The Castle of the Tyrant
(First part)
High-Rock, the province of the Bretons did not bear this name without reason, it was purely descriptive. It was essentially a mountainous country. If you went from east to west, you would go through three major folds. Coming from Skyrim, the country of the Nords, one should first cross the Druadach Mountains populated by the ferocious Reachmen. Then the traveler should climb the country's largest chain, the Wrothgar Mountains, the home of the Orcs. Most of the geographical guides stopped there, forgetting the Peaks of Doomrag. It was true that they were neither the largest nor the highest chains in the country. The Peaks of Doomrag cut the Rivenspire region in half. They therefore played a strategic role, forming a natural barrier between the Duchy of Verandia and its neighbors, the Kingdom of Shornhelm and the Duchy of Boralis.
In the plain of Verandia, autumn continued and the trees looked like red-haired colors of this season. However, the Peaks of Doomrag did not enjoy such a mild climate. Everywhere it was just a white landscape. The legions of conifers that rose to assault the slopes were wrapped in a snow mantle that rose to the low clouds. The snowflakes fell continuously amidst the roar of the wind, which engulfed the valleys, bringing the temperatures ever lower and sculpting the streams with a lace of ice.
At first glance, the monster looked like a gorilla... if there were gorillas with white fur. Jumping on the spot, waving his huge arms or banging his chest, he indulged in a threatening pantomime, discovering a carnivorous dentition.
However, horny points protruded from her shoulders. In addition, the creature had a third eye in the middle of her forehead... an ice troll.
- Shiro, remembers, the fat of the troll protects it from weapons and it regenerates. However, it is vulnerable to fire.
Artoria's voice was torn apart by the howling of the storm, but the Amber-eyed blacksmith nodded:
- Trace On!
The weapon that appeared in his hands was not a Noble Phantasm, at most it could have been called Mystical Code if it had been of earthly origin. However, it was a relatively recent addition to Shiro Emiya's collection. He had discovered this two-handed Nibenian sword in the arsenal of the Legion barracks at the Imperial City. It name was Blue Fire Claymore...
The color of a flame reflects its temperature. A blue flame like the one that gave its name to this sword was more than 1200°C.
Shiro rushed forward and the troll raised his two arms banging on one side, and then on the other in a pendulum swing. But his blows closed on the void. The young Japanese had leapt aside and... the claymore fell in a terrible blow, cutting the arm of the anthropophagical monster.
The humanoid howled and retreated, considering Shiro with his completely black eyes... Already, the blacksmith leapt. The blade plunged into the Troll's chest, even as Shiro swiveled sharply over a hip and kicked to release his weapon.
The snow troll collapsed on its knees, seriously injured... and unable to regenerate because the fire was burning around the wound. His opponent did not give him time to regroup. The blade described a perfect arc of a circle, sinking deep into the shoulder to stop only in the middle of the chest.
- Bravo Shiro!
Artoria smiles, legitimately proud of her pupil's progress, trolls were powerful monsters, almost impossible to kill weapons by hand because of their regenerative abilities and resistance to blows. However, there had not been combat but execution.
As Saber smiled at her boyfriend, Rin looked up. Despite the fur clothing that turned her into a kind of big mattress, she trembled with cold:
- Congratulations... hurrah... another victory for the greaaaaaat warrior Shiro Emiya! However, if we stay here, we will all die. The storm is getting stronger and stronger. We have to find shelter before dark or we will not survive.
At her side, Gonderic de Bel-Amant bowed forward:
- Putting irony aside, your friend is right, Lady Artoria.
With the help of Blaise, the knight's squire, Shiro had just returned to the saddle after letting his sword dissipate into bluish prana butterflies. He strengthened his eyes, going through the snow squalls that devoured the landscape, transforming it into a moving picture.
- There is light in this direction.
Painfully, the five young peoples set out again. The snow was now rising above the horses' anteriors and they were struggling to advance. However, the light of a hearth was piercing among the whirling winds that rattled their coats and hung snowflakes on their eyelashes.
They approached the side wall of the rocky canyon between two mountains. The rocks that formed the wall appeared to them only as dark shapes with faded outlines. Yet a light was rising among them... the flickering of a flame.
