn't say that but she knew him well enough that he didn't, "Truth be told I do not even know what we are doing here," He shifted his place on her lap and looked outside so she couldn't see his expression, "I know there is a war, but why this war is being fought is unknown to me. All I know is that I...that I have to protect you. As long as I remember that, I...I should stave off the Hollowing for now..."
He let out a surprised blink when she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a desperate embrace, "I'm sorry..." Her voice was muffled as she pressed her head against his chest. She didn't know what else to say, really; more apologies would have been redundant and inelegant blubbering wasn't something she exactly wanted to be vocalized.
A moment passed before his right arm wrapped itself around her back, his left hanging limply at his side - A constant reminder of the sacrifices he'd already made for her. She shivered slightly. He felt cold to the touch, but despite her shivering she felt no urge to separate from him. She wished she could cheat time, inform herself to cherish the moments they spent together or to push that craven Wardes of a cliff.
She wanted more time to be with him.
"I will stay as long as I can, Louise. However, we both know that it will end...one way or another."
Just barely he could feel her nod before she closed her eyes and let her breathing calm.
They stayed together until she felt sleep wash over her.
Silver Knights were amassing in droves in the square.
He stared blankly at the milling knights. He didn't know much about the knights; the few times he'd fought them in New Londo he honestly couldn't tell how much of their mind remained. They always stood on silent vigil, attacking any intruders that happened to pass by (which apparently didn't include the assorted demons that had taken residence in the abandoned palace). Regardless of their sanity (or lack thereof) it was clear that the sentinels were dedicated to their duty of killing anything that happened to pass by their field of vision.
So why exactly were they milling around singing drunken songs?
Looking closer they were certainly shorter than he remembered. The Silver Knights towered over him even when he wasn't less than six feet tall, but now they appeared the size of human beings. They were in...it was Albion, if he remembered correctly. His memories never indicated the presence of Silver Knights before in this land; it was possible he had simply forgotten but Louise never mentioned them either.
"...I am hallucinating." He muttered, shaking his head.
Memories were blending together. He looked up - The twin moons were still there, though there was smaller moon off to the side, "Damn it all to the abyss..." He grit his teeth and forced himself to walk, ignoring the shake in his step. Where was he going? ...Oh, he was simply taking a walk. He let out an annoyed breath and looked to the sacrificial altar of Gwyn-
"You have no place here. You died long ago." He stared up at the 'altar' hatefully. For all he knew it could have been a market stall but his deteriorating mind saw it as an offering to the Gods.
He looked back. Louise had fallen asleep and he had decided to walk about the town, if only to get a grasp on the current situation; he'd left most of equipment behind, so hopefully she wouldn't drink his Estus. So far he had seen Silver Knights drinking themselves into a stupor while priestesses and nuns offered sexual intercourse in exchange for coppers in darkened alleys. Off to the side he could see a few mushroom people milling about asking for spare alms.
His hand drifted to the gun at his side. He vaguely recalled a talking sword of some sort, though he didn't bother to dwell on it too much. He needed to keep focused on what little he could remember right now. His combat skills had atrophied due to his condition and he needed a way to keep himself stable for Louise. In vague recollections he remembered Hollows being capable of nothing more than mindless flailing to kill their enemies. That wouldn't be enough to protect her.
Protect Louise. He had to protect Louise. That was all that mattered.
"I have to remember...that is my purpose..." It was what would keep him sane, at least for the time being. His mind was deteriorating, he knew that, but until she was safe he would fight death to his bitter end.
He forced himself to move once more. He didn't care where he went, just that the altar was giving him a headache. He lost himself in the crowd, doing his best to ignore the wide variety of individuals that had no place being here. Priests bought weapons, knights insulted one another while maidens hawked their wares. At the back of his mind he could hear a soft humming that sounded distinctly feminine.
"Outta my way, pisspot!" A priest of Gwyn shoved him aside, muttering something along the lines of 'Fucking Tristanian asshole'. He stared at the amulet on the 'priest's' neck. The dull silver sword...he saw it before, hadn't he? Vague images of statues holding an infant flitted through his mind before disappearing once more.
He shook his head, "It is not important."
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he trudged ahead. Another bout of wind ran through the area, causing a slight chill to his exposed skin. He'd left his scarf with Louise; while it was a gift from his precious friend she needed it more than he did and her needs came before his own, "Sorry, Siesta..." He muttered. He still remembered the last night spent together, her tears as they lay in the bed in silent companionship.
It was funny...he didn't want to die, and he still remembered the bouts of fear he had with the foregone conclusion of his Hollowing. Now there was...nothing. He wondered if this could truly count as death - Unless Louise killed him he would still be 'alive', albeit mindless. His mind would be gone but his soul and body would remain, a shell of his former self.
He remembered something an older man wearing large armor told him...what was his name? It started with 'Sieg', though beyond that he remembered little. For whatever reason the words were still ingrained in his mind: 'It is not death I am afraid of, my friend, but dying'. Undead could not live to old age and die peacefully in bed. The only options left to them were Hollowing after giving into despair or after their mind broke from the constant death.
He didn't fancy the idea of dying from the metal of a blade. Choking on his own blood, trying not to scream from the pain. Losing his mind wasn't ideal, but at least it was painless and he saw it coming. A painless death was better than he could hope for all things considered and the knowledge of its arrival was comforting in a way...well, hopefully when he Hollowed there wouldn't be a part of him that remained trapped to the rotting corpse.
