Another long pause between updates as usual. Anyway, same deal as before: Read the authors notes because it concerns the next chapter. It's going to be one of those introspective chapters and I want to hear the audience's thoughts.
"Oh, thank Brimir you're alright!" She didn't resist when Big sis Catt pulled her into a tight embrace, arms squeezing so fiercely she almost felt as if she was being smothered, "I almost can't believe it...it's you, right?" She could feel fingers brushing through her now-short hair, the smell of her sister's perfume almost lulling her to sleep right then and there. She missed her...missed them so much, missed being able to see her sister teaching classes or the few visits Princess Henrietta managed with her busy schedule and new (secret) responsibilities.
Eventually her older sister released her, allowing her to stand shakily on her own two feet, "Indeed...I'm glad you're alright, Louise." Princess Henrietta chimed in, gloved hands taking hold of her own gently. The Princess' own smile was more subdued, but she could hear the relief in her voice and see the warmth in her eyes with no difficulty, "I admit that a part of me thought you'd be dead before they could come to rescue you. I...words cannot express my relief that I was wrong." She squeezed her fingers and breathed a tired sigh.
"We have to make sure this doesn't happen again." Honored sister Eleanor muttered, ever the focused one. She didn't break down crying in relief and to be perfectly blunt Louise preferred it that way. As much as she appreciated - or even wished - to be coddled and treated with velvet gloves, the experiences she'd gone through in the past year made a part of her resent it. She'd survived Albion, she'd survived Tarbes, she'd survived the impostor of Prince Wales and she'd survived what was meant to be a suicide mission in Saxe-Gotha. Whether it was by her own merit, blind luck or Raziel's presence she was still standing.
'Raziel...'
Louise felt sick.
She should have been happy, shouldn't she? Here she was standing in front of her sisters and the princess practically unharmed; her hair would grow back, her trauma would recede - or as was more likely would be replaced by something worse in the coming days... - and according to Tabitha and the masked assassin that bastard Joseph had died, they'd made absolutely sure of it. So for now she was safe.
And all it took was Raziel and Big sis Daisy staying behind in her stead.
"Louise? What's wrong?" She heard the princess ask, but she couldn't answer. She felt like vomiting, felt like she wanted to curl into a ball and cry like an infant. It was Saxe-Gotha all over again: Someone had stayed behind for her, traded their life for hers. First it was Raziel, now it was him and Big sis Daisy both. And here she was, ever the survivor because someone kept shuffling the deck to put her away from death's reach.
She wasn't ungrateful. She was scared of dying, scared of the thought of passing since she was still so young, but she couldn't stop the guilt she felt. If it wasn't for Raziel or her sister or everyone else would she have even survived this long? Fouquet would have killed her in that forest, that craven Wardes would have killed her and Prince Wales, the impostor that took the Prince's body would have killed her with a single spell...
"...Princess, did...did Raziel and Big sis Daisy get back here before we did?"
Princess Henrietta's relieved smile dipped into a subtle frown and she already knew the answer, "No...I'm sorry, Louise. I...honestly thought they would be with you."
Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? They'd been sent there to rescue her, sent there to make sure she escaped death again. And when they stayed behind to protect her she insisted they waited, pushed and screamed and raged when they didn't come out of the tunnels and Big sis Amy told her that they had to leave lest their 'deaths be in vain'. The days it took them to escape Gallia her mind remained firmly entrenched on the state of the pair, praying to Brimir or anyone else out there who would listen that they make it out of there and that monster Sheffield be killed.
Now she wasn't sure if they were even still alive.
"Louise..." She saw Big sis Catt raise a hand towards her before pausing, her palm landing awkwardly atop her head. She wanted to comfort her, but right now nothing she could say would make her feel better, "I understand you must be in grief, but..." She bit her lower lip, considering her next words, "Raziel and Daisy are tough, they'll make it through this so please have faith. I'm sure-"
"We can't be sure of anything!" Louise snapped, immediately feeling guilty as her sister recoiled, "I...I wanna believe they're not dead, but it's been days. I'm back; Julio and Agnes are back; even Tabtiha and that masked assassin are back! It took us longer to get here because of the prisoners and having to avoid the patrols, but...but they're still not here!"
"Calm yourself, Louise!" Her eldest sister exclaimed, "I understand you're aggrieved but it's no excuse to behave like this!"
"You try being kidnapped by that madman for three weeks and see if you still remain calm!"
And now she was crying again. She wanted to avoid this, wanted to keep up hope and put on a strong front, but after everything she'd gone through it was difficult. She would calm down in time; eventually she would dry her tears and resolve herself like the first time she'd awoken in Romalia to Julio telling her Raziel had given his life for her own, and eventually logic would take hold and she would rationalize their survival given that he was an Undead and she was a Vampire.
Eventually.
Right now she just wanted to get away from them, "I'm going out..." Standing up abruptly, she ignored the worried calls of her sisters and Princess Henrietta and rushed past the door, uncaring of where her next step would take her. She just wanted to leave, to not see their looks of pity aimed right at her. Maybe it was petulant and immature of her, but she didn't care. It was painful to be there, just...just taking in their relief while two people she considered family might have been dead and big sis Amy was left alone to deal with her grief.
