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Vandal staggered back, overwhelmed by the powers he absorbed. The flames that burned on behalf of the millions of souls that wandered the Howling Citadel now surged within his heart, as a risen fire upon a well tended hearth would blaze anew. The changes on all those who inadvertently linked themselves to him were immediately felt. Bodies, once shriveled from the hollowing, were renewed with the fires of life. The whole inner sanctum of the cathedral was aglow with the restoration of their souls, which thereby led to the restoration of vitality to their ailing mortal vessels.

The faces of the faithful undead, hideous and gray from decomposition, became lively pink and fat with vibrant flesh. They beheld their savior and fell to their knees in gratitude for what he had done, although there were some who saw his actions for what they were- damnation.

The charred knight was aghast, "What have you done?" He touched his face, felt the life therein and suddenly recoiled as though the very touch burned him. "What have you done?!"

"Saved both the people of this world and yours, I reckon." Geralt defended Vandal.

"Yes." The charred knight said angrily, "Yes he did. But at what cost?" His boots stomped noisily as he walked back to the open gilded doors, and he lifted a hand to point at the wandering world above the Continent's skies. "Look! Look at what you've wrought, Vestige of Warmth! The final world shard approaches!"

All gathered at the cathedral courtyard to witness the bleeding light in the sky, like a comet streaking across space- a falling star of fire and ice heading straight for the world below. It was difficult to determine when it would land exactly, but it was coming and it would arrive soon.

Vandal felt that bit of reality sink in, but stood by his decision. He looked the charred knight in the eye with his glowing golden orbs and said, "You were running on borrowed time...all of you. The Ebony Heart, I felt it dying when I reignited the flame and became its vessel. Its life was slowly fading, the final world shard would have come down no matter what happened. That was inevitable, but saving you from the curse- that was not."

All who heard him, those who still doubted his gift, they listened and ceased in their complaints. The charred knight, even though he saw the wisdom in his words, he still feared the coming apocalypse. "So what now?"

"You are all soul-bound to me, but that does not make me your master nor you my slaves." Vandal replied, "You are free to do as you wish...but."

"But what?"

Vandal felt hesitant to trouble them with his request, but he said it anyway. "I ask for your aid, all of you...for there will come a battle that even I cannot fight alone. As it was when our people overthrew the Mad Sorcerer King, so it is when the Iron Revenant comes for this world. I shall call for every man, woman or beast...of every race and creed- cursed or not- to fight by my side."

"Really, everyone?" The charred knight was not convinced, "You are a mere knight to the people of this world- a champion of a kingdom amongst many. Even if by some chance you make them see past their petty grievances, as they no doubt have, by then it will be too late. You are fighting against the storms of a hurricane, against fate itself!"

Vandal lowered his eyes and became silent.

Geralt spoke for him, remembering something he said back in the palace tower in Cintra. "The future's yet to be written. There's no fate but what we make for ourselves. Don't deceive yourselves."

The charred knight raised a threatening finger his way, "And who are you to make such a bold claim?"

The witcher shrugged nonchalantly, "Someone who's lived long enough to know that destiny and fate's a bunch of horseshit. Besides, what do you have to lose that you haven't already lost?"

There was another silence shared among them, one easily broken as Vandal spoke again, turning to everyone that gathered at the cathedral. All, even the soul-bound warriors who wandered in after he put out the fires of the Ebony Heart, he spoke to them, pleading for their aid. "Join me. Pledge to me that you will stand at my side when the time comes. Stand as we all once stood. Let us deny the Iron Revenant his most coveted prize, turn this world into his grave rather than his staging ground for his dreams of conquest. Only when we are united, only then will we put an end to this nightmare. What say you?"

For the most part, his words were able to convince the whole of the Howling Citadel to join his cause, while others were swept into it alongside the willing due to the fact that there was no other choice. The coming of the Iron Revenant was at hand, such a fact tended to broaden one's perspective about the bigger picture.

In the relatively short time that Vandal arrived at the Continent, he had evolved beyond just a mere knight. A small town hero to revered knight, and a champion to liberator. Once in a lifetime, fate had quite the habit of choosing its favorites, weaving the threads of destiny to set men and women into pivotal roles that would decide the outcome of future events. Sometimes, their names would never be known. Sometimes, it made them famous. And yet, in spite of these crowning achievements, Vandal did not wish to be glorified in it. His every effort was driven to protect the land that he had come to know, in essence, as his new home. To him, there was no room for glory-seeking.

