So...I wonder how many people are still reading this? Been a while since I wrote for this; currently still on my Spider-Man craze. Still, I hope that there are readers who remain. I've definitely been getting faves and follows despite my year long hiatus. Then again it'll be a miracle if people still remember what the plot is about...
Anyway, I might update the first 8 chapters to remove the references to game mechanics or remove some of Raziel's derpier moments. Sadly I can't write out the Guiche fight since they refer to it in later chapters, but overall it might be less...cringy, if that's the proper word. We'll see.
"People are staring..."
Daphne looked up from her seat across the table towards her companion. Sir Raziel continued to look down at his glass of Gallian red without so much as a twitch. For a second she almost thought she'd been hearing things before his eyes flicked up by the barest amounts, "You are drawing attention." He took a practiced sip from the glass and nudged his head subtly to the rest of the patrons at the inn.
Daphne frowned and burrowed deeper into her cloak, "I know..." She reached a tentative hand out for her own chalice of wine and took a careful sip. The dress she wore was uncomfortably ornate and the cloak did little to cover it. Still, it was the lesser evil - stopping in at the larger cities wouldn't have been a good idea and the common folk of Gallia tended not to question anyone that appeared to be a noble. Those who questioned tended to disappear not long afterwards.
Of course, not questioning wasn't the same as not staring; especially not when said 'noble' had Firstborn Charm magic.
"That magic of yours..." Sir Raziel muttered with a frown. Daphne pursed her lips and said nothing. They barely talked to one another in the days they spent traveling slowly back towards their home. She would've preferred it if they used her powers to make their way to Tristain quickly, but there was something wrong with him. His movements were sluggish and he frowned on the idea of being carried across the border.
So here they were, walking from town to town like a pair of travelers off to see the world, alternating between day and night dependent on when the patrols were most lax. Her Charm magic, and failing that their other capabilities, would work on a few isolated men, but she had no wish to test her luck against an entire platoon. Even if combat wasn't impossible it was best if they drew little attention to themselves.
Daphne took another sip of the wine and tried to ignore the lustful stares of some of the more base patrons. It was always difficult to stay in crowded areas. Most people had enough common decency and restraint to limit themselves to just gazing longingly, but inns and taverns were more often than not the exception. All the alcohol in those places loosened both tongues and restraints, which had proven both an advantage and a liability in the past.
Her companion finished off his wine and set the empty cup at his side. She smiled wryly and traced a finger along the side of the chalice. The wine might as well have been water to them both. They could both taste, both experience the so-called flavor many a human enjoyed, but it did nothing for them. To him food and drink was a luxury rather than a need, and for her...
The only sustenance she needed was the crimson that flowed through his veins.
Daphne shook her head to try and stave away the morbid thought. Years they'd spent subsisting only on the barest amounts of blood and now she sat across from someone that compelled every primal instinct in her to feed till there was nothing left. Shuddering, she set her cup of wine down and and set a single ecu coin down on the table. She needed to leave this crowded place; she felt like she was being choked.
"Shall we go to our room?" she asked softly.
Sir Raziel only gave the barest trace of a nod before he stood and led the way. Daphne clung tighter to the cloak and followed him up the stairs. She would've preferred it if they had separate quarters, but the entire inn was filled to bursting. From what she gathered they'd been 'asleep' far longer than they first intimated and that the new Queen of the country was already making changes. Changes that led to many traveling and taking their chances outside of Gallia's borders.
The room was sparse and held more than a little dust - certainly far below what an actual noble would take - but neither of them cared. Daphne sat on the leftmost bed and sighed, allowing herself to finally relax. In here she didn't have to contend with the looks, though she couldn't say that being alone in a room with just her current companion was pleasant. He'd made very clear his feelings for her.
Her gaze leveled upwards. Sir Raziel sat on the other bed, his head focused downward and his expression blank. In many ways he reminder her of her sister: calm, focused and, at times, cold. Her attention shifted to his hands. The chain wrapped around his left wrist drew some looks, though far less than it normally would have. What really drew her attention was the bloody handkerchief tied loosely around his right wrist. Even through all the blood and dust she recognized Cattleya's distinct perfume. She didn't miss the implications.
"...What are you looking at?" He met her gaze, eyes narrowed dangerously.
"That." Daphne gestured at the purple cloth. The way his gaze hardened almost made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut, but she continued despite her hesitation, "That's Cattleya's." She'd meant to ask it as a question, but it was difficult. Especially when she was so sure.
"What of it?" He scoffed.
"I'm not blind to the meaning of a Favor, Sir Raziel." She brought one knee up on the bed and hugged it tighter to herself, "I...worry for her, despite her being in better health than she was previously."
"Catt mentioned you and your sister were their Godmothers." He smiled at that, albeit wryly. It didn't give her much relief, "You think I will hurt her." It wasn't a question, not really.
"Not intentionally, no, but..." She bit her lower lip and considered her next words, "You're dangerous, as am I and Amethyst. There's a reason we limited our contact with Karin's family as the years passed. The lives we live...well, I don't have to explain." She pursed her lips, "Look at our circumstances now. Trapped in a country where we assassinated its king."
"It is not the first time I have been involved in regicide." She raised an eyebrow at that. She'd heard scattered tales of his time in that 'Lordran' place, but to hear him admit to kingslaying so casually was a surprise, "We did not provoke this...mad king. He targeted us and we retaliated. Now Louise and Tiffania are safe, and we will be rid of this nightmare as soon we return home."