"Where am I?" He blinked. He hadn't paid attention to where he was going. The architecture around him was unfamiliar...or rather, it was far too familiar. Decaying buildings with symbols of worship. He traced a hand through the wall; despite its appearance it was solid and there was little dust clinging to his fingertips. He must have stepped into another part of town that was new.
The humming was growing louder. He looked around him, though he knew it was futile. It was in his mind, like everything else that was happening. There were few people in this part of town; a few priests and even bandits milling around, "Priests and bandits together? Impossible..." He bit his lower lip. Not being able to see the truth of things was frustrating, to say the least.
It was becoming harder to move. He stumbled into an alley, his hands covering his ears to try and block out the humming. With every second that passed it continued to grow louder, "Shut up...get out of my head..." He shut his eyes tightly in frustration. He was growing mad, he knew that, but he needed to keep in control. For her, everything was for her. His life was nothing compared to her.
The humming stopped. His hands left his ears and pressed against the alley's walls, "Was this what it was like for other Undead?" He mumbled.
Slow clapping from behind reached his ears. He didn't bother to look back; it was another hallucination that would pass sooner or later. Humoring it achieved nothing-
"What? No hello? I'm disappointed."
A tall figure grabbed his shoulder and forced him around. He looked up at the smiling mask and let out a grimace. The name escaped him, though he felt an immediate dislike of the man upon his first glimpse. His grip around his shoulders was tight, almost painful even. Either the man was stronger than his lithe physique would indicate or his Hollowing had adversely affected him beyond his mind.
"...Who in the abyss are you?" He pushed him off with a grunt.
"Come now, it hasn't been that long, old friend." He tipped his hat, amusement playing at his voice, "We've already partaken in this song and dance. Once in Oolacile and another in Tarbes, though I will admit that you caught me at a disadvantage in our last soiree. I knew you were angry but to think you would shoot me while my back was turned! Whatever happened to fighting honorable duels with swords."
Raziel said nothing. He stared at the black-clad figure before turning around to leave. He was a hallucination, nothing more.
"Now, now. Where are you going?" Another hand at his shoulder, "What, did you really think I was dead? You should now better than that, old friend." He clicked his tongue, "You shouldn't have left my body. You can never be sure when death claims us."
"Shut up." He shrugged off his hand and took another step to leave.
"Is that all you say after our last meeting? I'm disappointed." He was in front of him now. Raziel glared; he didn't know what he was talking about but it was beginning to get on his nerves, "I came here to check up on you." His gaze shifted to his left arm, "Ah, yes, just as scheduled. It's trying to break out, isn't it? It's been there, lurking in the dark ever since you were spat out of the kiln."
"Keep talking. I am sure you will grow tired of it at some point."
"You truly don't remember me? I'm disappointed." He let out a theatrical sigh, "Well then, why don't I get down to business?"
Before he could react the taller male took the gun from his holster and shoved it into his mouth. Raziel's eyes widened and he grabbed Chester's wrist, trying to pull it out, "Why don't I help it along?" He asked. Raziel could taste the wood in his mouth and twitched when it hit against the back of his throat, "This world is doomed and you aren't strong enough to save it. It will consume, but it will kill anyone that tries to destroy its meal before it is finished. The world will be barren, but it will remain."
"Hrrghh..." He stared up at the aristocrat defiantly.
"What? Nothing to say? No final curses? Well, I suppose this is the end then."
The shot echoed through the walls of the alley.
...
There was no pain.
Raziel looked down at the ground in shock, his right hand gripping the weapon loosely. The weapon had fired, the bullet had been spent and Chester was gone. He could see the traces of saliva in the gun's barrel; the gun had been in his mouth and he just barely got it out by the time it had fired. He looked around him - No one else was here. Not now...not before.
He had shoved the gun into his own mouth and pulled the trigger.
"Damn it..." He threw the gun against the opposite wall in frustration. Why...Why this? He knew he was losing his mind, his memories...but why was he trying to kill himself? That was...That had to have been a hallucination. There was no other explanation.
He heard the tap of soft footsteps. He rubbed his neck in discomfort and caught sight of white robes fluttering near the ground. Another nun of of some sort? He quickly appraised her features: Blonde hair that ended just below her neck and a face that belonged to a young woman. She looked him up and down, an expression of concern on her face. He felt anger bubble in his stomach; he didn't need her pity.
"Why are you still here?"
Another figure from his past? He looked ahead and stared blankly at the hooded blonde standing in front of him. Another feeling surfaced in his chest: Regret, though for what he didn't know. He stifled it before it could surface completely, "What do you want?" He snarled. He wasn't going to play her game, "Your friend tried to kill me already. What will you do next? Make me snap my own neck?"
"I don't have to." Her voice had a lyrical tilt to it, "Do you even remember who I am? What happened to me?" Silence greeted her, "I was taken by that mad dragon and put in a cage. You promised you would save me. You did it twice already; once in those catacombs and another from that vile Petrus. I waited and waited, but never came. I died alone in that cell and all you could do was kill my rotting corpse."
"Whoever you were before does not matter. All that matters is-"
"Louise. That girl who saved you?" She finished for him, "You don't see what's happening, Sir. Raziel? You're already dead. You cling to that that festering body of yours because of your obsession with her." She leaned forward till their faces were nearly touching, "What is it? Gratitude? You believe your life is hers because she saved you from that torture? Is it fear? Do you find the unknown so terrifying that you would cling to her?"
"Shut up..."