She didn't stop still she was out of the academy gates, the cold wind buffeting her raw cheeks. Something like this...it must have made her look silly; a young girl with rough cut hair standing out in the open with mismatched peasant clothes they managed to steal away from the villages they passed through. She didn't want to go back to her room, didn't want to put on her uniform and pretend things were going back to normal. Princess Henrietta and her family wanted her safe, wanted her to act as if the entire year she'd gone through was something that could be easily swept under the rug.
She wished she could talk to Big sis Amy, but she'd left shortly after dropping her off. Perhaps she blamed her for her sister's death? She wouldn't have faulted her for it, but somehow she had her doubts. She wasn't like that; she always had a tendency to blame herself when it came to matters concerning her twin. She never understood why.
Wiping away her tears, she took deep, slow breaths and tried to calm her thoughts. Raziel and her surrogate sister had survived worse...right? That bitch, Sheffield, she was no doubt formidable but she always hid behind her puppets and proxy soldiers. If she was there, then they could have killed her and then...
Then decided to stay in Gallia to enjoy the view?
"Rrrghhhh!" She brought a hand through her hair, grasping at the strands in frustration. She hated getting caught like this, not knowing what to do and just...just waiting! She was a Void Mage, one of the chosen successors of Allfather Brimir's legacy! Instead she felt like a helpless little girl, just waiting for Princess Henrietta or her parents to tell her when it was 'okay' to use the power she'd been given. Still the Zero...
"L-Louise?"
Turning abruptly at the sudden voice, Louise found herself staring into Tiffania's wide blue eyes, "Tiffania...you're okay." Immediately she felt a sense of deflating, her anger rushing downwards despite her previous frustrations. She had to admit that seeing her uninjured was a relief: She'd been flown away before she saw her even hit the ground and she half-thought she'd smashed her skull open on the ground. At least she knew those weeks spent with the madman weren't all for nothing, "...What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She joked weakly.
"It is you."
Before she could do anything Louise found herself being pulled into another sudden embrace, her face being buried into a waterfall of blonde hair, "Oh, Louise...I hoped you were okay..." She heard Tiffania sniffle before giving a soft laugh, "I...I'm sorry you were taken. It's because you saved me, wasn't it? I..."
"D-Don't be silly. I was just careless, that's all." She mumbled. Lying right to her face - quite literally in this case - wasn't something she enjoyed, but she didn't want to burden the poor girl any more nor did she want to hear any more pitying comforts from anyone, "Just...don't worry about it anymore, okay? King Joseph and his Familiar are dead and they aren't going to hurt anyone again. We don't have to look over our shoulders out of fear anymore..." At least for the moment, though she left that unsaid.
"I-I know, Miss. Ciaran told me." She released her hold on the older girl and gave a somewhat forced smile, "I'm just...glad you're okay."
"You and me both." She sighed, "I heard from Big sis Amy what you did, using yourself as bait for the ball just to help get me back. I...well, I just hope you weren't hurt by it. One of us getting toyed with is bad enough..."
"Um, no, Queen Henrietta and an, um, friend saved me from getting hurt." Louise raised an eyebrow. The princess was the one that saved her? That was definitely new; she'd definitely need to question her on that later (assuming she didn't try to hide that from her too), "And, well, it was the least I could do. It...I'll admit it was scary, but now that you're here it was worth it."
"Worth it..." She bit her lower lip, her fists shaking. 'Worth it', like there was an equivalency that could be easily measured, "Tiffania, have you...heard about what happened? To Raziel and my sister?"
It was Tiffania's turn to look uncomfortable. Wringing her fingers together, she looked down at the grassy earth and took a deep breath, "Um...yes, I heard from Miss. Ciaran." She grabbed Louise's hands suddenly and gave a comforting squeeze, "I'm worried for them both, but...but she was certain that Raziel at least hasn't perished...and if he's still alive then I doubt he'll leave your sister behind either."
"What? How could that..that assassin be so sure?"
"Because we are not dead yet."
Both Void Mages broke apart and turned their heads the new arrival. Louise couldn't help but frown as she caught sight of the now-unmasked assassin walking towards them. She didn't care if Tiffania trusted her or Raziel seemed to not hold her attempted killing of him against her; she wasn't willing to trust her. She'd only helped them assassinate King Joseph for Tiffania; if the Half-Elf was never targeted then she would have been content to sit back and watch.
"What do you mean by that?" Louise asked, doing her best to keep her voice level.
"Come now, child, you saw his madness first hand." She crossed her arms, her expression never changing, "I've heard tales of what he did in Saxe-Gotha, saw some of the men he'd driven mad. He may not be Manus in his entirety, but his savage nature and monstrosity is as fierce as if he was the creature reborn. Surely you've seen what he's capable of when death tries to reach for his festering body. If he were killed this land would be doomed."
"Don't talk about him like that." She hissed. She talked about him like he was some kind of...of rabid animal, "It's not Raziel's fault he has that...that taint inside him. He's doing his best to keep it under control."