"Hm..." Daphne looked up at the ceiling and frowned. The events at the manor days prior still haunted her. It wasn't the first time she'd seen horrific sights that would break all but the most dauntless individuals, but the feeling of helplessness was a rarity. Much as she despised violence her abilities made it easy for her to win confrontations...but that mattered little when it came to healing someone's fractured mind. All she could do was watch Sir Raziel kill those that were left. A mercy, he called it. It was hard to disagree.
"...There is more than worry that motivates you," he said.
"I suppose." Daphne sighed and straightened her posture, "Cattleya...she was set to marry the former Viscount Wardes when she was fourteen years of age. It was shortly after that when her sickness worsened." She still remembered the day the engagement was officially dissolved. Cattleya was less disappointed that the thought of losing the former viscount and more on what it meant for her.
To live without a future outside of being confined to her room for treatments, all because of a twist of birth.
"Cattleya, she...having her life taken from underneath her, it changed her. She took to her pets because they gave her a glimpse of the outside world, of the affection she craved and was denied for a decade. She was desperate." Daphne let out a soft breath and met his gaze fully, "She told me she loved me." A dangerous confession considering the society they lived in. Shame to the family would've been the least of her worries.
"She mentioned a first love that was unrequited...I did not imagine it was you." To his credit he didn't appear shocked at all by the admission, "She stated she cared for someone else even while she was engaged to Wardes. Are you certain she confessed love to you purely out of desperation?"
"Perhaps not, but it wasn't meant to be any more than my feelings for Karin were." She smiled bitterly, "I just want you to promise you won't hurt her. "She deserves a happy life after everything she's been through."
They stayed together in silence for a few minutes before he eventually stood and grabbed the knife at a nearby table, "It is past midnight." He removed the handkerchief and, without a hint of hesitation, brought the edge of the blade through his skin. Daphne winced and tried to suppress the burst of primal hunger that came at the sight of the fresh blood.
"Sir Raziel-"
"Hurry."
Swallowing nervously, she stood and made her way towards him. They - or rather he - came to a a plan: every two days after midnight he would shed blood to allow her to feed. She tried to refuse at first, claimed that she could go at least a week before needing to sustain herself on life fluids, but he'd been insistent. I do not wish to risk you going mad again, were his exact words.
The lust was the first thing she noticed. For many Vampires the consumption of blood was both a pleasure and a need. The crimson fluid was intoxicating and addictive, akin to the finest wine. For decades she and her sister had subsisted on the barest traces of blood; just enough to keep themselves from starving. And yet now here she was, consuming blood delectable enough to almost drive her to insanity.
It was almost impossible to resist the temptation to keep going.
Eventually she felt a hit on her shoulder and she backed away, leaving a brief bridge of saliva connecting between her mouth and his right wrist. Sir Raziel looked down at the already-healing cut with distaste and wiped away the remaining blood and spittle with a dry cloth, "Let us hope your hunger pangs do not trouble us again." He wrapped the handkerchief around his arm again.
They decided to sleep afterwards. Neither of them needed rest to function, but it was better than trying to start conversation. Daphne tossed and turned in her bed, trying to drown out the noises she heard down below. Another reason she disliked staying at inns: the noises were unbearable at the worst of times. At least the castle had thick walls to block it all out.
Sleep came to her after an hour, but it was painfully brief. She'd barely managed to finally relax before she heard a crash downstairs, followed by struggling, "Please, not my son!" the innkeeper yelled. Daphne sat up on the bed and frowned. The sound of struggles down below worsened, loud enough that she couldn't ignore it even if she wished to.
Something her companion noticed as well given the way he suddenly sat up, "Something is happening..." Before she could say anything else the chain on his left arm corroded black and he growled, "The people in the village are afraid." He stood and looked out the window, "Torches and horses, at least a dozen of them. Not bandits; they are too well-equipped. Soldiers."
"Soldiers?" What could soldiers be doing in a village of no consequence? Daphne stood and joined him at the window. Through the darkness she saw two armed and armored men dragging out whole bags of wheat and livestock, uncaring of the protests that came from the villagers, "They're taking these people's possessions." Not bandits, but they were certainly acting as such.
"Hmm...it is is none of our concern." Sir Raziel turned away and clenched his hand, the chain turning back to a dull gray, "We keep our heads down and leave when the soldiers pass. We cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves."
"I..." She wasn't able to say much more before another scream resounded from below. Her gaze shifted to the door and she clenched her hand into tight fists, "Can you truly ignore this? These people are being victimized."
"As are thousands of others we do not see." He scoffed, "We just killed a king and helped destabilize this nation, Daphne. We are not heroes."
'Not heroes...' She sucked in a deep breath and winced at another scream from below. Amethyst always lectured her on overreaching. We do what we must to survive, sister. No more, no less, she'd said. And yes, for those first few decades it was purely about survival, but after Karin rescued them for no reason besides kindness she couldn't go back to that. It would've been far easier for Karin to kill her then and there.
"I have to do something." Her companion glared, but she ignored him. Swallowing down any nervousness, she pushed the door open and strode downstairs confidently. The patrons were gone now and in their place were the innkeeper, his son and two men armed with swords and flintlocks. The old innkeeper was on the ground while his son stood in front of him protectively.
"Eh now, lad, you know how it is." One of the guards said, portly shoulders raising in a lax shrug, "You come with us and we leave your old man be."
"My father's health is failing him! Take me and he won't last the week!" The young man shot back.