"Or is it love?" Her lips curved up in a knowing smile, "You love her? You would suffer through the fear of losing your mind simply to stay by her side?" She raised a hand and cupped his cheek softly. He shivered at the feeling of the embroidered silk against his skin "Why let yourself suffer like this? Let her go...let everything go. You do not belong to her and she does not deserve it. She looks at you and sees a Familiar, a pet. She will never love you-"
"Shut up!" He pushed her away roughly, "You speak words that have no meaning. You act as if you know who I am. You are not here; you are dead and gone. You are not here...You are not here..."
"I..I thought you cared about me..."
She appeared genuinely hurt by his refusal. A twinge of pity passed through him before he crushed it once more. Whoever she was she was dead and gone while his mind drudged up past memories. She...She wasn't here. Louise was, and she was all that mattered.
He ran. Out of the alley and into the crowds once more. He didn't know where he was going; whether it was back to Louise or simply losing himself once more in the crowds. He ignored the screams and profanities coming from the people he had bumped into. He needed to get away. He would stay until this war ended no matter what, even if it meant losing his remaining memories. Once she was safe then he would-
He tripped.
He let out a hiss of pain as his hands scraped against the rough ground. A few hooded monks turned to look at him but no one bothered to help him up. He looked at his scratched palms. Thankfully they weren't bleeding though was a hint of redness coming from the rough lines. He didn't mind; the pain helped clear his mind and allowed him to focus.
"...Raziel? Is that you?"
That voice. He looked up and his eyes widened as he caught sight of the dark-haired young woman, "S-Siesta...is that you?" No, this was impossible. First that masked aristocrat and now that nun...his memories were simply leaking out. Siesta was in Tristain, in that school. There was no chance of her being in Albion, much less in front of him now.
"Yes, it's me." She offered him a soft smile and knelt down in front of him, "Jessica and Uncle Scarron came here because of the lack of customers and since the school was closed they offered to take me with them. I thought I would see you again if I did, so..." A blush dusted her cheeks, "I didn't think I'd run into you out here so soon. I was going to go to the Tristanian camp when I saw you running through the crowd."
"Is it...really you?" Was this another hallucination? But she was the only one who was from this land. All around him he could see monks, knights, priests and other sorts that had the bearing of Lordran's denizens. She hadn't been changed.
"Raziel? Is...Is something wrong?" She looked down at his injured hands. The left had been covered completely by a glove but the right showed a few light scratches, "I know we said our goodbyes in Tristain but...but I wanted to see you again. I'm sorry if it's a bother-"
She didn't get to finish. Raziel grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a desperate kiss.
Being Undead was an odd feeling, Wardes mused.
His body felt odd, almost hollow in a way. Sheffield confirmed that his blood no longer flowed; not that he needed it considering his new lease on 'life', but it still felt...uncomfortable wasn't the right word, but there was no other way he could describe. It felt as if he was walking around while donning a full suit of antiquated armor. He felt like a prisoner in his own body.
His magic had dulled as well. He supposed he should have expected that - The blood of a noble was what allowed them to practice their God given gifts. He could still cast lightning (to which he was forever thankful for) but there was no doubt he only had a scrap of his previous power.
And yet Lord Cromwell still trusted him. Perhaps it was nothing more than amusement or curiosity for his survival. He accepted, of course; he had nowhere else to go and Sheffield had been his only source of 'Humanity', as she called it. Truly he knew nothing about the dark clumps save that they allowed him keep his sanity and the appearance of normalcy.
"Hey, you alright?" Fouquet turned to look back at him, her brows knotted, "Keep up. We don't want to keep her waiting."
"Of course." He nodded.
He and the thief had been given the task of 'guarding' Lady Sheffield for this mission, though he had the distinct feeling that she would have no problem protecting herself should the need ever arise. He didn't miss the Golems that were not-so-subtly following after them. They were far more life-like than others he'd seen, even from the so-called 'acclaimed' Mage Thief Fouquet.
"What exactly are we doing here?" She slowed down to walk beside him. Ahead of them Sheffield walked on, uncaring for their conversation, "Does she plan to attack the town? Even with those Golems she can't take down thousands of troops all on her own. Not to mention the truce..."
"You couldn't be foolish enough to believe that the truce would be honored?" He scoffed. They'd broken it once already.
"No, of course not. But not so soon after the last incident." She shrugged.
He frowned. He still remembered it clear as day: Dying on that ship only to wake up in the burning ruins. He'd found out later that a 'miracle' had burned the entire fleet to the ground and that few survived the ordeal. Many in the camps whispered among themselves that Father Brimir had come to punish them for serving a 'False Successor'. Still, almost none actually left - Money always trumped belief in the end.
He had to admit the idea of breaking a treaty not once but twice was audacious even for him. It was hypocritical of him to think so considering his past actions, but he did wonder how anyone would come to trust the new regime if they had a reputation of breaking offers of peace not once but twice in quick succession. He supposed it didn't matter in the end; so long as they helped him with his goals then they could as they pleased.
"You need not worry. This will not be traced to us," Sheffield interjected, still facing ahead. The pair looked at one another uneasily - They weren't friends in any sense of the word, though their status as 'Outsiders' conferred a certain sense of kinship. They weren't indoctrinated to believe in the cause nor were they tempted by the simple bribery of coin. Reconquista didn't fully trust them and that feeling was certainly mutual.
"If you say so..." Fouquet acceded.
The rest of the walk was undertaken in silence. Fouquet grew increasingly uncomfortable as they began to near the town. If they honestly expected her to attack the town then they could go fuck themselves; she wasn't about to commit suicide for their cause.