A fireplace surrounded by stones had been installed in a cave; an old man in a white robe maintained it. Without raising his eyes to the newcomers, he spoke to them:
- Good evening traveler, you must have lost your way. There is nothing at the end of this road other than the castle of Doomcrag. Come in, come in, I have nothing to offer you but the warmth of my fire, but you will be much better than on the outside.
Descending from her steed, Saber bowed:
- Thank you, noble old man. Your hospitality is more than assessed with this torm.
- That's the least I can do.
As the young pulled their mounts to safety, the howling of a wolf rose in the night. Artoria drew closer to the fire. The old man had not stopped staring at the flames for a moment. His attitude was strange. The King of Knights felt no threat, nevertheless she had learned caution.
- Tell me, noble old man, you look nothing like a natural of these mountains. Your dress seems to be that of a magician's order. What strange concourse of circumstances makes you find yourself spending the night in this cave?
- That's a question I would be very happy to answer, my fair Damsel. My name doesn't matter, but I was until recently the tutor to Duke Dunoryan's children. However, I argued with his brother Atrum... an arrogant, cruel and detestable character... Fearing that vile snake would make me murder, I fled and wandered into the storm.
Saber felt her trouble increase. "Recently"? Duke Dunoryan had died ten years ago! Rumor had it that he was murdered along with his wife and three children. The designated culprit was none other than Atrum Galliasta, his brother... and reincarnation of Caster's original Master at the beginning of the Fifth Fuyuki Grail War.
Artoria cautiously agreed:
- Sir, I think you did the right thing by fleeing the castle. Atrum Galliasta wouldn't be at a crime by. To tell you the truth, we are on this road to do justice, on behalf of all the victims of this sorry figure.
Without raising his eyes from the flames, the good old man nodded:
- I wish you success. To help you, I will give you the contents of the cassette I saved during my flight. But for now, sleep, I'll stay up... no one will disturb you.
- And yourself, are you not sleepy?
- I could only sleep when Atrum Galliasta died. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of his Death Dogs. They appear in the cave and slit my throat with their icy fangs...
All around Artoria, the room began to turn and the young woman struggled to maintain consciousness. Her friends, taken by surprise, did not have time to mobilize their forces.
Magic!
Understanding that the sleep that fell on her was nothing natural, Saber mobilized the power of her Dragon Core. Mana Burst. The flood of energy swept away the spell. She tried to draw her sword, but bowed her arm... instead of the old man there was only a skeleton wrapped in a ragged dress.
The others slept until sunrise, watched over by the supernatural brightness of the old man's camp fire. In the morning, the magic flames suddenly went out.
Shiro approached the skeleton and concentrated to use Structural Analysis. It was the first time he used this Magecraft on a human body and... he swallowed his saliva... it was not very pleasant:
- He died a little more than ten years ago... killed by war dogs... undead hounds with black aura and burning eyes like embers.
Shiro bent over and took the key that the skeleton was hanging from his neck by a lace. A case with rusty hinges was located next to the body. The blacksmith played the lock without difficulty, discovering several labeled vials. There were potions of healing and other utilities. He entrusted everything to Rin, certainly the one who could benefit most from it.
Gonderic had fading a little:
- We spent the whole night with a ghost.
- No, Sir Gonderic, we spent the whole night under the protection of an unfortunate man who will finally know the sleep of death when his assassination is avenged.
Shiro's repartee caused the knight to flinch and blush with vague excuses. But the blacksmith did not care. Tracing a shovel and a pickaxe, he worked to dig a grave.
Doomcrag castle was an impregnable stronghold.
Strictly speaking, this castle was not very impressive. It was a square fortress with a tower at each corner, according to an old plan. Two of the belfries were even archaic square towers. As for the walls, they were not really thick.
However, he needed little more; nature had done more to fortify Doomcrag than the human hand. No army could cross the mountains, much less after the first snows. A troop that risked it should have gone through narrow passes where it would have been easy to bury it under avalanches.
After days of being harassed, the survivors would have found themselves at the end of an ancient glacial valley, on three sides, high cliffs impossible to climb. The only road through this triangular tear lead to the castle gates except... just before the door, a wide crevasse cut the path. It could only be crossed by a narrow bridge.
Saber opened the way shaking in her hand a traced version of Caliburn.
She became immobilized in the midst of a vague malaise. As she raised her hand for her companions to stop, her gaze passed through the landscape of severe beauty. Rock and snow... snow and rock... there was nothing that would put them in danger. Yet she seemed to be hearing some sort of alarm bell.