"Fault or no, the point remains." Ciaran bit back, "That we stand here now and that there are no rumors of Gallia falling, it is safe to say that he has wrenched himself from death's hold once more. Rather than waste your time with pointless tantrums just wait patiently until he crawls his way back to your side once more."
Louise glared at the older woman, and yet her callous words brought her some measure of relief despite herself. If Raziel was alive then so was her sister, or at least that was what she sincerely hoped. Until they came back she would do whatever she could - however little it may have been - to push past everything.
Louise was back. One problem solved, and at least three more in its place.
Henrietta closed the door to the abandoned dorm room and leaned back against it, exhaling softly. She thought getting Louise back and killing off the Mad King would grant her a reprieve, however slightly, but already her mind was formulating scenarios. Raziel and Lady Daphne hadn't arrived back with the others and meanwhile Julio, Agnes and her musketeers had failed in their task. While she worried for the safety of the former she couldn't deny the possibility that they could be linked to her despite the disguises and precautions they'd undertaken. If push came to shove she would have to publicly disavow them and turn them into wanted criminals.
Also, apparently the Mad King had a pact with the Elves.
"Brimir damn it all..." She muttered, her frustration mounting. As if that wasn't bad enough she had to deal with those prisoners Louise had chosen to take with her. While she admired her best friend's kindness even in the face of such adversity what did she expect her to do about? It was a minor miracle that most of them had chosen to break off from the larger group, citing that they had family and friends who would care for them in their time of need, but at least a handful remained.
She couldn't grant them official clemency or asylum; they weren't supposed to leave a trace of their presence, much as she pitied them. How was she supposed to be certain they were all innocents? No one deserved that mad Witch's torture, but that didn't equate to the possibility of true lack of responsibility. It was risky enough vouching for Tiffania as an honored guest of the crown, she couldn't extend official assistance to prisoners she had no right to be seen with let alone aiding.
"You lied to me."
And of course there was this.
Opening her eyes, she stared blankly at the blue haired princess sitting on the windowsill. She'd been putting off having this conversation all day, trying to think up any excuse or justification she could muster to placate the royal prodigy. She didn't know the exact details of her history, but royalty generally didn't function and survive being hired assassins and problem solvers if they weren't more than a little adept in their spellcraft. She was a triangle Mage herself and she doubted she could even do a quarter of the things she'd been forced to undertake the past five years.
"...They had an Elf on their side...Agnes and the rest were outmatched."
Of course she had nothing she could say. What words could she use to sweep it all away? Having an Elf was definitely an advantage she hadn't expected, but considering the trump cards she had on her own deck she doubted the younger girl would consider it an excuse.
"You promised me my mother would safe." Lady Charlotte's voice remained level, but she could feel the barely restrained anger already, "I trusted you."
"Considering the circumstances of our arrangement, that's a pretty bold proclamation to make." As soon as the words left her mouth she immediately felt like taking them back. She sympathized with the younger girl to a certain degree, and while she was still leery of her intentions she couldn't deny that her information had proved fruitful despite the bumps on the road. So long as his successor didn't catch on they could stop looking over their shoulders at insane monarchs and instead focus on the pre-destined doom the world was supposed to undergo.
...
She needed a drink.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed, but she made no other move to express her displeasure, "...Fine-"
"We will get your mother back." Henrietta interrupted, cutting her off before she could leave, "Agnes assured me that the Elf who had incapacitated them left both them and her alive for a reason. We...We must be careful about this. Rumors are already spreading about King Joseph's death and marching a platoon of soldiers to search for one woman isn't going to send a good message. This must be handled with care."
"I can go myself-"
Henrietta was quick to cut her off, "Out of the question. Apologies, Lady Charlotte, but from what you told me about this Isabella character there's little doubt in my mind that you'll be the first of her suspects in this. You leave that border and there's nothing I or anyone else can do to help you." She pinched the bridge of her nose, making a sound at the back of her throat, "I wouldn't be surprised if she's drafting a letter to summon you right now, so I implore you to please be patient. King Joseph might be dead, but his machinations still go on."
"I cannot just sit here and do nothing." She replied, though it had noticeably less edge to it, "There must be something..."
"I know how you feel, but sometimes discretion is the better part of valor." The monarch gave the princess a wry smile. She knew exactly how she felt, "There must have been a reason Agnes and the rest weren't simply killed. Given the relationship between Elves and our nations I'm inclined to believe that it was an Elven mercenary of some kind. Without his employer we could make separate offer..."
"...Or he could kill my mother."
"Yes." She replied bluntly. Lying to her would have been futile and frankly insulting, "But if what you told me is true then you were never truly safe so long as that madman lived." An exhausted breath passed from parted lips, "I apologize that I could not save your mother, Lady Charlotte, I truly do. But we cannot do anything more at this time so I implore you to be patient. If your mother yet lives then we will find her, you have my word on that."
"How? She has an elf guarding her." The fallen royal frowned, hands running along the length of her staff, "Who will you send?"