"Stop." Sheffield raised a hand, "We're here. This should be good enough." She looked over the buildings slowly. Due to the terms of the truce almost the entire army of seventy thousand resided in the port town. She couldn't tell if they had a plan up their sleeve or they sincerely believed that the truce would be honored simply because of the upcoming advent festival.
"Fools..." She let out a wry smile and muttered a quick incantation. The ring of Andvari's gem glowed briefly before dissipating into mist. Andvari's ring had many uses. Control was only but one of its capabilities. She watched as the mist slowly nudged into the direction of the town. Soon the entire city would be covered and those inside would be driven to madness.
It was remarkably similar to the Hollowing experienced by the Undead in her homeland.
She looked back; The Undead and the thief were looking at her in confusion. She scoffed; it wasn't her idea to have them escort her, "You two stay here. I will go into the town to see if the enchantment works properly."
"But-"
"You do not need to worry. I will meet you here within the hour."
"I...apologize for my rash behavior."
He looked away from her and mimicked a cough. They had gone to a nearby inn, if only to avoid the staring of the monks and priestesses that followed due to his actions. It wasn't any of their business what he did with his...friend, but Siesta had turned red after his sudden overtures and they needed privacy if they hoped to talk properly. Thankfully he still had coin on him, though he didn't know how much they translated to; he'd simply tossed a couple of gold circles at the pardoner before he eagerly directed them to the closest vacant room.
"N-No, it's alright!" Siesta replied quickly. Her face was still a deep shade of red, though the bright smile took his attention off her crimson cheeks, "I-I mean, I was glad to see you too!" She laughed, rubbing the back of her head awkwardly. He thought it was cute, "It was just...unexpected is all. I didn't think I'd run into you so soon after getting here. Guess I got lucky, huh?"
"I would not call it luck..." He muttered to himself.
"Anyway, what were you running for?" She questioned. He frowned, "Oh, if you don't want to tell me then it's fine. I was just worried that-"
"I am...fine," He lied. She didn't need to know of his condition, "It was just...I missed you, that is all..." He suddenly found the night sky outside fascinating. At the edge of his vision he could see Siesta biting her lower lip and mumbling something unintelligible, "We...I should warm the fire..." He knelt in front of the wood and flicked a small flame into it. He let out a sigh of relief at the warmth.
He trudged back to the bed where she was sitting and sat next to her, "How...How are you?"
"Fine. I was more worried about you." She wrung her fingers together, "Julien told me that he was assigned to one of the ships in the fleet. I tried to find him too, but I haven't had any luck." She forced a laugh, "I'm sure he's fine though. He told me that it was one of the larger ships, so it wouldn't have been at the front of the fleet."
"Julien?"
"Yes, my brother." He gave her a blank look, "Um...you do remember, right? He was there when we went to Tarbes."
"Oh...yes, of course." He nodded. The name didn't hold any familiarity with him but he didn't bother to dwell on it, "Apologies, I have simply had a lot on my mind."
"No, it's alright. I know you have your problems." She gave him a sad smile, "I was nervous the entire way here. You told me before that you...you didn't have much longer left before you..."
"...I am still here." He did his best to give a comforting smile.
"Yes, but for how long?" She balled her hands into fists, "I don't want this to be goodbye, Raziel. I've lost too many loved ones already..."
A memory flashed in his mind: Tarbes. An invading fleet. Burning the bodies of the deceased. Killing Chester in that grave.
How many of her friends had she already buried? Her father had nearly died there and if he hadn't ravaged those corpses then she would have lost even more, "I..cannot promise that I will be here for much longer..." Her expression fell. He tentatively reached an arm out and took his hand in hers, "But...that does not mean that we cannot cherish what little time we have with one another."
"What do you mean-"
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in another kiss. The first thing he noticed was the smell of perfume; sweet and smelling of strawberries. Her eyes widened briefly at the sudden contact before they closed and she leaned in as well, pressing her body against his. Her lips were soft, and he slowly found himself growing addicted to the feeling.
She drew back. He looked worried for a brief moment before he caught sight of her smile, "Sorry, just needed to breath for a bit..." She licked her lips, her face flushing a dark red. He felt a tingle run through his body before he grabbed the back of her neck and crashed his mouth into hers.
She gasped, her hands going to his side in surprise at the sudden attack. And it certainly was an attack; she could feel his desperation to continue. Just barely she fumbled to the buttons of his shirt before she clumsily removed them one by one. His skin still felt somewhat cold, though the warmth of the fire was enough to dull the chill she felt between her fingers.
He tilted his head downwards and winced as he felt their noses bump into one another, "Ah, sorry-"
It was her turn to reciprocate. Raziel let out a soft moan as her hand trailed down his chest before stopping between his legs and giving a firm squeeze, "Ahh..." He bit back a cry of pleasure. This was...he had never experienced something like this before. He raised his right to cup her cheek while his left-
A sudden feeling of shame washed over him. He looked down at his left arm: Dark and corrupted, an obvious sign of his growing madness. It was...she would be disgusted when she finally saw it. He was not human, not anymore. He closed his eyes and lowered his right hand.
"Siesta, I am-"
"It's alright." She gave him a comforting smile, her free hand touching his blackened limb gently. He couldn't feel anything.
"But I-"
"I love you. Both the good parts and the bad." Her hand glided down the length of his arm, "You don't have to be ashamed in front of me, Raziel. Never..."
"Thank you..."
She let out a squeak of surprise as he suddenly pushed her down. She bit her tongue to keep from moaning as he left a trail kisses down her neck, "I love you as well..." Her hold on him tightened. That was...That was the first time he'd told her he loved her.