Shiro joined her. The young man strengthened his eyes to look for what had attracted the attention of his friend. Reinforcement is an elementary Magecraft. It is often the first technique taught to children in Earth's Magi families. It is also one of the most difficult to explain. Reinforcement amplifies a quality. In fact, it is a question of filling the gaps in the matter with prana in order to reinforce (hence the name) some of its qualities. This can improve the hardness of an object or make the food more caloric.
Strengthening the view means making the view more efficient. Thus, two kilometers away, Shiro could count the nails on a wooden bridge or...
The red hair Magus made a cry of surprise and pointed to the narrow stone bridge that crossed the rift:
- There is no snow on the deck!
... or count snowflakes when there were.
Rin, in turn, approached:
- That's right, the landscape is covered with snow on both sides of the fault, but the bridge itself is as clear as if it had just been swept. And of course, there is no trace of steps that betray the passage of so-called sweepers.
The Magus with pigtails approached the nearest pillar and held out her hand... to see her cross the stone.
- Charming! This is not a bridge... but an illusion thrown by a sadist!
Having shouted the last word in the direction of the castle, she crossed her arms with a sullen air.
Shirou approached the rift to take a look below.
- Falling into the abyss would not have been the end of our troubles... there are Death Dogs at the bottom.
As they were chatting, Blaise had walked along the fault towards its narrowest point.
- Lady Artoria, come and see.
Intrigued, the King of Knights followed the squire, he stood near the crag. As she approached, she frowned and then indulged in a strange "dance" that surprised her friends, moving away, approaching... and then describing a circle arch without ceasing to fix a point.
Rin and Shiro exchanged bewitched glances before the blacksmith called Saber. She approached them and turned to the cliff:
- You can't see anything from here, unbelievable.
- What are you talking about?
- The wall is a continuous cliff, isn't it?
- Yes...
- Blaise?
The squire showed a point before them:
- It's a trompe-l'oeil, ma'am. Between this part of the wall and this one, there is a drop. And in this hollow begins a ramp following the crack that you see there, it goes up there, and then it goes down here, on the other side of the rift.
Gonderic had also approached:
- Well, then we know how to get over the hurdle.
- Wait a minute.
All stared at Saber. She reflected, and then shook her head:
- No, we will do otherwise. Our enemy probably trapped the passage. Shiro, how do you Trace a Noble Phantasm? You need to analyze it, right?
The amber-eyed blacksmith strangely stared at his girlfriend, surprised by the apparent change of subject:
- Yes, of course.
She lifted up the copy of the Sword of Selection:
- But you've never seen Caliburn.
- Oh, that's because I had access to your memory during the Grail War. This blade is closely linked to your identity, after all...
Saber turned to Rin:
- Rin if I'm thinking strongly about something, can you pull it out of my mind and pass it on to Shiro?
The Magus appeared stunned and rubbed her chin a few moments before drawing a small spiritual gem from her purse.
- Yes... I can do it.
- All right, let's start, then.
Shiro relaxed as Tohsaka asked. Concentrating, the latter had placed a spiritual gem in the middle of a small magic circle. She had first asked Saber to stick to it, now the redhead had replaced her.
Suddenly images formed in his mind. A man... a knight... Shiro knew he had never met him, yet he recognized him. His name was Osla. He was one of his youth companions... no, one of Artoria's companions... The feeling of sharing Saber's memories made him lose some sense of reality. The vision focused on the short and wide dagger Osla wore to the waist in a sheath of wood and leather. The blade had a name, Gyllellfawr.
Shiro held his hand at his temple, wincing. He felt a sudden headache and a desire to vomit... it was not an ordinary malaise. His ability to record a Noble Phantasm often caused him such setbacks.
However, Artoria's memories continued. Through her eyes, he saw Osla approaching a tumultuous river, holding his dagger in his hand. When he got to the narrowest spot, he threw the gun out and shouted:
- Gyllellfawr!
And the weapon turned into a... bridge!
A colossus in armor of plates approached Saber. Since he was not wearing a helmet, Shiro was able to detail his oval face and the blond hair in disorder which he was wearing. A handsome man, but his expression reminded him a little of Gilgamesh. His eyes were hard, his face scorned. His name was... Kay. The name filled Artoria's memory, mixed with a web of contradictory feelings... a sister's love for her older brother, the sovereign's irritation for an indocile oathbound. Kay, the name was obviously familiar to Shiro, it was the foster brother of King Arthur, also knight of the Round Table and seneschal of Camelot.
