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The armored greater dragon's chest heaved, and everyone saw its fiery breath coming. But while all others dove out of the way, the soul-bound sorceress stood her ground and conjured a spell to force the reptile's mouth shut. The result was nothing short of comical as the dragon reared its head back and sneezed the fire out of its nostrils, like a kettle pumping out its steam through its nozzle when its water reached boiling point.
The beast squealed and shook its head as it felt those invisible hands clamping down on its snout, attempting to free itself from the sorceress' spell. The woman's arms strained as her hands, clasped together, held on to that invisible leash. Every movement the dragon made, she seemed to be dragged along with it. Finally, the dragon raised its winged forearms and moved to sweep the offending sorceress aside. And she, realizing what the beast planned to do, broke her hold on its leash and conjured a magical barrier to protect herself.
The arm connected, sending the sorceress along with her magical bubble flying back into a limestone pillar. Her landing was soft, thanks to the protective barrier which absorbed the impact.
With its jaws freed from her spell, the dragon roared angrily and stomped its way through the ruins to snap its teeth at the few souls who dared to put up a fight. The soul-bound archers alternated between firing and withdrawing, while Vandal and Enris continued to skirt around the beast in order to flank it. All the Nilfgaardians scattered, save for their commander. The man bravely dug his heels into the dirt as he spun around and went directly for the beast, sword raised to strike as the armored snout came his way.
His weapon struck the plates and bounced right off. When the dragon was within striking distance, it opened up its mouth and seized the commander between its jaws, though only managing to keep him right on top its tongue instead of between its teeth. Driven by a desperate instinct for survival, the Nilfgaardian buried his sword right up the roof of the dragon's mouth and pinned the weapon squarely in such a way that the dragon could not completely close its mouth.
Not wishing to remain there while the dragon was still quite capable of cooking him with its fiery breath, the commander scrambled right off its tongue and tumbled over into the ground outside.
Left with a mouth that would not close, just moments after freeing itself from being trapped shut, the dragon huffed with frustration and stopped to pick at the sword with its taloned fingers. It paid little heed to the arrows bouncing off its armor and the warriors poking at its sides and legs. Vandal saw this and took note of the fact that the beast did not at all seem so invincible from within as it was without.
"Hmm, I wonder..." He muttered as he thought of a way to kill the dragon by exploiting this one weakness.
As soon as the dragon plucked out the sword and resumed its rampage, Vandal immediately jumped into the fray and attacked. He fought to wrest the dragon's attention from the others to focus on him instead, earning himself more than his share of the armored reptile's wrath. The baron spun to the side just as the flames blew right past him. The air grew unbearably hot the closer he got to the enraged dragon, and when the last breath of fire spent its last burst, the beast's maw yawned wide as it seized Vandal.
This time, it made sure that its victim was crushed between its teeth on the way down.
The man's armor emitted crunch after crunch as teeth shattered cast-iron and steel into scrap. And while it did little to dissuade the dragon from devouring its prey, the blood had a peculiar taste as it burned atop its tongue. With a satisfied gulp, the dragon swallowed Vandal. All the baron's men stared in confusion, wondering how far his abilities would protect him as he was quite literally in the belly of the beast.
They did not need to wait long as the dragon suddenly halted in its tracks. An unpleasant sensation started to well up from within its chest, starting right above its belly. It gradually progressed into a sharp spike of pain, relentless and steadily rising, like something was cutting its way through its stomach and up to its heart.
The mighty dragon screamed, its voice so deafeningly loud that all those who were closer to it started to bleed from the ears. Enris and Sir Weyland ducked down and covered their ears as the roar grew even louder. Then, as if something cut its breath off, the dragon's voice became hoarse until it finally went silent.
The winged reptile emitted a tired sigh and fell to the earth dead. When the dust cleared, all drew close to inspect the large corpse. Something was moving inside of it, one that Enris could only guess would be the young baron.
And sure enough, Vandal cut his way out of the dragon's side and spilled into the dust along with its massive entrails. The foul stench of bile, blood and sulfur assaulted their nostrils as the gaping hole unleashed a near palpable cloud of miasma. Vandal crawled through the mess of gore and intestines with his sword still clutched tight in his right hand. The baron's armor was in shambles, broken and torn apart from shoulder to boot when the dragon chewed on him. He emerged, ruined but alive.
His wounds were already closing up, and Vandal struggled to get to his feet. His breath came in ragged gasps as he remarked, "That...That was unpleasant."
"And I thought you said that these dragons were open for negotiations." Enris said as he gripped his outstretched hand and helped him up.
"This one was clearly not." Sir Weyland observed, sheathing his sword as he moved to inspect the dragon's remains. He planted a foot on the dead lizard's snout and pushed on it a couple of times, withdrawing as soon as he deemed it unable to pose any threat to them. "Well done, baron."