He looked down at her and swallowed nervously. The warm light of the fire radiated from her skin and he felt a burst of lust course through him. Her eyes were closed, waiting for his next move. If this was to be their last night together then he would make sure he had no regrets.
He nervously lowered his hand to her chest and began the slow process of undressing her.
This war was going better than he expected.
Julio hummed to himself softly as he walked through the camp. He joined the campaign on the orders of his master, but he had been cynical of the outcome. Lady Valliere's power of the Void was amazing, almost prodigious in a way. What she lacked in experience she more than made up for in versatility and raw power. His master's offensive capabilities were...he didn't want to disparage his beloved master but it was rather lacking. He more than made up for it with his intelligence and force of will, but power would be needed in the coming days.
The soldiers gave him glances as he passed by but none dared to move from their drunken revelry. Given the direction the war was going the soldiers - most of which consisted of hired mercenaries - seemed to consider it cause enough to celebrate. He would have advocated caution since it was the better part of valor, but they didn't believe in the words of a priest and he disliked using his gifts for such pointless gestures.
He paused when he stood in front Louise's tent. He'd seen Raziel leave for town not too long ago so he wasn't worried about the presence of her overprotective guardian. Still, the next course of action he planned to undertake would prove to be...risky.
Convincing her to come with him to Romalia.
He had grown adept in the manipulation of others, though his gifts no doubt helped with that; from what few scattered memories he managed to remember clearly it was a gift his past incarnation shared. But Lady Valliere - and indeed all Void Mages and their Familiars - were immune to his gifted abilities. He did not know the reason, but he presumed it was a precaution by Allfather Brimir to prevent strife between his blessed disciples.
It was just too bad Lady Sheffield's master thought otherwise.
"Ms. Valliere?" No reply. His brows knotted together briefly before he pushed inside the shadowed tent.
Darkness greeted him, though it didn't take him long to adjust to the dark interior. He walked inside quietly and surveyed the room: Apart from Lady Valliere sleeping on the bed there nothing of note.
He grabbed a stool and sat in front of her, watching her carefully - He could make out the marks of recent tears on her pale face. He sighed; she did have his sympathy, truly she did, but their responsibilities to this world outweighed any petty problems they might have had. His master and he had sacrificed much to get this far and, while he disliked the thought of asking her, she would have to follow in their examples.
"Lady Valliere, please wake up." He leaned forward and nudged her gently.
"Mmm...what?" She blinked herself and sat up, her hand trying to stifle a yawn. She looked around quickly before her eyes met his, "J...Julio? Is that you?"
"Indeed it is, my lady." He smiled.
"What are...why the heck are you in my tent?" He raised an eyebrow. No blushing, no stuttering or hesitation of any sort. At best she seemed annoyed at his intrusion, "Where's Raziel? He was-"
"He went for a walk in town, presumably to clear his head." He shrugged lightly, "He will be back in due time, I believe."
"What!?" She sat up straight, her eyes wide, "Well, I have to go get him! He barely remembers why we're here and-"
He reached out and grabbed her wrist firmly, "Lady Valliere, please, we need to talk."
"There's no time." She shook her head, "Raziel's out there and he barely remembers who I am! If he dies and I'm not there-"
"Then his time would have come. Your presence would not change that."
"You're wrong." She scowled at him, "He's here because of me! It's my fault that he's here so it's my responsibility to-"
"If you trust him then you will leave him be." He let go of her hand and did his best to give a comforting smile, "If you insist in following after him then I implore that you at least hear me out first. I...have a request to make."
"A request?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Yes. Note that I say a request, not an order." He steepled his hands together, "I do not require your answer now. Just hear me out and I promise that I will help you in searching for your errant Familiar. Is this acceptable?"
"Urgh...alright." She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "Well, hurry up. What do you want me to do?"
"I request that when this war reaches its end that you come with me to Romalia."
Louise blinked. Once, twice, three times. Her mouth opened to form a response but nothing came out. Julio laughed in slight amusement; his request was simple and straightforward.
"Is something the matter, my lady? I merely extend an invitation to visit Romalia, I do not propose marriage." He leaned back on the chair, "We will be going back to Tristain first, of course, in order to gain formal permission from Queen Henrietta. I simply wished to inform you beforehand."
"You..want me to come to Romalia? Why? I mean, it's not a difficult request, but what reason would you ask this?"
"To be frank - My master wishes to meet with you." Honesty was never the best policy in his line of work, but he had to take a chance, "I am not forcing you, my lady. Simply give me your answer when you deem it appropriate."
"No, I already know. I-"
Gunshots reverberated from outside. Louise's eyes widened and she pushed past him to the entrance.
"Ms. Valliere, wait!"
He rushed out only to bump into the pinkette standing frozen at the entrance, her mouth open in shock. He looked at her worriedly before he followed her gaze.
Madness greeted them. Soldiers that had not too long ago been singing together in drunken revelry attacked one another like feral animals. He could hear screaming from all around and he covered his ears to muffle the earsplitting shrieks - It wasn't just their screams, but the sound of their very sanity breaking apart. The runes on his right hand glowed, trying to understand what was happening.
"Wh-What's going on!?" Louise yelled.
Her scream attracted attention. One soldier rushed at them, his eyes blank and his mouth floating like a rabid dog. Julio grabbed Louise and pulled her close to him, his free hand fumbling for his flintlock. He took a moment to steady himself before pulling the trigger.
The man's neck exploded in a small stream of blood. Louise screamed once more, but he was already moving. He unsheathed his sword and called Azuro to him - He could feel the very air around him distorting, trying to drive him mad, "We must keep moving." He ran quickly, doing his best not to draw attention to either of them. The madmen were too busy attacking one another to notice them.