Kay set out from a vast burst of laughter that seemed forced upon him:
- With this we have a sufficient bridge for the army of the three islands of Brittain, the three adjacent islands and all their loot! Too bad that big knife is the only use of that son of a bitch Osla. Because it's not very useful in combat... isn't it Osla the coward?
Before the vision wears off, Shiro still experiences the expression of pure hatred on Osla's face. Gasping, the Magus swallowed and tried to breathe regularly and slowly. His eyes rose up on Artoria who looked at him with a restless expression:
- Are you all right?
He had a pale smile:
- At times like this, I regret returning Avalon to you. Don't worry, Osla's knife is not a very powerful Noble Phantasm and I feel its blueprint has been added to the others. I just need to rest a little. The first Tracing is always the hardest.
Saber nodded and silence settled between them... for a while, then Shiro turned to her. The young woman had a sad expression, seeming to be immersed in her memories.
- I have never heard of Osla.
- Still one of my youth companions, he stayed with me for a long time. He knew Camelot and the Round Table.
The way she said it made Shiro's heart crack:
- But he did not stay until the end, he added.
Artoria had a pale smile:
- He ended up turning on me (1)... like many others and I killed him.
Shiro approached the rift. He took a deep breath and exhaled deeply:
I'm the bone of my sword
Steel is my body and fire is my blood
The two verses of his incantation made its effect. As he stretched out his hand, the Magic circuits of his two arms began to pulsate. In front of his fingers, a bluish shape appeared amidst electric shocks. Slowly, the figure became denser, passing from the status of a luminous mirage to that of a large knife in a red sheath.
Critical, Shiro examined the weapon he had just grabbed, finding it exactly similar to the one he had seen in Artoria's memories.
He approached the rift and threw the knife:
- Gyllellfawr!
Reacting to his name, the Noble Phantasm turned into a bridge. Shiro shook his head, disbelieving. Still, there was some completely idiotic Noble Phantasm..." I want a Noble Phantasm that turns into a bridge". He scratched his head... yes, why not. After all, it was no stupider than Prydwen, Artoria's shield that also served as a surfboard.
A certain Magus with pigtail hairstyle passed by:
- Well, it is time to visit the tyrant of Verandia.
Following Rin, Shiro entered the strange bridge. However, what blacksmith or Magus could have built such stupid Noble Phantasms... Did Zelrecht make Noble Phantasms? He will have to ask Tohsaka.
Can an army of five attacks a castle?
Normally the question would be absurd, but the five who faced the defenders were not ordinary individuals.
The entrance passage was not very attractive. It was a steep slope rising from the entrance gallows to a harrow that gave access to the inner courtyard. They had gone through the first door - wide open- without any sign of the castle guards. However, when they were in the mid-slope, the harrows at both ends of the crossing had fallen back into a heavy crash. Since then, crossbow bolt have been firing from arrowslit through both walls, while rocks have been released from the cornice.
As a new block of stone fell on them, Gonderic de Bel-Amant stood up to stand up, shield raised. The rock struck the aegis... and disintegrated, while a cry of pain revealed the end of the attacker.
Since his meeting with the Mirror Knight (2), Bel-Amant wore his armor. Now, the armor of the Mirror Knight was a Noble Phantasm of rank A! His power was to send back the attacks directed against him (3).
Artoria stood up, worried... and almost missed being hit by a crossbow bolt that broke to her right.
- We cannot go on like this, roared Shiro, furious and in retrospect terrified of seeing death near his beloved.
He held out his hand:
- Trace On!
The sword that appeared looked strikingly like Caliburn. Its shape, its crescent guard and its size were identical to the point that one might think they came out of the same mold. Nevertheless, Caliburn was a coronation sword inlaid with gold and blue glass paste. While this one was much more soberly decorated.
It was "Gram: The Dawn of Ruin", also called the "Sword of the Sun".
It was taken from the trunk of Yggdrasil, the tree carrying the eight worlds of Scandinavian mythology by Sigmund, the father of the legendary Sigurd, the killer of the dragon Fafnir.
- Bölverk Gram...