Daphne took that as her cue to interrupt, "What's going on here?" she said, raising her voice so they could all hear her. Both of the soldiers immediately turned to face her, their faces going from cocky to apprehensive as soon as they caught sight of her attire. For all the world she looked like a noble they'd disturbed, "I'm trying to get some well-deserved rest and yet you create such noise that you wake the dead."
"Ah...apologies, milady." Another soldier, younger than the first one who spoke, bowed, "But we're here under orders of the queen. Any able bodied man capable of holding a sword is to work for the army." Which meant their possessions were also 'donations to the cause'. She'd seen it before, back during the war with Albion, but not to this severity.
"P-Please, don't take my son," the old man pleaded. Daphne's gaze shifted to him and she couldn't stop her expression of pity that came. Old age wasn't something their kind ever had to worry about, but she'd seen the effects enough times to know that his son wasn't lying.
"Shut it, old man." The portly one sneered.
"Enough." Violence wouldn't avail her here, even if she wished to do them harm. Daphne strode up to them confidently and traced a finger through the older soldier's arm, a coy smile on her face, "Come now, must you truly do this now? Surely the queen won't mind one young man not picking up a sword." The portly man's face flushed. The Charm magic was nearly impossible to resist, "Surely it wouldn't be too much to ask to release this one?"
"Milady, that is-"
She turned to the interrupting soldier and gave him a low, pleading stare, "Please? As a personal favor to me?" It used to sicken and embarrass her, playing the part of the seductress to warp human minds, but now it was almost second nature. It was better than using violence to get what she wanted - or at least that was what she told herself. Agnes once remarked that at least violence was honest.
"Um, well..." The younger soldier's grip on his sword weakened and he swallowed nervously. His lust was bare for all to see, "I...I suppose we could let this one go, so long as they pay an equal tribute."
"Oh, I'll take care of that." She pulled out a small pouch of coins from the folds of her dress and pressed it into the older soldier's palm, "I won't forget this, both of you. I hope I'll see you both in the capital?" She made sure to add just the right amount of prodding in her tone.
"O-Of course, milady!" The older soldier bowed again, "Um, my name is Louis and the younger lad over there is Victor."
"I'll keep that in mind." She smiled sweetly. Daphne waited till they were out of the inn before she let the smile drop, "Are you two alright?" She looked down at the innkeeper and his son worriedly. There was no need to play coy with them: gratitude would keep them from questioning, "Did they hurt either of you?" Healing magics weren't her forte, but she could do something if need be.
"J-Just a scratch, milady." The young man said. He helped his father up to the nearby table and let out a slow breath, "I...thank you for coming to our aid. We can never repay you."
"I-Indeed," his father said, "You saved us."
"The both of you, at least." Daphne's head snapped back and she saw Raziel looking out the corner window. She hadn't even heard him come down, "The rest of the villagers are not faring so well, 'milady'." She didn't miss the mocking lilt in his voice, "Do you plan to charm every soldier to making an exception?"
"I..." She looked back at the innkeeper and his son and clenched her hands into shaky fists. They could get away with two soldiers ignoring one young man, but an entire village escaping the taxation? That would draw far too much attention, and she wouldn't be here to protect them when the soldiers returned.
"It's all those damned assassins' fault!" the young man said, saving her from having to answer, "Ever since the mad king's daughter took over it's been like this!"
"Calm down, my boy. Don't let the soldiers outside hear you," his father said.
"But it's the truth!" he hissed, "Lord Joseph might've been called mad, but at least he wasn't a tyrant! He left us alone!" He sucked in a deep, frustrated breath, "But now his daughter is doing this every day. No wonder people are leaving."
"Doing what?" Daphne asked.
"Is it not obvious?" Raziel sat at one of the nearby tables and crossed his arms, "It is what Tristain's queen did during the war with Albion. Gathering soldiers and resources for an army. She is preparing for conflict."
"I've seen it before, but this doesn't follow. Queen Isabella's not preparing for war."
"That we know of," Sir Raziel muttered, "Either way it is none of our concern. The soldiers will leave in a few hours time and we should as well." He turned to the young man, "I would suggest you and your father leave this place. Even if milady has convinced those two you cannot ignore the possibility that more will return. Tyrants never need an excuse to use their power."
"R-Right..." The young man looked down at the table with a glare, "Thank you, again. We can't pay you back, but please take any food and drink you wish from the pantry. It's the least we can do."
The two of them left for their own quarters. Daphne waited till they were out of hearing distance before she sat across her companion, hands covering her face. The gratitude in their eyes...she couldn't accept it. She didn't regret playing a role in the mad king's death, seeing the effects of regicide first-hand was another thing entirely. A madman's death led to something worse.
"We should-"
"No." She met his eyes and nearly recoiled at the glare he gave her, "You put us at risk enough when you lost control in the castle and your desire to play the hero. We are close to returning home; I will not risk it for whatever crusade you wish to undertake due to misplaced guilt."
"Is it truly so misplaced?" she asked back in a harsh whisper, "The king's death allowed for his daughter to take power and now she's gathering soldiers and resources. How are we to be certain that she is not preparing for conflict with Tristain?"
"You are reaching, Vampire." He scoffed.
"Perhaps, but paranoia has kept both of us alive so far." His eyes narrowed into a glare. She didn't let it deter her, "Think about it. Albion has no value and neither does Romalia, which leaves Tristain or Germania for conquest. In a war of attrition Germania would be victorious, so Tristain is the easiest target."