He lost Saggrel, they all did, he would not lose this one too.

With the curse lifted from the Howling Citadel and, by extension, the deadwoods that preceded it, the mists retreated and allowed the sun to cast its warmth upon the dead soil. The warriors that endured hell to destroy a great evil, departed and made for Cintra, their bodies exhausted from the task but had hearts light with satisfaction. At the very least, Cintra would breathe easier, though not for long.

"Geralt." Vandal said to the witcher as they rode side by side, at the helm of a marching throng of soul-bound warriors. "Thank you, for standing by me no matter how overwhelming this all was."

"Hmph." The witcher grunted but said nothing else, for his mind was weighed down with heavy thoughts as well.

Working with Vandal was...eventful, so far.


When the warriors returned to Cintra a week later, there had been a noticeable decrease in the undead incursions, but the king did not lift the lockdown for fear that any attempt to do so might be premature and result in the endangerment of his subjects. Fortunately, however, the wait did not last long and the sentinels caught sight of something approaching from the southeastern high-road. An army, too large and pressed together to count, marched up the dirt road towards the capital.

At first, the sight of it struck fear into the hearts of the cityfolk, and the defenders at their walls quickly made preparations for the siege that they were so sure would come at last. But just as the news of the army's approach on Cintra traveled up the streets towards the king's palace, the eyes on the watchtowers of the south wall caught a glimpse of the lion knights that were dispatched some time ago by Dagorad.

Eager to return to the safety of the capital's high walls, Vandal's party rode to the front of the throng so that they would be easily spotted by the watchmen, and this worked in their favor.

"Never thought I'd miss the sight of those walls." Enris remarked as their horses trotted up the path. "I've not even the strength to revel in this. All I want is a good swig, a warm bath and a soft bed to lie on." All the other men riding beside him echoed the sentiment, including Vandal, who found himself missing Serah and Sandy terribly.

"How 'bout you, Vandal?" The burly mercenary asked, "You got plans to celebrate the night?"

The young knight shook his head, "There's gonna be an awful lot of planning ahead of me, I reckon. Too much to do, and I fear, too little time. No, good Enris, I shall not celebrate this night- or any night for that matter. Not until after this war is over."

"Keep thinking like that and you've already lost." Enris told him, "Wars will come and go, eternal as the surf on the tide. But living the moment? Oho, those come only once in a lifetime. You've got strength left in ya, so live! Gather your harpies, have a drink or two, love them like it's your last night on the Continent. Worry about planning and strategizing later, 'cause tomorrow's gonna worry about itself."

"I'll take that under advisement." Vandal answered with a grateful smile.

They rode as far as the gates of the south wall, then waited for the reception party to verify their arrival. Once all had been settled, what would have been another harrowing day for the capital became a day of rejoicing for the cityfolk. Word spread quickly about Vandal's deeds, and he along with the other warriors at his company were welcomed with all honors befitting of heroes. However, Vandal did not partake of the accolades thrown his way, for at the first chance he got, the knight rode for the palace to inform the king of what he discovered.

He brought with him, aside from his company of the surviving warriors, the resurrected generals and champions of Saggrel whom he saved at the Howling Citadel. He had given them a second chance in life, as soul-bound warriors, who would be instrumental in the battles to come. They were towering figures that evoked awe and admiration from all who bore witness to their parade through the streets of the capital.

Mighty warriors clad in ancient but sturdy armor, bearing aloft weapons of every make and size. There were beautiful maidens among them too, powerful mistresses of the sorcerous arts adorned with semi-transparent royal silks or covered with coiling serpent tattoos stemming from Saggrel's golden age. Some of them were borne up on wings of light, or rode beasts that no human eye had ever seen before, like griffins or basilisks.

They all noticed one thing that all the visitors shared with their champion, in that they all had glowing golden eyes.