"Thanks. Had to cut my way through to its heart to make sure I could kill it in one go."
Enris moved to help the others, finding to his relief that none of their soul-bound companions were killed in the fight. The Nilfgaardians, on the other hand, lost two men in the struggle, leaving only ten men including their commander to deal with. With the dragon slain, there remained the problem regarding the Nilfgaardians, as they had yet to find out about their intentions.
They faced one another again, though on more level terms as the commander seemed to be grateful for both assists. First with the armored puppets, second with the armored dragon.
"Bloede beisten!" The commander spat, referring to the dragon. He removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow, turning to speak with the baron and offer his gratitude. The commander was a middle-aged man, his ethnic origins apparent with his toned complexion and sharp cheekbones owed to his half-elven origins. "Essea...I am...thankful for your help."
"And I am grateful for yours." Vandal replied, "I wouldn't have thought about cutting the dragon from the inside if not for you."
"I am called Nyaldan aep Kaska...I command this unit." The Nilfgaardian commander introduced himself.
Vandal clutched at the loose pauldron on his left shoulder, blushing in embarrassment as the piece of metal fell right off when he touched it. He straightened himself up and returned the greeting, "I am Baron Vandal, Knight of Saggrel and Champion of Cintra. Pleased to meet you Nyaldan aep Kaska." He glanced at the nervous men clad in black armor, then back to Nyaldan. "If I may be so bold, what are you and your men doing here away from the safety of your cities?"
There was no secrecy in Nyaldan's intentions, although he carefully weighed every word before speaking. "It was not by choice. I was part of a...detachment. We were to investigate the source of the beisten...the dragons. First the attacks of the undead...now this. The imperator would not allow two threats to exist at once, so he sent us. We were once a hundred strong...now we're only ten."
"You're in luck." Vandal offered his aid, not knowing the kind of relations shared between the Nilfgaardian Empire and the northern kingdom of Cintra. "We share a common goal. We too seek the source of-"
"My lord!" Sir Weyland interrupted him with a harsh whisper as he took him aside, "I advise caution. These are Nilfgaardians, a people well known for their schemes and conniving ways. While they are not Cintra's enemies at the moment, they are certainly not our friends."
Vandal considered this carefully for a moment then asked, "I see. But what would you have me do, then?"
Weyland shrugged and didn't even hesitate when he answered, "We could kill them. They are, after all, what remains of their detachment. This commander of theirs said so. No witnesses, no repercussions. Clean and simple."
The baron was taken aback by such a cruel suggestion, "Heavens no! How could you even conceive such a treacherous thought, Sir Weyland? Shame on you!" At this, the knight frowned and pulled his lips down to a tight line as Vandal turned to speak with the Nilfgaardians. They didn't seem to have heard them talking, as their expressions did not turn hostile. "As I was saying, we share a common goal, Nyaldan. Your mission shall yet see success. You and your men have nothing to fear from us, for you are among friends."
"I thank you." Nyaldan said, "Such generosity is unusual...from a nordlingaen."
Vandal nodded, "I am not a nordling, but I appreciate the sentiment."
Nyaldan donned his helmet and translated all that had been exchanged between the two parties to his men, earning Vandal some allies for the day, though not everyone in either parties were in favor of this decision. As they waited at the threshold of the bastion for reinforcements, there was a notable rise in tensions amongst the men, although for the soul-bound they really couldn't care less as they did not harbor any resentment for Nilfgaard as the northerners did.
Later, General Rathir arrived at the helm of the soul-bound army and their Cintran allies. It took five whole hours for the army to find a way across the chasm, using the mages at their disposal to levitate stones and boulders plucked from the mountainsides to make a bridge in place of what the armored dragon destroyed. When they finally came, they were met with the sight of the dragon lying dead on the ground before the world shard bastion. And at the door stood the baron, with some new faces added to his retinue.
The Nilfgaardians stared in awe at the griffin riders, as they were more accustomed to seeing such beasts as untamed monsters instead of mounts like these. Even more awe-inspiring was the general sitting astride the biggest of them, the one clad in dark red armor fashioned in a manner that made him look like a half-man and half-bird hybrid.
"Hmm, I see you've taken care of our latest obstacle." Rathir observed the remains of the armored dragon, then dismounted. "And a greater dragon, as well. Bloody well done."
Hellsmiter cawed twice and approached the dead dragon, bent on devouring its flesh as it was still warm. The other griffins followed his example and started tearing at the exposed side where Vandal carved his way through. The beasts worked hard that day, flying around for the better part of the morning till the afternoon, and were absolutely famished.