"A country that has spent most of its money on a war less than a year prior. Truly a valuable target of conquest." He rolled his eyes, "Do what you wish, but I have no plans on staying in this gods forsaken country any more than I need to."
He stood and made for the stairs. Daphne took a deep breath and spoke before she could stop herself, "What about Louise?" He stopped on the stairs and refused to face her, "The void magic is inherited by family in the event of death, Sir Julio told us this. How can you be certain that this Queen Isabella hasn't inherited her father's magic and his mad plan? Could you really return to her knowing that Louise might still be at risk?"
His grip on the stairwell tightened and his next words came in a strained whisper, "...Then what do you suggest? Another act of regicide?"
"We gather information, at least enough to ensure that whatever plans she has it doesn't put the people we love in danger. If and when we find this information we will return home. Agreed?"
"...I am going to regret this." He let out a soft growl, "Agreed..."
This was frustrating.
Ciaran pored over the old book as quickly as she could, a frown adorning her face. With the threat to Princess Tiffania's immediate well-being halted she could focus on the long-term problem, "The recurrence..." She snapped the book shut and let out a frustrated breath. She had no wish to believe it, but the evidence was mounting. First Manus' vessel then the reincarnations of the royal family and now even Lady Quelara had returned. Something was taking them all to this Gods forsaken land.
The only connection she could determine were those damned portals. It didn't matter who they were - Gods, immortals, mortals, monsters...those gateways took them all. From what she'd gathered it was an expected practice among the Mage population in these lands to summon creatures to enslave, but it was only ever animals. To summon a human required this so-called holy Void magic.
Which led her here.
"Blood and damnation..." She set the book aside and reached for the next. She'd spent days of what little free time she had searching through the history books for any mention of these Void mages, but the results so far were lacking. Whatever would-be historians this land contained they needed a lesson in keeping note of significant events. It was difficult, if not impossible, to tell what was a true mage of the Void and what was another charlatan claiming connection to this land's idea of divinity for their own selfish whims.
It was far simpler back home. The royal historians always ensured that events were recorded so that mistakes could not be repeated. Clear, unbiased and informative - the humans could've learned from them in that regard. Instead she had to pore through dozens of their damned 'history books' to try and piece together a connection and discern truth from the pretenders.
"There must be a connection." Any hint of Lordran in this land's history. People, places...anything. Lady Elizabeth's words indicated that the end of this recurrence would arrive within their lifetime, and while she hadn't lived through the end of her home like Lady Quelara, she had no desire to see it come to pass here. Not while Princess Tiffania and Lady Quelara and possible others remained.
She'd finished her third book by the time she heard footsteps coming towards her. Closing the dusty tome, she looked up at the new arrival and nodded when she saw Lady Quelara making her way towards her. The Daughter of Chaos had taken to the academy with far more ease than herself, though Ciaran supposed that could only be expected considering her previous circumstances. Even the inanity of this school was better than being trapped in a dungeon.
"Good afternoon, Sir Ciaran." She sat across from her, a faint smile on her face, "Still taking up the role of the scholar?"
"Yes, my lady." Ciaran let out a soft breath and set the book aside. Still no luck, "It is difficult to discern between truth and falsehood among the texts. Some of the tomes contradict one another as well."
"That's to be expected, I suppose. History has a way being muddled, especially when one's life is so limited." There was something wistful in her expression, "Mayhaps you will have better luck talking with these 'Void mages'? I'd heard Princess Dusk's daughter was one of them, as is Louise."
"Only because they spread the taint to her." Ciaran pressed her lips into a thin line, "But I've no wish to bother her. For the first time in a long while she no longer has to worry of dangers to her life." Provided the enchantment that disguised her didn't falter, at least, "And the Valliere daughter is in mourning for Manus' vessel. I doubt I will find out anything questioning her."
"Manus' vessel, hm...?" Lady Quelara tapped her fingers on the table in seeming contemplation, "It's funny. I was raised to believe in so many things, all of which I now doubt. I saw the flaws of my mother's stubbornness, experienced firsthand my sister giving her very soul to a madman. I was told that Manus and Humanity would spell our doom, but in the end it was a human - Louise - and Manus' so-called vessel that rescued me from my sister's clutches."
"It is strange times we live in, my lady, but not all the old beliefs are to be discarded," Ciaran said. It was a struggle for those first few years to not relinquish her faith. Years of service as a knight and now she was nothing more than a remnant of a bygone age.
"Perhaps not." The faint smile returned, "Well, I shall leave you to your studies. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you require aid. I shall be working together with Professor Colbert in his lab."
"...Is it truly a good idea to work together so closely with that human?" Among the staff that ran this academy he was one of the more tolerable ones. Still, she didn't let her guard down around him.
"Why wouldn't it be? It's not as if I share any more special feelings for my family." Her next laugh was bitter and unsuited to her graceful features, "As you said, it is strange times we live in. From what I gathered you worked together with Manus' vessel."
"For a mutual goal, my lady. We are neither friends nor allies." The very idea of it was preposterous. The true Lord Gwyn would've been ashamed if he realized the agreement they both shared.
"If you claim it so, Sir Ciaran."
The Lordsblade frowned at the Witch's retreating form. What she did she mean by that? Shaking her head, she grabbed the next of the books on the pile and continued to read. Idle hands were the abyss' tools, and she'd spent long enough languishing in mundane routine to not wish to go back to it.
Her search proved futile, as it had in the previous days. Sighing, Ciaran closed the final book and returned them back to their places. At the rate this was going she would have to leave the academy in search of further materials; and while she would relish in leaving that perverse old human's company she had no desire to leave Princess Tiffania here or drag her all about the country for the sake of research.