"First we have to find this supposed mercenary and make a deal if we can" Henrietta replied, "But if that fails? Given the circumstances I would send both Lady Daphne and Lady Amethyst along with Raziel to to do so; their spirit magic and his control of the abyssal arts might prove the weapon we need to surpass the Elven Counter magic." She looked away in frustration, "But of course Lady Daphne and he are...currently indisposed. Sir Ciaran seems to believe that they both yet live, so we can only wait until their recovery."
"And if they're dead?"
If they were dead then...honestly she had no idea what she would do. As tense as her interactions with the unstable Manus shard were she couldn't deny that she needed his aid, needed the raw strength and brutality that came with having a portion of the Progenitor of Man inside onself; something she wasn't certain she could receive from Alsanna much as she trusted her. As she'd admitted back in Albion, she needed a weapon if she had any chance of stopping this endless wheel of pre-destined doom.
And Lady Daphne? She didn't know her very well, but she did know her twin was devoted to her; perhaps above the friendship she shared with the Valliere's and her responsibilities to the crown. If her sister perished then she half-doubted the other Vampire would stay in her service.
"Then we'll deal with it when it comes." She said, not knowing what else to answer.
Charlotte gave a barely perceptible nod before leaning back, allowing herself to fall from the window. Eyes widening, Henrietta rushed forward and found the girl landing safely on the ground below, a levitation spell slowing her descent, "Right...of course she would do that." She covered her face with gloved hands and sighed. She was becoming paranoid, always assuming the worst. It was something she needed to improve on now that their circumstances were (marginally) improving.
Sitting down on the bed briefly, she removed her shoes and lied down, closing her eyes and allowing her mind to wander. When she'd heard Louise had come back she cancelled all her appointments so she could see her for herself. No doubt any visitors and courtiers she was supposed to meet had been supremely offended by the abrupt cancellation and there were only so much excuses she could give Cardinal Mazarin and her mother before they started questioning her constant absences. No doubt they would push, insist that if she had problems then they would listen with no hesitations.
Of course she could never tell them. Her mother broke when father died, what else for knowing the truth of how the world worked? And Cardinal Mazarin, how would he react to the blasphemy that came from her tongue? Proclaiming herself the reincarnation of some forgotten Goddess, claiming that Allfather Brimir really wasn't the one true God and that other deities predated him? She would be lucky if she wasn't confined to her room as if she were some madwoman.
A knock on the door caused her to crack one eye open. Before she could respond a hooded woman pushed the door open, closing it behind her as soon as she got inside, "...I recognize you." She sat up on the bed, quickly sitting properly to make herself more presentable, "You're...one of the prisoners Louise brought back, yes? What are you doing here?" She'd allowed them to stay in one of the abandoned dorm rooms since there were relatively few of them. How did she find her?
The woman stood in awkward silence at the entrance, pale fingers grasping each other, "I..." She took a deep breath and stood up straighter, "A...mutual acquaintance told me to come here, though I know not why. She...said she would explain when I arrived."
"A mutual acquaintance? Who..."
She didn't bother masking her exasperation as the room grew colder, causing the former prisoner to shiver and the monarch to purse her lips, "Alsanna..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. While she appreciated the Dark Child's assistance and considered her a friend, she had to admit she was slowly growing more and more put-off by her unexpected appearances. Would a little warning ahead of time been so difficult?
"Henrietta." The Child of Dark greeted back, materializing in-between them. Henrietta saw the prisoner's hand clench into shaky fists, "I apologize for how sudden this seems, but I had thought this would be worthy of your attention once you finished conversing with the others."
"I understand." She stood up from the bed, arms crossed, "What is it that you wish to tell me and how does it concern her?"
"It think it better if she show you." Alsanna turned to the hooded prisoner and nodded, her lips quirked in a comforting smile, "Remove the covering from your face, Child of Fire. You are in no danger in this sanctuary."
Henrietta wanted to ask what she meant, but the prisoner's next actions caused the words to die in her mouth. As the cloth fell away and exposed the white hair and pale flesh of her face she was hit with a sudden bout of nostalgia, recognition burning at the back of her mind, "I...I know you." The words had passed her lips before she could fully grasp them. The prisoner's features bore the telltale marks of abuse, the fatigue of sleepless nights, but despite it all she held a beauty that couldn't be denied even after the discoloration of her hair and flesh.
A name came to her: Quelaan, daughter of the Witch of Izalith.
"She said you would..." Quelaan mumbled, throwing a cautionary glance the woman wearing the crown of ice, "Quelara told me of this, that certain souls had returned to the earth even after they passed the threshold of death."
"No, I...I am not Gwynevere." She shook her head, trying to keep her vision from fading, "If what Alsanna says is true then I was born with her soul, but that does not make us one and the same-"
"As she is not her 'Father', yes." The Witch interrupted, eyes glancing sideward at Alsanna, "Worry not. After the...hospitality I received under Quelara's care I know better than to judge based on the right and wrong taught to us so long ago." She pulled her hood up, covering her features once more, "But that is not what I came here to discuss. She has asked for my presence here, asked for my...aid."
"Aid?" Henrietta looked her friend questioningly.
"She is another, a survivor of the first cycle. Her aid could prove invaluable even if it might not seem apparent at first."