"Let go of me!" She struggled in his grip, her eyes focused on the town.
"Ms. Valliere, we must leave now!"
"I'm not leaving Raziel behind!" She snarled.
"To go there would be suicide!" He could feel Azuro drawing closer. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the camp's edge, "He wouldn't want you to die for him!"
"But-"
"We will save him if we can, but we must focus on ourselves first!" His dragon landed with a powerful crash, "We can search for him when this madness leaves them; any other option is too risky." He stepped onto the dragon's back and offered her his hand, "Trust me!"
Louise looked at him then back at the town once more. Julio's eyes were pleading, begging her to save herself.
She couldn't. Not without him.
"I'm going back for Raziel!"
"Ms. Valliere!" His cries fell on deaf ears as she ran to the chaotic town.
"Urgh!" Raziel let out a grunt of pain as the Hollow wrung his neck, its blank eyes gazing hatefully at him. He punched the Undead's midsection desperately, but the sounds of cracking ribs did little to dull his attacker's ferocity.
How did this happen? At one moment he had been consummating his relationship with Siesta and the next a Hollow had stumbled into their room to attack him. Was this another falsehood? Another attempt of his mind to force him to let go?
The pain certainly felt real enough.
"Let go of him!"
A knife passed through the Hollow's neck. He saw its mouth widen in shock before it crumpled to the ground, black blood pooling around its corpse.
Siesta looked at the dead body, her eyes and mouth open in shock. Raziel rubbed his neck to try and alleviate the pain, "Th..Thank you..." He felt weak, his mind clouded. His vision was foggy; there was a mist that permeated his sight and made it difficult to see.
"I...I killed him..." She muttered blankly, staring down at her bloody hands.
"He was already dead..."
"That was the innkeeper! Why would he just...why did he attack us? It makes no sense..."
"Innkeeper?" It wasn't an Undead. It acted as such; vague memories of mad Hollows attacking him to the bitter end. He closed his eyes in agitation as the humming returned, almost maddeningly loud. Siesta placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him - Despite the almost deafening hum she appeared none the worse for wear, her present shock excluded.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"...It does not matter. We must leave." He pulled the knife from the Hollow's neck and put on his shirt. The sudden attack left them in a partial state of undress; "Put on your clothes quickly. We will not be safe here much longer." He grit his teeth. The humming was making it difficult to focus. Just barely he heard Siesta mention screams from the outside; he sincerely hoped he'd misheard.
Of course it was never that simple.
Undead attacking in the streets, innocent people trying and failing to fight them off. He heard Siesta muffle a scream from behind him and her grip on his back tightened, her fingers digging into his flesh, "...What do you see?" He raised the knife. It wouldn't be enough to defend them both properly, but he had little choice. He let out a noise of displeasure as he saw five corrupted Oolacilians pushing down a screaming priestess before biting down, ripping off chunks of flesh with their teeth. He could see the raw Humanity pooling in the crimson liquid.
He couldn't deny that a part of him felt compelled to join them.
"People killing one another...eating each other...Oh God, this is a nightmare..." She shook her head, "Let's go...we can't stay here."
"Agreed."
They ran, weaving through the alleys to try and avoid their attention. A few turned to look at them, their gazes lingering on Siesta, before they trailed to him. He couldn't tell if it was fear or recognition that they felt towards him, but as soon as they caught sight of him they immediately looked away and continued in their depravities. Did they see him as another one of them? Why? He had been attacked before.
"Stop it..." More humming, though he could make out voices. Their words were like twisted lullabies, urging him to sleep and let go, "Get out of my head..." His left hand flared, shadows spilling out in a toxic haze. Control, he had to keep himself in control.
"Raziel...are you okay?" Siesta's voice cut through the deafening hum.
"Yes...why?" He turned to look back at her and she flinched.
"Your eyes..."
"What do you mean? I can see just fine-"
"They're completely black..." She swallowed audibly, turning to look away from him, "Just...please be careful. Whatever's happening to these people I don't want you to go mad as well."
"I am..I can control it. Come, we have to-"
The next few seconds were a blur: He heard her scream and she pushed him away. He landed on his back with a dull thud before something crashed in front of him, right where he had been previously standing. He looked up with a grimace at the metallic Golem; it was missing its head but it did little to dull the danger he felt upon seeing the large trident it held in its hand.
It raised the trident and smashed it downwards.
He stumbled back, barely avoiding the attack, "What in the-"
"Raziel, are you alright!?"
"I am fine!" He winced at the slight pain going down his back. The Golem crawled forward slowly, nearly crushing him once more, "Siesta you have to leave!"
"But-"
"Go!" He dodged its oversized palm and stabbed the knife into its wrist. He hated the idea of leaving her by herself, but whatever this...creature was he couldn't let it hurt her, "I will meet you at the edge of the town!"
He saw her torn expression for a brief moment before she ran, losing his sight at the alley's turn. He let out a soft sigh of relief before turning to look back at the creature, "What are you...?" He tried to pull the knife from its 'skin' but the blade remained embedded into the metallic limb. Abyss take him, he couldn't fight this monstrosity unarmed.
Sensing his hesitation the creature lunged, smacking him to the alley's wall with a powerful sweep. His scream of pain was interrupted as the creature attacked him once more, using the trident to pin him against the wall. His hand tried to push the metal away, but its grip remained strong.