'Perhaps Lady Quelara's suggestion will bear fruit.' She stood and made her way to the third Valliere child's quarters. In the weeks that had passed she remained closed off, only leaving her room to attend her classes or talk with that sister of hers. It still confused her how the child could be so attached to the festering pile of flesh. It was akin to to finding attachment to rotting food.
Ciaran didn't bother knocking; the girl rarely answered nowadays. The rosy haired noble remained in her bed facing away from her. It was clear by the crumpled uniform that she'd just finished attending classes, "One would think your grief would have lessened by now." The girl didn't so much as twitch, "Staring longingly out the window will not make Manus return faster, child."
"Go away."
Ciaran scraped a chair across the floor loudly and set it across the bedm "I need information." She sat down and crossed one leg over the other, "You are one of the Void Mages in this land, and it is to my understanding that you have awakened to your power longer than the others."
"...So what?" She finally sat up to face her. The first thing Ciaran noticed were the dark circles under her eyes, which was quickly followed by the ugly scowl on her lips, "So far it's brought me nothing but trouble. Raziel and Daphne are either dead or they're trapped in Gallia and it's all my fault."
"I am not here to listen to your grievances." Ciaran scoffed, "I require questions answered. It is to my understanding that many of the events that plague us come as a result of this rare magic."
"What makes you think I can tell you anything?"
"Call it a guess." Ciaran's eyes narrowed. Human children were needlessly difficult, "From what I gathered you were pivotal to certain events in the past year, and if nothing else you kept Manus leashed."
"He wasn't my-"
"A Familiar is a slave, child. Delude yourself if you wish, but it is what it is." She never understood the human need for justification. Admittance would have at least had a sense of honor to it, "But I did not come here to discuss semantics. According to the queen you follow your magics were instrumental in saving that village and during the war effort that came afterwards."
"So what?" she asked again.
"I have my doubts that this magic came to you naturally. In my experience spells are taught and learned, not ingrained. It is the same in this land, meaning someone must have taught you these spells. A teacher or mentor."
"You think any of the professors here taught me?" She laughed, soft and bitter, "None of them know about my abilities. For them I'm still the Zero, the failure..." Ciaran resisted the urge to scoff once more. She truly had no wish to listen to the child's grievances, "I don't even understand how most of it works. All I knew was that I wanted to help the princess with the war."
"Enough." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, "Who or what taught you your magics? Answer the question."
The child didn't verbally respond. Instead she stood and rummaged through her bedside cabinet, "Here..." She set a small book down on the mattress without a care, "The Founder's Prayer book...I haven't opened it since we returned."
"Hm..." Ciaran grabbed it carefully and pursed her lips. Even at just a touch she could feel the magics emanating from within. When she opened to the first few pages her eyes narrowed at the sight of the blank pages, "...No words."
"It comes and goes." The child crossed her legs and propped her head up with one hand, "The book...it gives me spells that I need. An explosion to destroy a fleet, an illusion to distract an entire army...whichever's needed at the time." She let out an exhausted breath, "I can't control what it tells me. Derflinger might have a better idea, but he was left behind in Gallia with Raziel and my sister when we ran away."
"The sentient blade never gave any indication of wisdom." Ciaran closed the book with a snap and handed it back to her, "The book is sentient, child. Be wary." It had a soul, the same way many relics of ages past were fueled by the life of others. A sickening, if necessary, practice, "Inform me if it deigns to speak to you once more. Perhaps I can make queries of my own."
"...Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.
"Your unexplained magics may be the key to understanding this mad recurrence, whether you know it or not." She held no love for this land, but she was here now and if she wished to survive then she had to understand its machinations, "Follow the instructions I gave you and remember to treat the words of the book with reservations. It is an individual, not a toy."
"Brimir above..." She looked down at the book and licked her lips nervously, "...Can I ask you another question?"
"I suppose." She didn't see the harm in it.
"You told me before that Raziel was alive, and that if he wasn't we'd...we'd all be dead. You knew this from experience."
"Your point?"
"I..." She took a deep breath, "You tried to kill him before, back at the forest in Albion." She didn't bother to nod. The child already knew it as truth, "Why...? He never did anything to you."
"Nothing? He took my beloved from me twice over, child. First as that mad ape Manus and after when he pretended to be the so-called Chosen Undead." It wasn't enough that he broke Artorias into that ravaged shell; he also had to kill what remained after he spent so much time in agony, "You are naive if you do not think he poses a danger. Surely you have seen him lose control of himself. That massacre at Albion is only the prelude if he ever truly loses himself."
"He's stronger than you think." She glared up at her defiantly, "He's lost control before but he'll always comes back to me. He won't lose himself like you think he will."
"Believe what you will, child. I've seen the consequences of Manus' madness to not place faith in blind hope."
Ciaran left before the child could utter another inane argument. Sighing, the Lordsblade closed the door behind her and frowned. The humans of this place were naive, too easy to let their feelings cloud their judgments. They hadn't lived through the loss of everything they held dear and yet they presumed to hold knowledge. It was infuriating, if expected.
She shook her head and made her way down the steps. She had more things to worry about than a naive child.
"There's more stalls over there!"
"Hey, wait up!" Karin chased after her companion with a yelp, torn between groaning in annoyance and smiling at the absurdity of it. Weeks she'd spent here in Germania, working with Estelle and that mercenary Solas to earn enough money to survive. She thought it would be for only a few days, a week at most, but apparently mercenary work wasn't as lucrative when you didn't have a good reputation; and Solas' name only carried two 'unbloodied' adolescents so far.