When King Dagorad and Queen Adalia, along with all the lords and ladies of the court, greeted them, they could not hide their astonishment. Their scribes, responsible for documenting everything that went on, paused in their works to gaze at the awesome sight before them. Beside Vandal stood a giant of a man, not unlike the one Dagorad slew on the battlefield some time ago, who wore a dark red suit of armor patterned after a bristling griffin with a helm shaped like an angry bird to match. On the other, there was a man just a head taller than Vandal who wore faded cast-iron that had scales and a collection of vipers running along its pauldrons and greaves. And lastly, standing quietly behind him was a woman cloaked in embroided black silks. Her head was adorned with an emerald crown, and the colors of the thick paint around her eyes ran down her cheeks, as though she was in mourning.

"Your Royal Highness, Your Grace." Vandal addressed Dagorad and Adalia first, "We have returned, having vanquished the threat in the Southeast."

After he made his bow of respects to both monarch and queen, he introduced his new allies that would aid his every endeavor. There were three of them, the best he could find among all those who once wandered the undead citadel's catacombs. "Allow me to introduce to you; General Rathir, Lady Belen, and Knight-Captain Helyc."

King Dagorad looked them over and said in return, "I find your success as much anticipated good news, but I have to ask, and I do believe I speak for everyone here in Cintra, who are these people you've brought to our door?"

"I regret to inform the king and queen, the court of Cintra, and all of the kingdom entire, but you must all know that while the threat of the undead incursions has been stopped..." Vandal revealed, "...there exists another threat that not only concerns this kingdom but all kingdoms of the Continent."

His words evoked murmurs of uncertainty now. And when the time came for him to tell everyone present at the court that day about the tale of Mad Lorosi, the destruction of Saggrel, and his soon return- uncertainty grew into a potent mixture of horror and fear. Now they knew that the horrors they faced in the not so distant past paled in comparison to what awaited them.

But when Vandal mentioned that the resurrected heroes were once present at the siege of the Mad Sorcerer King's bastion, hope was quick to spring up.

King Dagorad had the city reopened and allowed the cityfolk to celebrate their heroes' victory, not knowing that the same soul-bound warriors that now stood behind its walls were in fact the same ones that threatened all of the kingdom a week before. He had the visitors settled in, finding room in the garrisons and barracks for the warriors of Saggrel, then entertained their generals to discuss more about the dangers that awaited them and how they could combat it.

The king did not forget the most important part of that event, which was rewarding his task force, especially the witcher and his knight.

When asked whatever the two warriors wished of him, Geralt decided to hold off on his reward as he hadn't decided what he wanted yet, while Vandal requested two things that the king more than felt he deserved having.

Vandal asked Dagorad for lands to provide for the refugees in Cintra, so that he could give them housing and a place to work- all paid from his own coin. Second, he wished for the return of Craven Boshly's knighthood and the return of his confiscated lands, as he had proven himself to be capable of transcending his cowardice and shown the values of a knight in the fires of battle. Moved by Vandal's thought of compassion, but limited by circumstances beyond his control, Dagorad worked to grant a measure of the same.

He cleared Boshly's name, but did not grant him his lands. Instead, he gave the lands over to Vandal.

If Boshly had anything to say about the latter, he certainly did not show it. In truth, he was just happy that he would no longer be called Craven, and he was more than grateful for Vandal's support. Later that day, he repeated his pledge in serving Vandal for all his days, clearly showing that the effects of his time with the Champion of Cintra ran deep.

While the city erupted into celebration once more, and its courts made preparations for war, Sir Boshly led any of the refugees living in the reservation districts of the capital to the nearby properties west of the wall that now belonged to Sir Vandal- or rather, Lord Vandal. There, they set up a temporary shelter of tents while they worked to build sustainable housing for all the families that fled with them, as it was not yet safe to return to the towns and villages they escaped from.

Sir Weyland and Kane, along with the other knights, returned home to be with their loved ones. Their night of celebration did not go so well, for their dreams were haunted by the nightmarish things they saw.

Enris and the mercenaries who survived the harrowing experience, in spite of their weary state, partied away their coin to the last like the warriors of Skellige. This was so, for they knew that it may be their last.

Vandal likewise returned to be with Serah and Sandy, who welcomed him home in the only way they knew how, getting drunk and ravaging their knight paramour till the wee hours of the morning.

As for Geralt of Rivia, the mighty witcher, he quietly slipped away and rode north towards Kaer Morhen. A war was coming, and one lone witcher was not enough to stand the stormy night alone.

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