"My aid with what, exactly?" Quelaan asked, "I questioned you beforehand but you did not explain yourself. I think I have waited long enough and you have my assurances that I will aid you so long as what it is you seek does not hurt innocents like my sister wished."
"One moment. Henrietta...where is my brother? I promised we would converse properly when he returned, but I cannot feel his presence. Has he been delayed?"
Henrietta bit her lip. Just another thing she had to deal with: Telling Alsanna - someone who'd been convinced that she was alone ever since she awoke and was delighted that she now had a 'brother' - that said 'sibling' was possibly dead. She didn't express her emotions easily, it was easy to tell glance, but it only made the muted, earnest curiosity she was giving her all the more painful.
"Alsanna...it's possible he might be dead."
"Partner, wake up!"
Raziel's eyes snapped open and he sat up, the cold stone of the slab he was sitting against chilling despite rough blanket covering him, "...This seems familiar..." He grimaced and coughed, the taste of blood on his tongue promising further misfortunes, "I think I preferred the bed..." He swallowed the blood pooling around his mouth and swung his legs over the edge, bare feet hitting against the floor as he grimaced. Already he was feeling a sense of dizziness and discomfort at the brief contact. Never a good sign given previous indications so far.
Forcing himself to stand, he found himself quickly losing balance and being forced to lean on the elevated stone to keep himself balanced. The room around him was small, made of crude stone and containing equally covered corpses in other slabs serving as tables. One sniff at the air and he could already tell where he was: A mortuary. The smell of embalming fluid and formaldehyde in the air was unmistakable as was the stench of rot from the other decomposing bodies. It was either that or he was back in the asylum, though at this point he wasn't sure which would be worse.
Standing up straighter, he frowned as he felt another cold chill pass through his entire body, "They took all my clothing..." He scowled. Save the chain stubbornly still wrapped around his left wrist he was as bare as the day...well, as the day a normal human would have been born. Perfect; bad enough that he was here, now they left him with no sense of dignity either...then again it wasn't as if the other corpses kept their belongings either. Robbing the dead was the norm if one couldn't afford respect via name or coin, he'd learned that long ago.
His body had also reverted, if the paleness and size of his hand was any indication, "I suppose the enchantment from the mirror finally passed." He took a shaky step and felt something dripping down his chest, "What the...?" He looked down and scowled at the deep cuts marring his chest and stomach. The incisions were wide, covered in crude stitches that did little to stem the tide of blood that was released by his movement. Something was wrong; he felt lighter, like something had been taken from him.
"That'd be your organs, partner. No respect for the dead, I tell ya."
"Derflinger...?" His voice was soft, barely heard despite the silence of the room. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself away from the slab and ignored the pain on his upper body. He was naked and injured, but it didn't matter. He wasn't in that Witch's dungeon, that was good enough for him, "Where..Where are you?"
"Not in that room, if that's what your thinking." His partner's voice seemed to echo all around, "I'm in your head...well, kinda. I'm still really in my sword, but I pulled a trick or two so we can talk. Costs a shitload of willpower, but hey it's easier than forcing your body to move myself so no biggie."
"Right..." He wasn't going to question it. There was no point to it, "Where...Where are we...?"
Was Louise okay? They'd stayed behind to fight the Witch for her sake, all so she and Amethyst could escape without fear of further reprisal. Had she made it out? Was she safe? If she was hurt then all of this was for naught...
"A morgue, what's it look like?" He heard him give a dry chuckle, "You and little miss bloodsucker got into a fight, remember? It's a miracle you didn't kill each other. Speaking of which, what is with you and her? This is like, what, the third time you guys decided to start a brawl? If I didn't know any better I'd think you two didn't like each other."
"I do not, but that is besides the point..." He stumbled onto a nearby table and grabbed for the bandages clumsily. They felt rough against his skin and they certainly didn't look all that sanitary, but anything that would stop the blood was welcome, "You...You said they took things from me...?" He wrapped the rough cloth around whatever wounds he could reach before wrapping a layer around his hands and between his legs. Better to keep as much covered as he could.
"Yeah, a few organs and whatever else they could grab. You'd be surprised what these sickos here can use em for. Let's just say not every golem is made out of earth and metal, if you catch my drift...and if you don't then too bad cause I don't wanna explain."
"I understand..." Images of Nito and the rest of the necromancers came and went, "Why...Why would they stitch the wounds, then? Surely they would have no use for a corpse."
"Oh, that's where you'd be wrong." Derflinger's voice lowered, turning into what sounded like a disgusted hiss, "No joke, partner: You're damn lucky I woke you up when I did. These 'scientists' in Gallia aren't a joke, let me tell you. All of em are obsessed with becoming immortal and they do a lot of things to intact corpses. Shit, they probably took your heart cause they wanna put an Earthstone in there, see if that makes you tick somehow. Don't be surprised if you find some sick shit wandering around here, it ain't exactly a royal party out there."
"I could have used your advice earlier...why did you say nothing when we reached the castle? And why did this...attach itself to me?" He raised his left hand in frustration, the chain clinking slightly in response.