It'd been over a month, and at this point she was certain that if the others were aware of her being missing they would've long since given up on her. Thankfully she managed to send a letter to one of the caravans explaining her situation, though whether they received it she had no inkling.
They'd finally saved up enough money between the both of them and they were supposed to leave within the day...until Solas informed them that there was going be a bazaar. Personally Karin didn't see the appeal, but for Estelle it might as well have been if Brimir came down from on high to grace them with His presence. So she'd begged and pleaded to postpone their travel until she could look at their wares.
Which left her here, babysitting a girl who couldn't have been that much younger than herself while she ran around the bazaar like a child.
"Estelle, would you calm down!" Karin barely made it to the stall before Estelle zipped away again, this time to a stall selling baked sweets. She would've been lying if she said the smell wasn't extremely tempting, "Hey, hold it!" She grabbed the other girl by the shoulders before she could leave again, "You know we can't buy too much stuff, right? We saved up our money money for a reason!"
"B-But..." Even through the mask covering her face the puppy dog eyes were clear as day. Karina looked away with a wince. Centurion always told her she was too soft on crying girls (which, considering her own gender, she really didn't want to think about), "I...sorry. It's just that I've never been to something like this before. Back home we were always traveling and people never gathered together like this." She looked down and kicked at the ground glumly, "...You're right, we should go."
...Damn it, now she felt guilty. Karina let out a long, exhaused breath and crossed her arms. Why was she suddenly the bad guy? "...Fine, I suppose we can stay for a bit." Estelle looked up at her with wide eyes, "Within limits! You can't just buy everything up in the stalls that catches your eye!" How did she get roped into this? Damned masked nobleman, "We'll leave tomorrow."
"I...thank you, Karin." She had to bite back the urge to smile like an idiot at that, professionalism be damned, "Though, Solas did offer to pay for our purchases..."
"He's only doing it to get into your pants, 'princess'." Karin rolled her eyes. She was grateful to him without a doubt, but the guy was an intolerable libertine, "Look, just have fun, alright? I'll tell you if we exceed our budget." She put a palm again her forehead and clicked her tongue. A few months ago she wouldn't have even considered humoring her. Then again a few months ago she would've killed Daphne for just being a Vampire, so a lot of things changed.
She had to admit, going around the bazaar was more fun than she expected. Granted she would've preferred to do so in Tristain - especially since Estelle had to translate everything for her - but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Even though Estelle kept her hood over her head like her life depended on it she could tell her companion was having fun, which was a pleasant surprise considering how quiet she'd been the past few weeks.
The sun was fading over the horizon by the time they finished. Karin watched her partner's back as she walked on ahead cheerfully, humming a tune to herself that Karin didn't recognize. They'd go their separate ways once they reached Tristain, so it wouldn't kill her to do something nice, "Have fun?" she asked, moving to walk besides her. The hood still covered most of her features, which made the scars along her jawline stick out that much more.
"Mhm." Estelle smiled back as she finished the last of her lemon pastry, "This was...unexpected. I never thought I'd ever get to do something like this. I only ever heard stories of gatherings as big as this."
"Really? Huh, where did you live?" It didn't sound like any place she'd been to. Maybe it was in the uncharted lands past Rub' al kali?
"I...it's hard to describe." She moved her lips uncomfortably and covered herself with the scarf once more, "Those creatures that attacked us our first night at camp? They were an everyday occurrence. We always had to move to avoid being ambushed. Too many people at once and the creatures would have nothing but an easy target. Sometimes even sleeping on solid ground was impossible."
"Then where the hel did you sleep?"
"Trees." She pointed up, "I tied a rope to my waist so I didn't break my neck if I fell...I woke up dangling more times than I care to count. One reason I don't eat so much: after vomiting the previous night's breakfast at least half a dozen times I lost taste for it."
"Well, you're on solid ground now," Karin grinned and punched her shoulder lightly. She couldn't even imagine being so scared that even the earth wasn't a safe haven, "So when we get to Tristain you plan to meet this Vent guy, yeah?" The name sounded Gallian, though she could've been mistaken.
"Yeah..." She looked down and kicked at the dirt again, "I...don't actually know if he'll be there. All I know is that was where we were heading before I woke up in that clearing, but given everything that's happened I wouldn't be surprised if we never see each other again."
"Try not to think of the worst case scenario. Never does anyone any good," Karin said, "But if you really can't find him then...just come look for me. Sir Karin Desiree de Maillart, they should have my name in the Knights' office. I'll help you get back on your feet."
"You'd...do that for me?"
"Why not? I'd be stuck in this Gods forsaken mudhole if not for you. I think it's only fair."
She was almost knocked off her feet at the sudden embrace the other girl gave her, "W-Woah!" She stumbled back at the force of the hug and barely managed to keep herself balanced, "H-Hey, what's with you?" she screamed.
"I...sorry." Estelle stepped back and looked away, flecks of red scattered across what little skin she exposed, "I just didn't expect that...apologies." She bowed.
"Brimir, your home sounds worse the more I hear about it." Karin scratched her head and sighed. Why was she always the one who ended up feeling guilty? "Look, don't make a big deal about it, alright? It seems like I have a knack for making friends under the weirdest circumstances."
"Friends...haha."
"...I just said don't make this weird!"
"Sorry, sorry!"