"Lost some good men, and a good horse to that thing." Vandal declared, "I would've preferred things went the way the legends did, with us speaking to these dragons as we would with any man. But I guess that's why they called it as such- a legend."
"No matter, we are here now." Rathir said as he brushed his hand across Hellsmiter's mane. His eyes scanned the bastion before them, "Prudence suggests that we make our way inside soon. I have little desire to face more of them on open ground."
Grateful that there were no more disagreements between them, Vandal beckoned for the army to resume the march into the ruins of the great bastion. General Rathir bellowed orders for the soul-bound footmen to form up, spears at front with archers at the flanks and riders in the middle along with their commanders.
"We haven't any spare mounts for you, I'm afraid." Rathir said to the baron as he noted his lack of a horse and his sorry state of armor. "You should get that armor looked at."
Vandal shook his head and ripped away any loose bits of his armor broken or dented in the fight against the dragon, particularly the pauldrons, the rerebraces and the couters just above the vambraces on his arms. "I shall rely on finesse for most of the battles ahead of us. As for walking, I really don't mind."
Together with their Cintran and Nilfgaardian allies, the soul-bound army proceeded into the bastion, following the clamor of blacksmiths emanating from within the ruins.
Cintra
It was no secret that the arrival of the shards of Saggrel set a number of events in motion, overall resulting in putting the majority of the western part of the Continent in a state of confusion and terror.
And though some kingdoms, like Cintra, fared better as they handled the rising threat of the undead or the sudden prevalence of monster infestations in their very lands, most were dealt a severe blow in which they feared they could never recover. Tensions rose within the cities that shut its gates to the flood of peasants seeking shelter from the undead tide, as food supplies dwindled from lack of traffic and entire farms being abandoned to the encroaching abominations. An unnatural blight struck the earth wherever the undead tread, as if the land itself was dying beneath their bootheels.
By now, the threat had spread from Upper Cintra to the borders of Temeria and Cidaris. The news of undying legions falling from the sky or rising from their graves in long forgotten battlefields, once dismissed as mere superstitions, came as a shock when they started hammering at their very doors.
All this, Lady Belen saw through the enchanted mirrors sitting on the floor in a circle around her. She'd been watching the world around her through the glass adorned with precious metals and seething with dark magic for the past two days without rest, just as she'd done for many years in her past life. Belen didn't mind it much, for there was no simplicity in that routine. Seeing everything that was happening to the Continent was like being in a theatre in which she could never leave, nor did she wish to leave it.
The sorceress got to her knees and reached out to touch one of the mirrors. As soon as her fingers lightly danced atop its cold surface, the glass shimmered like the ripples in a pond.
She watched through the unseen tears in the fabric of reality at the incessant prattle of kings and their courtiers throughout the afflicted kingdoms of the north, witnessed the struggles of their armies as they faced the darker powers growing and spreading like weeds in the Continent. She even gazed into the secret chambers of Nilfgaard's gilded towers, and the most secure conclaves of the sorcerers that dwelled in Bad Ard or Aretuza. The latter were more inclined to argue about the best course of action rather than acting upon it themselves, a habit she'd seen too many times before.
Belen had been the most valued advisor in her time, a devoted spymistress and queen of secrets, and in all the years she served in courts like these she'd witnessed much incompetence among monarchs and incompetent ruling lords. She was among the first to know of Lorosi's schemes, and not a single one of those she'd warned were able to act upon it in time. All were too caught up in their asinine games, and all this was happening all over again.
But this second chance allowed her to attain a better understanding on her shortcomings, and a new perspective on what more could be done. Using her skills in pilfering secrets, she devised schemes and planned to pluck at the strings of key figures that would each serve a pivotal role in the events to come. Information was a key that could unlock many doors, and Belen knew where to find it.
A sharp rap came from the door, demanding her attention elsewhere.
Belen sat down and swept her dress aside so she could position herself more comfortably on the floor, "Come in, if you must."
The door opened, and in strode Lord Strauss. In his hands he clutched a small ledger in which the names of his most prized assets were inscribed. Belen knew every one of those names, having read the book through the magic mirrors beforehand. She knew he was coming to collect on their deal like the first time, as she promised him the secrets garnered in the time since they last spoke.
"You do not come with a guardsman at your side, Lord Strauss?" She observed without turning to look at him.
"There's a reason why I got you this tower, far from prying eyes and away from the palace." Strauss replied, "Though I feel that I needn't explain the reasons, I know you're too clever for that."
"I do enjoy a little exposition every now and then." Lady Belen said, "But I thank you, both for the compliment and understanding the need for discretion. Witnesses can be very...disconcerting."
"Indeed." The lord eyed the mirrors arranged around the sorceress and folded his hand over the ledger, "So, onto the matter at hand. What have you found for me?"