It hurt...everything hurt. He could feel his ribs crack, the bones jutting out of his sides unnaturally. He could taste blood pooling around his mouth and he spat out a vile mix of black and red fluids. A lurching feeling spread through his left arm all the way to his face. Dark veins spread through his shoulders up to the left side of his face, rotting the flesh from within.
"...I must admit I'm disappointed."
He looked up at the sudden voice.
A Daughter of Chaos. He couldn't make out her features through the darkness, but he knew that's what she was. The runes in his left hand glowed in response to her presence and he let out a snarl.
Sheffield looked at the creature in slight pity. She'd sensed the presence of another Void Familiar, but this...this was honestly disappointing. He gave him credit for not losing himself to the madness like the humans had, but to think that one of the blessed Familiars would be nothing more than an Undead. The Familiars were chosen from the divine, from those who carried the best of those who remained.
This was a monster. And a frail one at that.
"You are even more pathetic than the priest," She scoffed, "I thought you would prove to be a danger but you can barely stand on your own two feet."
"Who...are you?"
"No one to concern yourself with." The Golem pressed him against the wall harder. He could see a glow emanating from beneath her hood, "I admit that I despise creatures like you. My master would want you to live, as merciful as he is, but I see no purpose in your continued existence." Her lips curled up in a predatory smile and her right hand flared with bright fire, "Burn like the rest of your kind."
The snap of the fingers were quickly followed by a pillar of fire erupting from underneath, "Arghhhhh!" The Golem released its hold on him, letting him fall onto the ground. He rolled and struggled, trying in vain to put out the flames. The pain was agonizing, but it was nothing to the images he recalled: Burning in front of an altar, the smoke invading every orifice. He remembered the sacrifices made by the fearful, innocents burned out of fear of perceived heresy.
He could hear the witch laughing, finding amusement in his pained struggles, "Resilient, aren't you?" She clapped slowly, "If you can survive till the fire ends then I suppose you deserve to 'live' for a little bit longer."
Burning. He was burning. "Rahhhhhhh!" He screamed once more, memories of the kiln flooding into his mind and threatening to overwhelm him. The witch gave him one final smile before departing, her Golem trailing after her loyally. He wanted to kill her, to wring her neck till she choked on her own spit, but the pain was too much. He screamed till he grew too weak to do so.
Eventually the fires faded. He lied down on the ground, his gaze empty as he looked up at the night sky. He couldn't move; it hurt far too much to even blink. Through broken eyes he could see the final rune on his left hand glowing, the blackened limb trying to spread its influence over his weakened body. More memories came into his mind, showing him events of a live he never lived.
He remembered everything.
"Raziel...Raziel...!" Distant voices called to him, speaking a name that held no meaning.
Manus closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
"Everything's happened before?"
She'd done a lot of things as a Queen that she wouldn't have thought possible. Declaring war was certainly the most severe she could think of, but many others came to mind. She'd done things she regretted, things she felt proud of and everything in between. Were they things she'd done as Henrietta or as the Queen? She didn't know whether there was a difference at this point.
Still, she didn't think it would involve talking with a ghost in a darkened altar room.
"What was once will be again," Alsanna replied airily. She wasn't looking at her, but Henrietta knew that the woman(?) could see her perfectly, "Kingdoms rise and fall. The Gods attempt to stave off the inevitable, but they will fail. They always fail." She stepped closer to the altar, "Light and Dark fight eternally. When one falls, the cycle begins anew with its demise."
The altar room had become their unofficial meeting point. As far as Agnes and Cardinal Mazarin were concerned she simply came here to pray for the soldiers fighting in Albion. As much as she wanted to tell Agnes of the events that had transpired two weeks prior she got the feeling that the older woman would take it far less positively than she had.
"How...How many times has this happened before?" She swallowed, trying to keep her nerves from getting the better of her. It had been the first time in days that Alsanna had shown herself once more. There was no warning, no greeting or attempts at conversation. One minute she was praying for continued safety and the next she had popped into the room asking if the memories still haunted her.
They weren't, which she took as a sign that the woman wasn't simply insane.
"Countless times. I have bore witness to it only once." Despite her airy tone she could make out a hint of uncertainty, "Like my sisters I intended to sow chaos, corrupt the land with Darkness. I...attempted to seduce my king in order to do so. He loved me, even after...after he had found out what I was. He knew what I was but he chose to love me. I grew to love him as well; our time together was brief, but will be forever cherished."
Just likes Wales, she thought to herself. Brief and bittersweet, but with no regrets, "You have my sympathies. I know what it's like to lose the one you love." She coughed awkwardly, "But...you said you had sisters?"
"We were born of the same father, yes..." She replied vaguely, "My sisters intended the same as I. Their kingdoms fell into ruin, their kings dead or gone. Nashandra, Elana and Nadalia...I wish I could have saved them, turned them from their paths. I had a...friend. She saved my king and slew my sisters in order to stop their machinations. My debt to her is more than I could ever repay."
"Help me understand something: If you were of this previous 'cycle' then how is it that you came to be here?"
She looked down, "I...am uncertain. I awoke in this land alone and have spent my time trying to understand." Understand what? "In the time I have spent here I have seen signs of previous cycles." She looked to the altar once more, "This a Godless land. Their souls still remain, but they are like you, Child of Light: Human, even if their souls still shine amidst the darkness."
"You've called me that before. I still don't understand what you truly mean or who this 'Gwynevere' is."
"Gwynevere. Goddess of Fertility, Daughter of Sunlight. She was beloved by her subjects." Henrietta blinked. That was supposed to be her? Or at least a previous iteration of her? She couldn't even sneeze without her subjects considering it uncouth, "It was before my time. My...father's memories are shared between all of us. I recall almost nothing but his fears..."