They still had some money left over so Estelle decided it'd be fun to go to a fortune teller. Personally Karin never believed in the idea of being able to see the future - especially not when Allfather Brimir had a plan for them all - but she understood it was a popular pastime, particularly in young men and village maidens that craved some form of certainty in their love lives.
The tent they entered was far more lavish than she expected. Karin eyed the red silk and numerous gold and silver trinkets draped around the small area. There was no way any kind of fortune teller could afford all this just by reading some cards. She pursed her lips and kept a tight hold on her purse. The last thing she needed was to have their hard earned money stolen.
The fortuneteller herself was as unexpected as her abode. When one thought of a fortuneteller the first image that came to mind was an old woman draped in a thick shawl and cheap jewelry, likely in an attempt to emulate the travelers from the east. Instead the woman that greeted them held a striking beauty that would've put many noble ladies to shame, which the thick hood did little to hide. Karin blinked and shook her head to keep focus.
"Curious about the future or yourselves?" she asked, her long, blonde hair shifting slightly as she looked up at them. There was an almost echoing lilt to her voice.
"The future." Estelle set a couple of silver coins down on the table and sat at the seat eagerly, "I can only hope that we receive better tidings."
"Perhaps, child." She picked up a stack of cards and began to shuffle them. Karin crossed her arms and looked away with a scoff. If it made Estelle happy she wouldn't say anything, but she never understood how people could find comfort in such things. If you wanted something then you worked for it, damn what everyone else said. Her sister claimed she would never amount to anything and yet here she was, a chevalier knight of Tristain who'd exposed a traitor with friends who were willing to die for her (and she them).
Estelle watched the cards with bated breath, "So...what do those mean?" she gestured to the three cards she'd flipped into the table.
"...Conflict in the future, young one. The coming days will be filled with strife." Karin rolled her eyes. This was the dumbest... "But a chance. A hope for a future not shrouded in darkness. Sacrifices to be made."
"Sacrifices?"
"What victory can there be without a sacrifice?" she asked back. Karin rolled her eyes again; she was just feeding Estelle practiced lines, "Still, is the prospect of hope not worth it despite the possible pain? You should know this better than anyone, child of two worlds."
Estelle's breath hitched and she stood, knocking the chair off its place. Before Karina could ask what was wrong she suddenly ran out of the tent, "...I knew this was a bad idea." She threw the fortune teller a withering stare and chased after her partner.
The other girl didn't get far. Karin found her leaning against the wall of a nearby building, her breaths coming out in short pants, "How did she...?" she mumbled to herself.
"Whatever she said, don't let it bother you. Fortune telling is a scam, always has been." Karina said.
"...How are you so sure? We live in a world of magic, Karin."
"Yes, but there are some things even magic can't do. Seeing the future, bringing back the dead, destroying free will. Even magic has limitations." She squeezed the girl's shaking shoulder, "...Let's just go back, alright? We gotta get up early tomorrow if we want to make good time." They had to pass through lands owned by the Valliere family if they hoped to reach Tristain. It wasn't a family she was familiar with, though in comparison to everything else she could ignore it.
The night passed before they both realized it and soon enough they'd said their goodbyes to Solas, who once again offered them permanent places as mercenaries...along with another attempt at a 'rendezvous'. She had to give it to the man, he was damn persistent.
Thankfully they'd thought ahead enough to plot out a path. With Estelle translating and their horses being well-bred they made good time. Soon enough they passed the border into the Valliere lands, which was a definite relief. Leaving the Germanian barbarians behind couldn't have come too soon, "We're finally back..." Karin breathed a sigh tugged her cloak tighter against herself to ward off the cold. Next to her Estelle laughed and slowed her horse down, "Just a couple of days to the capital."
"Back to your home..." Estelle muttered. She was probably tired; the sun was long gone.
She was about to respond before she heard it, "Someone, please help us!" A young man screamed. Karin's head snapped at the direction of the yell, and a quick Farsight spell later, she saw what made them scream.
"Bandits..." She scowled. Parasites, all of them. She would've thought that the nobles who owned the land would take better care of their subjects, though perhaps being so close to the border made them lax. She turned back to Estelle "I have to do something. Wait here-"
"I'm coming with you!" she interrupted, bow already drawn.
Karin didn't bother to argue. She spurred her horse towards the screams and began casting the spells. She saw half a dozen bandits at least, all of them armed with swords, maces and flintlocks. As soon as she saw the clustered group she released the spell, making sure to keep the young man and his two female companions out of the radius.
The first two fell with loud screams. The four other bandits barely managed to look in their direction before Estelle shot an arrow into one of their thighs, forcing the brigand down into the dirt from the pain, "Run, now!" She jumped from her horse and created a shockwave of concussive air aimed at the two closest bandits. They flipped through the air for a brief moment before crashing against the trees with a loud crack.
The last bandit raised his pistol and aimed it right at her. She never got the chance to use her speed cantrip before an arrow lodged itself through the gun holding onto the flintlock, "Ah, you son of a-" his curse was cut off by another arrow lodging itself through his stomach. Karin cracked a small smile and gave Estelle a grateful nod before she smacked the handle of her weapon against the bandit's head. Knocking him out was a mercy.
"...That was reckless, Karin." Estelle said as soon as she was off her horse.
"Hardly." She scoffed, "I've killed giant scorpions and we fought a Minotaur; some bandits are hardly worth worrying over." Thankfully their would-be victims took the chance to run. Hopefully the landowners took better care of them next time.