Electric arcs began to crack striking the ground around the blacksmith with amber eyes. Then a circle of green light formed around the sword and jet daggers materialized there... before they made their way to the tower defending the entrance post.
Gram, in turn, was thrown forward in a green beam of light. The blade crashed in the middle of the throwing knife ring and Shiro jumped, putting one hand on the knob of the Dawn of Ruin:
-... Heaven Wheel of Destruction!
The amber-eyed hero had only time to step back before an uncontrollable chain reaction started. A geyser of green light rose to heaven, blinding all who looked in its direction. The tower, gutted, disintegrates, throwing heaps of debris in all directions.
The explosion was "only" equivalent to an anti-fortress Noble Phantasm of rank B+, but this was more than enough to open the castle. A good quarter lay on the ground, collapsed, reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble!
Even Saber seemed impressed, shaking her head, she leaned over Shiro to whisper in his ear:
- Poser.
The redhead, embarrassed, massaged his neck laughing in an unnatural way.
Her friend considered for a moment what remained of the defensive position. Climbing the unstable ruins seemed unnecessarily dangerous.
- I will make my way.
Pulling back a foot and rising her sword, pointing towards the wall, Artoria closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them with a shouting:
- Sword of Selection, grant me power! Cleave the Wicked!
The weapon began to radiate a golden aura. The tip now looked like a shining star of all the lights of the spectrum.
-Caliburn!
A dazzling golden beam struck the rampart. For a few seconds, he seemed completely unaffected, then sparks of gold appeared between the stones... before a succession of explosions dismantled a piece of the wall.
A complete panic had seized the surviving defenders and Saber turned around smiling at Shiro. Gonderic and Blaise looked at them, amazed by the power of these two warriors... unlike Rin. A hand on the face, in the classic pose of the "facepalm", she shook her head:
- When you're done playing who's pissing farthest, can we continue our lead?
Atrum Galliasta was a Magus who specialized in a Magecraft called Primordial Cursing Technique. The birds of a feather flock together, it was not surprising that he rallied to Angra Mainyu, the incarnation of all the curses weighing upon men. Both did not shrink from murder to achieve their ends and saw in the deaths of millions of innocents only as a footnote statistic in the fulfillment of their plans.
Despite the revolt of his lieges and his cities, the crushing of his army, the tyrant of Verandia had kept faith in himself, persuaded of his intrinsic superiority over the "maggots" (that is to say, everyone but him). Above all, he was confident in Doomcrag's impregnability.
It only took a few minutes for his confidence to evaporate.
Sitting between two tapestries depicting demons, Duke Atrum held his fists on the armrests of his throne. His cry of rage earned him a restless look from the two beautiful and poorly dressed women who were curled up at his feet.
The Magus was looking at a black glass mirror that reflected a top view of its castle. The intruders faced one of his familiar monsters, a mud octopus that had used its power of earth control to turn the inner courtyard into a pothole and limit the movement of invaders... except that the creature with multiple tentacles had just collapsed, cut into pieces.
Duke Atrum had the mirror slide to reflect the east wall. The decomposed corpses of assailants killed in a previous attempt to eliminate him were rotting there. He concentrated. A spiral of blue light enveloped each body... they stood up, grabbing their bows.
The tyrant did not expect the undead to stop the assassins who had come to kill him, but they could give him a respite that he could put to good use.
He reached the centre of the throne room, quickly drawing a magic circle with colored chalks. Yes, his specialty was curses... but he also had climate control rituals. The Formalcraft could not be used directly on Nirn because the spirits governing the hours and seasons was different. Only it took more to hold Atrum Galliasta.
Staring at the black mirror, he uttered a formula that he had painfully created after several years of experimentation. Proud of him, he began to laugh:
- Buffoons, taste the power of a Magus from a great lineage!
He could see the lightning falling again and again on the court, in an impressive display of power... HIS power.
His laughter choked in his throat... In the middle of a circle of sword crackling with electricity, a redhead stood up.
- Are there... lightning rods?!
The strange redhead who was able to materialize swords had used an elementary science trick to neutralize his climate control ritual. Atrum would have been even more humiliated if he could hear Tohsaka calling his attack "third-order Magecraft ".
Seeing the five vermin who dared to challenge him this way towards the building where he was, Atrum pulled out the black mirror from its frame and withdraw by a secret passage. After all, prudence was the best part of courage... wasn't it?