"Do you know why she...I mean, why am I remembering past memories? Why that weird magic manifested?" All things considered she was taking this rather well. Then again after finding out her best friend had a portion of Allfather Brimir's power or seeing her beloved Wales come back from the dead as a possessed corpse this was somewhat expected. It would have been far weirder if nothing bizarre happened to her.
"You have lived past your time. You were to leave your kingdom, seduced by false love. As Gwynevere was taken from her home with promises of a better future." She offered her a subtle smile, "You have escaped from death's grasp, cut the strings binding you."
"I didn't do it. My best friend...Louise was the one who saved me." She played with the black fabric covering her wrists, "I knew that my beloved was gone but I clung to the false hope that a part of him still remained. Without her I would be dead now."
"You were saved?" She paused for a moment before continuing, "The strings have been cut, the means do not matter. Your fate is now your own, Child of Light. Perhaps you can change this cycle, perhaps not." There was that smile again, "Your soul could not understand. It was to die on that day, to be reborn anew when the cycle reached its end. Your role has ended. You are free."
"I still don't understand." She sighed, "I find it truly hard to believe that all of this has happened before. I mean, I've heard from Sir. Raziel about a land where Gods ruled but this still seems impossible to me." She sat in one of the pews, "And even then, what does this knowledge change? Even you don't know everything. This...'Dark and Light' conflict is difficult to comprehend."
"Someone told you of another world?" Alsanna asked.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Louise's Familiar, he's an...Undead." She rubbed her neck and winced, "He told me of a land called Lordran where the Gods once ruled. I will admit that a part of me didn't believe him, but given everything that's happened my doubt was brief."
"Lordran? That was...of the previous cycle." Alsanna's voice grew softer, "One from the previous cycle? Impossible. The souls pass on to the next occurrence and nothing remains. How did he pass the previous cycle...?"
"Ms. Alsanna...are you alright?" Henrietta looked at her worriedly.
"Apologies, Child of Light. I simply-"
"Henrietta." The monarch interrupted, "Please don't call me by that 'title'. I am not whoever this Gwyenevere once was. I am human, not some...Goddess born to an all-powerful deity."
"...As you wish." She looked somewhat uncomfortable at the request.
"To continue, are you sure then that you came here alone? If you ended up here in this...'cycle' perhaps others did as well?"
"Perhaps. My view is limited; no being is omniscient, not even the Gods." She drew closer to the candle adorning the altar, "Light or Dark...we are all pawns in this game. Light fights against Dark, Dark fights against Light...and neither wins in the end. One cannot live without the other, but they do not know this. They fear what they do not understand. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate."
"Do you know how to change this? For this 'cycle' to end?"
"It has never ended before. My beloved attempted it, but he fell to Chaos." Her pale fingers raised, nearly touching the fire "Once the wheel turns, it cannot be stalled." She looked at Henrietta, "Humans fight, body piles upon body till blood chokes the land. The world will end and then it will born again once more."
"There has to be a way. You're here now, we could find a solution." She pressed.
"Your hope...it is inspiring." She laughed. It sounded odd to her ears; melodic and yet it sent shivers up her spine, "Perhaps you can change. You are unbound, there is no hand guiding your actions."
"Does that mean you'll help me?"
A moment's pause. Henrietta looked down at her lap before hearing a soft reply, "I will...try."
"Thank you." She did her best to give a genuine smile, "I owe you a debt for your previous aid, so if you require anything you need only but ask. I will be the first to admit that these events are still uncertain to me, but I will do my best to ensure that this cycle's end will not come to pass. With your help I...we might stop any more undue suffering from befalling our world."
"Your trust is appreciated, Chi- Henrietta." The name rolled off her tongue oddly, "My sisters are no longer of this world and I alone remain. With no Child of Dark to manipulate perhaps this cycle can truly end."
Done. I'm gonna try to write the next chapter of Shadow's Call before coming back to this so I hope this can tide people over. I apologize for how rushed the action scenes were, but I had to rush and cut this chapter - Originally Julio and Louise were supposed to meet up with Raziel in the town and then fight Sheffield, Fouquet and Wardes in a free-for-all. I had to cut it both for making the chapter last longer than I wanted it to and because they fight Sheffield later on regardless so we can save up for that.
Again, I apologize for the lackluster 'action' scene and the cringeworthy 'romance' scene. Neither are my forte and having both in this chapter was doubly hard. Don't worry; we won't be seeing much of the latter now, though the former will gain focus due to the last stand.
Simple405 - Thank you :) Dark Souls lore is difficult to write with so there are bound to be holes, so hope you keep reading.
OshiroNai - As funny as that would be it would be very out of character for him so I'll have to pass. No bionic arm either, though his left hand is clearly abnormal anyway. As for Alsanna...cute isn't what I would use.
DMD Hanafin - Not sure about that. I mean Spirit Magic is basically Devil's magic, so I can see her reluctance. From her POV it'd be like if someone sacrificed dozens to find out how blood magic works.
BloodTrinity - Cycles make everything confusing :p
Remvis - Constant torture unlikely since I dislike needless violence (despite how it appears otherwise). Regardless he's fading pretty fast, as the end of the chapter indicates.
CaptainToast321 - I understand the sentiments, so no hard feelings. Good luck with others fics.
Thaqif - While I appreciate the reviews please write only one review with all your points written across. This is not a blog board and bloating unnecessary numbers is annoying.
CrazyScythe - Not sure about colored Estus, but we'll see when DS3 comes out.