"Hey, don't blame me for not being my usual charming self! You saw those walking corpses back in the castle. Whatever siren song that bitch was using it was riling up your extra passenger something fierce. Had to maintain the seals, make sure you didn't go insane like you nearly did back in Albion. And as for the chain...no fucking clue. Might be a side-effect or something, but I'll be honest you know more about your 'daddy' more than I do. I'm just the one cleaning up the mess."
"And that is why my wounds are not healing..." He grimaced. He had to admit it was humiliating being reminded just how much he'd grown to rely on the shard's presence, "Do you know where we are exactly? How much time has passed?"
"Until I woke you up I was stuck in a room with no windows, so not a clue. As for where we are I'm guessing one of those off-the-books mortuaries so those guys can grab corpses for whenever we want. Not sure where exactly, though."
"Questions, questions but never any answers." He scoffed. Why was he expecting any different? "Fine, we need to leave this place. If what you said about the experiments perpetrated here are true then I would rather avoid any possible confrontations if I can."
"Right, you gotta come get me then." He hummed, the sound reverberating at the back of his head, "I can see through your eyes a bit, but it's mostly blurry. Just look around the place and see if you can find a storeroom. The guys running this place take anything valuable and dump em in a pile so they can sell them for later."
"Understood..."
"Oh, and don't forget vampire girl! She's still kicking, but she'll need a bit of blood to make her wake up. Should be easy enough..." He paused, trailing off with mumbled words, "Uh...you are planning to get her, right? Don't tell me you plan to leave her here."
Honestly? Yes, he was sorely tempted to leave her. Not only had she tried to drain him of his blood - again, he noted bitterly - but she was the reason they were in this place right now. Dragging themselves out after the burns they'd suffered would have been difficult, but it was better than being dumped in this pile of corpses and waking up after Gwyn knew how long to find that most of his inner body had been carved out of him in preparation for some kind of crude attempt at gaining immortality.
"No, of course not...I will find her and come get you."
Still...he supposed he couldn't leave her to die. It wasn't as if he was a Saint himself...
He pushed open the door as silently as he could, trying to ignore his wounds and vulnerable state. His lack of decency was the least of his worries: Even now he could feel the blood seeping through the bandages, the smell of copper tinging the air. He could only hope that he didn't run into anyone while he was here. He didn't need another fight, not like this, and he didn't want to kill anyone who might be innocent.
Fortunately luck seemed to be on his side for once. The room in front of him was abandoned, the few torches lining the walls being the only source of light. It was also barren save a few stone tables...which had blood and what appeared to be misshapen organs lying atop them, "Like the house of that madman in Albion..." He muttered. If Gallia was where that depraved coward came from then it explained a lot of things.
"Yeesh, I think that some of those are yours." Derflinger chimed in.
"It matters not, I do not need them to keep 'living'." He shook his head and turned away from the distorted body parts, pushing open the door that led to a hall. He hadn't been in many mortuaries in his time, but he already had a rough approximate of what the layout would be like: Hallways leading to large rooms that would either be connected to smaller sub-rooms or just filled to the brim with more and more corpses.
Granted from what he knew would-be necromancers weren't what one would consider standard, but nothing ever was.
"Any idea where Daphne is interred?"
"Tch, all these places look the same." Derflinger snarked, "Just go to every room and start looking for corpses that look like her. Both you and her look like you've been through a damn oven so it shouldn't be too hard."
"Right..."
He pushed open the first door on his left and immediately grimaced at the smell that rushed out in full force, "The bodies in this one have already rotted..." He covered his nose and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and trying to ignore the incessant buzzing of flies swirling around the interior. It was a long shot, but she might have been here all the same. He doubted either of them looked very fresh by the time that night was over.
No such luck, however. Most of the corpses in the room already appeared heavy into their state of decay, or if not they had other deformities such as missing eyeballs or a swelling in their nether regions, "Must be where they dump the rejects..." Derflinger clicked, "Don't think she's here, partner. You're better of looking elsewhere."
"I suppose-"
Footsteps, coming from outside. Eyes narrowing, he debated briefly whether to hide or fight before deciding on the former, "Not worth it..." Wincing slightly, he rushed to one of the empty tables and lied atop it, pausing only to place the thick cloth over himself to mask his features and leaving his eyes barely uncovered. So long as he passed as a corpse hopefully they wouldn't notice his more...intact appearance.
Three figures walked into the dark room, though the head seemed immediately put off by the smell and covered his nostrils. He could see their features clearly: The one leading was an old man, his skin covered in deep wrinkles and his hair a thick gray. Older than most, but nothing worth mentioning altogether.
What caught his attention were the two lackeys. They were young, their physiques strong like one would expect from a soldier or hired mercenary. It would have been nothing noteworthy if not what what appeared to be veins of earth running past the right sides of their face down their tunics or the unnatural stiffness with which they moved. Their eyes continued to trail after their master, their expressions blank.
Those must have been what Derflinger meant by dabbling with immortality.
"Bah, there's nothing here. Let's look elsewhere."
He waited for the footsteps to fade before he threw the cloth off, "Would such a fate have awaited me if I never recovered?" He wondered aloud. First mad monarchs and now those attempting to push past the boundaries of mortality. Nothing he hadn't seen before - especially not when a certain dragon was concerned, but it was still worrying. When would people accept mortality for what it was? The goal of every Undead was simply to cure their unending existence. Immortality was no boon...