Artoria stopped the fire demon attack and retaliated.T he monster looked like a kind of big biped and horned lizard. His feet were replaced by hooves made of fire that left burning marks. In his right hand, he held a kind of axe with which he tried to kill Saber.
As she fought back, repelling him thanks to her strength drawn from her Dragon Core. He blew fire through his nostrils... However, the young woman managed to jump aside to avoid the attack.
- Eisblitz!
Fortunately, Saber was not alone against this demon. The ice bolt sent by Rin covered the monster's back and left arm with ice. He screamed then if she had sprayed him with acid. The King of Knights stepped aside to find herself in the blind corner of the paralyzed arm and swirled over herself... loading Caliburn with energy. The blade, dazzling with golden light, easily cut the monster in half.
Artoria turned around gasping to look at the second demon of fire. He faced Gonderic, Shiro and Blaise. While the knight struggled in contact, insulting the monster, the other two harassed him... an effective tactic because although the demon was powerful, he was stupid, unable to realize that his blows were being returned to him by the Mirror-Armor.
When he fell in his turn, he turned into black smoke and regained the tapestry from which he came. When they entered the throne room, they were very surprise to see the demons of fire tear themselves away from the two-dimensional universe and attack them.
Rin acquiesced after looking at the wounds that now covered the demon in the picture:
- No risk of them coming out, I think they're dead. However, I would like to know how Atrum pulled that off.
Lowering her sword, Artoria inspected the room ravaged by the clash.
- We visited the entire first floor, but there are no stairs to the upper one. Shiro?
The red hair Magus nodded without a word.
A hand placed on a wall, he concentrated. Thanks to the Structural Analysis, a real three-dimensional plan of this part of the castle appeared to him. He reached out to the throne:
- The left armrest controls a secret door behind this tapestry.
The first room into which they entered in the upper floor was a morbid temple. The high altar was dominated by a bust representing a wolf-headed humanoid. Chained to the stone table were two demons with humanoid busts, but whose head looked like a cow skull with brazing eyes. Their lower body was that of a snake and they had bat wings on their shoulders. The whole thing was particularly repugnant.
As they advanced between the benches and the columns supporting the roof, a prostrate priest rose up. He wore a long hooded dress cut in a satin of the most beautiful red:
- Welcome to the temple of Angra Mainyu. Are you coming to join his crusade against false gods?
Artoria closed her hands on Caliburn, pointing the blade at the man with the invisible face, draped in the shadow of his hood:
- Priest, I have come to put an end to this heresy! Angra Mainyu is not a god, and even if he were, I would fight him just as well.
The man reached out behind him and... a tear appeared in the air, above the wolf-headed bust representing the Supreme Spirit of Evil. Saber held his breath. She recognized the circular breach, haloed with red light that led into the Grail of Fuyuki. For the first time since her arrival on Nirn, Avenger manifested itself directly.
A filthy black mud flowed from the tear, materializing the billions of curses that formed the very nature of Angra Mainyu.
- May my God answer your invitation to fight, get ready!
There was a sound of broken chains and the demons freed by their creator took flight in a great flap of wings.
- Allow me to make the introductions... here are two sons of Angra Mainyu, they are called Plague and Leprosy, incarnation of these two diseases. In recent years, they have liberally spread these plagues, a gift from our master.
The monsters materialized their weapons; one of them was using a black kris while the other had a short metal club strewn with barbarian ergots. The weapons had a pestilential aura.
(1) A war between Arthur and Osla is briefly mentioned in the Dream of Rhonabwy. Arthur also behaved in a very chivalrous manner, since he agreed to give Osla a time to prepare for war.
(2) See Chapter 17
(3) With some limitations: first you must wear the full armor and shield to be protected. Then the armor only returns attacks that are reflected on its polished surface. Also, an invisible attack or one carried out in complete darkness would not engender reciprocity. Lately, whether the attack is or is not returned, nothing prevents the wearer from being injured if the damage exceeds the capacity of absorbing the armor. Let us take an example: let us say that the armor provides protection of ten and that Gonderic de Bel-Amant suffers twelve damage points. The armor will absorb ten points of damage and Gonderic will lose two points of life, but his enemy will lose twelve, sent back by the armor. It is easier to understand the Mirror Knight's warning "Why … did they die?" asked Gonderic "They killed themselves." answered the fairy-knight (see Chapter 17).