"Still, you should-"
Karin was suddenly knocked off her feet. Her back barely made impact with the ground before a painful, choking grip covered her neck, "Let go of her!" Through blurry eyes she saw Estelle draw an arrow back until the earth suddenly shook and she flew through the air with a loud crash. Karin tried to reach for her hand, the spell already at the tip of her tongue, until she was suddenly dragged through the dirt painfully and pinned against a nearby tree.
"Who are you?" A familiar voice hissed. Karin coughed and tried to kick against her assailant, but it did nothing, "Are you responsible for these bandit attacks? Answer me!"
Karin finally managed to look down and gasped when she saw the crimson irises and pale skin, "A...Amethyst...?" She choked out. The Vampire's eyes narrowed, her mouth baring to show off her fangs. Karin forced her right hand to move and threw off the hood covering her head, "Amethyst...it's me...!" She smacked her wrist desperately, "It's...Karin...!"
The Vampire's eyes widened and her grip loosened enough that Karin's feet finally met the ground, "...What? No, that's-"
She was cut off by an arrow shooting through her shoulder, "Let her go!" Karin looked past the confused Vampire and found Estelle kneeling on the ground, her grip on the bow shaky. Her nose was bleeding, "Next one...goes through your head...!"
"W-Wait, Estelle, it's misunderstanding!" Karin yelled, her voice coming out rough and soft despite her best efforts, "This is...Amethyst is my friend..."
"She attacked you!"
"Yeah, but-"
"What in Spirits' name is going on?!" Amethyst interrupted. Without much fanfare she grabbed the arrow and yanked it out of her shoulder. Not even a whimper came, "Karin, how...this is impossible! But..." She scrutinized her slowly, "You're not lying, not a golem of some kind and I can't sense any Firstborn magic from you."
"Of course not!" Karin snapped, "I've been away for a while, but I didn't think you forgot about me!" She rubbed her sore throat and winced, "I was taken to Germania and I met Estelle. It took us a month to gather enough funds to make our way back. When we got here some bandits were robbing some innocent people so the both of us intervened. That's all."
"Karin...this isn't possible."
"You keep saying that..." She made her way to Estelle and gently nudged the bow down. All things considered she preferred being choked due to a misunderstanding compared to being licked for the sake of feeding, "What's so impossible about it? I mean I'll admit I don't get how I got taken to Germania so fast or how Albion and Tristain got into war while I wasn't looking, but I just need to go back and talk to Centurion and the others. They'll clear it up."
"Karin..." She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, "...I can't explain here; you wouldn't believe me. So just...you and your friend, come with me. They can explain it better, I hope. "
"Where are we going?" And why did she have a bad feeling?
"We're...meeting Karin and Centurion."
That's done. It's somewhat shorter than my usual updates, but I've gotten more comfortable with 7-10k updates. Still, at least the plot's moving along: Raziel and Daphne are spying in Gallia, Ciaran is researching the Void mages, and of course Karin and Estelle finally made contact with the present day people. We'll see where it goes.
Apologies for anyone who was expecting more. It's been difficult getting back into Twisted Reflections after a year away. Hopefully this was good enough for the standards I've set so far.
Question:
1. Do you guys view Louise and Raziel's relationship in a romantic light? I've gotten comments from online and RL readers that note their devotion to each other trumps that of the other characters or even just the Master/Familiar bond, which many interpret as romantic. I dunno, just curious.
Review answers:
Zapper3000380 - The specters spoke the truth, though :P
Daeon Mortanius - Assuming you're still reading, I'm expecting that giggle ;)
Guest - Unkindled are pure DS3. DS1 and 2 use the Hollowing mechanic.
Goose Attack - I half-agree. Henrietta going with fakes Wales (which she did in canon) is a real black mark, though I also have to point out that everyone around her handled the royalty situation poorly: her mom refused to take the throne, she was forced to marry an old, warmongering lecher for troops and all this while she was still in grief. Granted she's definitely still wrong, but it's human to mess up.
Mingyu - Hey :D Dunno if you're still active on fanfiction, but if so then I guess this is a bit of a surprise.
Lilbigenano96 - Thanks :) It's been years since I made this fic and it's actually a shock to myself as well how far it's come along. Hopefully you're still reading despite the gap. Anyway, as for Raziel and Henrietta, I'm glad that you can sympathize with/understand them both given that they're very flawed and, at times, unlikable characters. Deliberately so, but still.
Prince Sheogorath - At least Henrietta's owning up whereas Gwynevere, at least as far as Raziel knows, just ran away and left it all behind. As for using the Dark Hand, he generally limits himself from using abyssal techniques to avoid further corruption; and even with that he's showing more traits he can't control such as the chain on his wrist or his skin flaring up in response to extreme emotions. So yeah, he mostly sticks to melee combat and pyromancy.
The blob was definitely a shout-out to Inside ;)
Sir Something - He was supposed to, but in the current chapters weapons and armor are kinda useless given his new status and abilities; not to mention he's too small to use most of them. As for DS3 lore, I'm still thinking. The Ringed City and Gwyn's secret daughter are interesting without a doubt, but it was hard enough cramming DS2 lore into this. DS3 might just cause it to implode.
Boret98 - Thank you :) Though, Henrietta going back to 'I hate my fucking job' probably won't work given her affirmation of wanting to make good on ending the cycles.
Guest 2 and Justaguy221 - Unlikely. On the off-chance he was alive Raziel would kill him. I can make a reference later, though.
Caios23 - Wait's over :D