Pulling open the door, he rushed into the room across from him and waited, 'No footsteps...' He breathed a sigh of relief. He would fight his way out of here if he had to, but appearing as a reanimated corpse in front of those who coveted immortality? It was like a sheep being led to a den of wolves, "I hope we can find our way back without much difficulty. I do not wish to stay in this place any longer than we have to."
"You and me both, partner."
Thankfully another favor from luck seemed to reach him and he found Daphne's body within the room, "Her wounds are severe..." He pulled the blanket off and frowned at the numerous injuries lining her body. Burn woulds, more than a few deep cuts...she looked worse off than he did, "Are you sure she is still alive? She does not draw breath and these wounds should have healed by now..."
"Trust me, she is. When these bloodsuckers die they turn to ash, they don't stay along like most other people. She's just...well, sleeping ain't exactly what it is but it's close enough. Just feed her some blood and she should be set."
"...Can I not just feed her blood from one of the corpses?"
"Nah, if that was a thing you think pacifists like vamp girl here wouldn't try it? They need fresh blood; same reason why humans don't just dig up old dead animals and eat the rotting meat. You're gonna to take one for your other partner, partner."
'I am going to regret this...' Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a knife from one of the side tables and sliced it across his wrist; just above where the bandages stopped, "You better have retained your sanity..." He placed his arm over her parted mouth, letting the blood slip past her lips into her throat. He never understood just how much of the life fluid they required, but he could only hope it wasn't too severe. He didn't have much more to give.
Slowly but surely he saw her wounds heal, the burns making way for less damaged flesh and the cuts mending together crudely. Despite his own durability he found it impressive if nothing else. Her wounds healed almost as fast his and she didn't have to deal with another being trying to vie for control of their body.
It wasn't long before her eyes parted, her gaze unfocused, "Wh...What's going on?" She asked, her voice hoarse. Raziel backed away cautiously and raised the knife. He couldn't be too cautious, "R...Raziel, is that you?" She brought a hand to her forehead and stood, pushing the blanket off entirely and exposing more of her bare, still-healing flesh, "I...I remember we were fighting that woman and then-"
"You hungered for blood and attacked me." He muttered, a scowl etched on his features, "And now we're here in this forsaken place. Can you walk? Have your wounds healed?"
"Y-Yes..." She gulped and breathed raggedly, "My wounds haven't healed completely, but I should be strong enough to walk." She shook her head, her eyes widening slightly as she got a better look at him, "Um...why aren't you wearing-"
"We are in a mortuary, Daphne. My dignity was not their priority, and neither was yours." He gestured to her own ragged state, causing the Vampire to grimace, "Come, we can get Derflinger and then leave this place. I would rather forget this ever happened..."
"About time, by the way. Lost track of how boring it was staying in a dark room with no one to talk." Derflinger quipped.
"Yes, I am sure it was much more terrible than being burned with chaos fire and having your organs crudely taken from you." Raziel scoffed, "Just be sure to tell us when you have a hint of where you are. I do not fancy scouring this place from top to bottom."
"...Who are you talking to?" Daphne asked, looking at him worryingly. Huh...he'd forgotten only he could hear his partner.
"Derflinger...apparently he can project his voice, likely due to the seals and the runes." He shrugged. After six thousand years he supposed it only made sense to learn things no one else could do, "Just follow after me and stay close. I do not wish to get separated in this madhouse."
"Agreed..." She bit her bottom lip, her eyes downcast, "Raziel, wait. I...just wanted to apologize for what I did. I didn't mean-"
"I do not care to hear it." He muttered, cutting her off. He'd heard this spiel before, "Just keep yourself under control until we reach Tristain. If you lose your sanity again I am not going to revive you, so keep that in mind."
"I understand. I...I am sorry, however. I wish for you to know that."
They traversed the rest of the mortuary in utter silence, checking all the rooms with as much caution as both of them could muster. It was the same sight everywhere else: Corpses of varying states piled onto slabs, some of the more intact ones missing their internal organs or whatever else these people hoped to take. He could only hope those unlucky enough to be revived didn't retain their minds.
Eventually they found the storeroom, which was nothing more than what appeared to be a large, empty closet where anything of value seemed to have been placed in a messy pile, "Look at all these..." Daphne grabbed a gold necklace and raised it to the torchlight. The diamond on the center spoke clearly of its value, "They're stealing anything they can get their hands on and then desecrating the corpses to use them as thralls. It's..."
"Not something we can judge considering you drink blood and I consume Humanity." He muttered. He could already see Derflinger in the pile, his hilt beating rapidly in what he could only assume to be elation, "Get some clothes and hurry. We need to leave before anyone realizes that there are two less corpses in the pile."
They picked out what clothes they cold from the assorted stack, using whatever fit them, "Damn it...of course they would keep clothes only a noble would use..." Raziel grimaced as he put the trousers over his legs, the tighter material constricting annoyingly against the raw flesh. What was with nobles and their insistence in form-fitting attire? He grabbed a shirt and quickly started buttoning it, "Grab anything you need. I doubt we have to feel guilty for..."
He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of the purple cloth lying under a few extra shirts. Cattleya's handkerchief...it had survived the fires. Taking a deep breath, he picked it up and tied it against his wrist again. Parts of it were burnt and it smelt of smoke, but he found himself not caring. He promised Cattleya he would bring it back to her along with Louise and he saw no reason to break that promise.
"That's a favor..." Amethyst mumbled, staring at the cloth. "Did someone give that to you before we left?"
"Yes." He shook his head. He had to focus now, "Are you ready?" He looked her up and down. She was forced to don a messy formal dress, though she seemed to have enough sensibility to at least rip away the encumbering skirt for better movement.
"You go ahead, I'll follow and stay close."
Alright, so Daphne was with him and still sane (for now) and Derflinger was back in his possession; things were finally improving, however slight. Now they had to simply leave this place - wherever it may have been - and cross the border back to Tristain. Hopefully her Charm magic would be enough to let them pass and if not...then they would have to take more drastic measures. Anything if it meant seeing Louise and the others again.
If he'd been paying more attention, perhaps he would have seen the rune placed outside the doorway lighting up at their approach.
He only managed a few steps before he felt a jolt of electricity run through him, strong enough to make his flesh burn. From behind he could hear Daphne scream as well, but it was hard to make out over Derflinger's frantic yells for him to move, "Move, partner, move! If they catch you they'll-"
The pain was intense; he barely felt himself fall on his back, the smell of cooked flesh - his own - wafting up his nostrils, "Urgh..." His vision was hazy; dark spots at the edge of his sight, the sound of echoing footsteps reverberating through the stone. Three figures stood in front of them both, the leader of the trio kneeling down and cupping his face with surprising care and twisting it to and fro.
"Thrall...aware...intriguing..." He muttered, voice difficult to make out from the constant ringing in his ears, "Take...master...both...secrets...willing..."
His head suddenly felt his lighter, his vision fading. Two more figures appeared, seemingly materializing from nowhere to be join the attacker's side. He tried to focus, tried to make out their features despite the calming lull he felt and...
"Impossible..."
Rhea and Chester stood beside the old man, Chester's mask trapped in a demented grin as always while Rhea looked down in pity, "Well now, another predicament you found yourself in, old friend...and here I thought you would put this all behind you eventually...I suppose it was a mistake for me to hope." Chester tipped his hat, a chuckle escaping the mask's confines.
"Even now you're still thinking of that girl...latching onto her so desperately as an infant would to their mother. I can only pray you see the truth soon." Rhea said, her voice tinged with pity, "Perhaps he can help you, succeed where we failed..."
They both reached down for him, "No...!" He raised his hand feebly, trying to fight them off, but it was a futile effort. One of the distorted figures grabbed his wrist before bringing down their fist on his head, knocking him into unconsciousness.
Done. This chapter was shorter than most and was 66 percent wangst, but considering how large the previous chapter was and the seeming lack of attention I think this is better :) Next chapter will come when I can write, but now the questions I wanted to ask.
For those who managed to reach this far, I gotta ask: Generally speaking how sympathetic do you find Raziel? Maybe it's just because I've been on a superhero comic binge but reading through that and then reading through some of the earlier chapters I'm somewhat surprised at how kill-crazy and unhinged I wrote Raziel to be.
Granted it was intentional that he come across as a violent thug, but still I have to ask how sympathetic you guys found him considering taking a life seems to be his second if not first resort a lot of the time. That and, while he does it under moments of frustration like with Isabella smashing the Divine Blessing, he does say some disturbing things like wanting to slit her throat and watch her bleed out choking on blood.
This is even noted in the earlier segments since while Louise has a more nuanced view, Ciaran and Henrietta mostly remember him by his capacity for violence, brutality and psychosis. And to be fair, they aren't really wrong to focus on that given his actions and how unstable he's proven. So yeah, how do you perceive his character? Do you sympathize with him? Why or why not?
Likewise, how do you perceive his relationship with Louise: A genuine bond of friendship based on their shared experiences or just him deluding himself and attaching to her out of Stockholm syndrome? I generally get reviews that imply both and I did write it with the implication that it was meant to be at least partly unhealthy in mind, so I'm curious where most readers lean towards as of the current chapter.
So yeah, answer those two questions - Raziel and his relationship with Louise - if you can :) It's for the next chapter since it's one of those and I'm curious to see where the audience lies. Who knows, it might affect how the chapter's content ends :P
Mernom - Fine, underlines done.
SirSquirtle - I was going to put an explanation but it was cut due to POV limitations. Essentially Julio would have justified not doing so because he knows if he outs himself as a Void Familiar Bidashal would capture and mind rape him to becoming an empty shell. Since it was Agnes' POV, however, this was lost.
ObsessivelyObsessiveObession - Yeah, the first 6-8 chapters are definitely hit or miss for me sadly :( If you somehow managed to get this far then thanks, but if not then I understand leaving; those beginning segments were real stinkers.
Jordanlink7856 - Appreciate the compliments :) I do like the idea of both worlds bleeding through and you can tell by the way I write.