"Everything you need and plenty more." She replied. One by one, she spoke the names of the lords and ladies that required the most attention of the lot, then revealed their desires- weaknesses to exploit in order to bring them back to compliance. Such a strategy was not new in the courts of kingdoms and empires, for in them battles were won and lost without cause for whole armies to hack each other down to pieces.
Guile, finesse and wit were the skills required in playing such dangerous games. Even those that deemed themselves masters at these games had to stay sharp, lest they fall out of balance and fail altogether.
"Lord Astillogne's lands are plagued by bandits who took advantage of the chaos and plundered the abandoned towns and villages, settling down nicely in their newly claimed territory as self-proclaimed lords of the land. For weeks he's been trying to pinpoint the locations of their leaders, but to no avail. I can give the whereabouts of their leaders, all I need is a map and a discreet page to write on my behalf. Lady Cantaghest is rather concerned for her nephew, who until now remains trapped in the fortress of Attre. An undead infestation threatens the fortress, and they are in desperate need for assistance. So far, no messengers have been able to break through the blockade. This, you can act upon and gain favor with the lady in question by bringing her nephew back in one piece."
So quickly did she recite these names that Lord Strauss had little time to jot everything down. Astillogne's support would be beneficial in restoring order to the realm as he provided much of the Royal Army's supply of manpower, and the Cantaghest's were known for their fertile lands that provided the kingdom's food supply and production. Both were of strategic value to Cintra, and due to the pressing concerns in the aftermath of the most recent undead incursions, they were very difficult to keep in line.
In the end, Ubrich stared mutely at her with a mixture of skepticism and befuddlement. As the silence dragged on, Lady Belen rose up and turned her gaze towards the astonished lord. "Was there anything in need for clarification, Lord Protector?"
"How did you come to know of these things?" He asked out of curiosity.
Up until then, both Lord Astillogne and Lady Cantaghest remained tight-lipped about their problems, perhaps out of a feeling of mistrust at the handling of the crown of its own problems. He couldn't blame them that much, for Dagorad had been overly generous in all the wrong places, spending vast resources needlessly without a thought to those who might have to pay for his expenses. Morale was high among the people, but the inner circles of the court, not so.
Truly, as much as he loved his friend, he was still an impulsive king.
"Tricky business, this whole thing." Strauss remarked, "I could've spent thousands of crowns just to get a reliable spy to get a fragment or two of that information, wait for months just to receive them, then more to make some semblance of the whole and come up with my own conclusions. Yet you gave me more in less time, already put together and served up on a silver platter."
"I did give my word to be of service." Lady Belen replied, "Are you not satisfied with the results?"
"Oh I am." Strauss hoped inwardly that she wasn't reading his mind. There was no telling what kind of powers she possessed that he did not know, and the thought of that alone made him shiver. "Thank you, Lady Belen."
"Very good." She said dismissively as she knelt back down on the floor in the center of the circle of mirrors, "I shall remain here, until you have need of me again."
Strauss left the tower feeling unnerved as his thoughts turned fearfully towards the potential dangers she might pose against him. Her magic allowed her to see beyond that which mortal eyes could see, likely anywhere she wished. There were a lot of secrets in Cintra that Strauss knew even he would kill to keep buried, and to have someone within their very walls who could read into those as well.
Dangerous, like playing with fire.
When the door closed in after the lord had left, Lady Belen resumed her ritualistic activities, again peering into the mirrors and feeding on the schemes forming within a dozen courts at once. Later, she felt a palpable disturbance in space and time. She knew someone was trying to open a portal to her tower, someone who knew who she was and what she could do.
And yet, they could not open it without her permission. Before she settled into the tower room, having been provided this temporary shelter by the Lord Protector himself since they spoke within the palace walls, she had enchanted the very stones to provide her a little private space to practice her spells. No one could conjure a portal here without her say so, and now she felt intrigued enough to allow this visitor their little visit.
The Mistress of Mirrors shielded her eyes when a bright flash of light filled the room, and a bubble of energy tore through space in the wall next to her bed.
A woman emerged from the portal, dressed in emerald green robes that parted at the middle of her bust with little more than two small lengths of white twine to hold them together. Sitting on the amply displayed skin of her chest was a silver sparrow clinging to a thin silver chain around her neck. Her eyes were bright with the orange glow of power swirling within her soul, which matched her auburn hair.
"Speak of your intentions." Lady Belen sighed after eyeing her with annoyance, "Or forever be silent."
There was an obvious warning in her words, and the visitor was quick to catch on, although she seemed entirely unfazed by it. "Greetings. I am-"
"I know who you are." Belen interrupted, showing little patience for her uninvited guest. "Grache of Rivia, a graduate of Aretuza and apple of the rectoress' eye, perhaps a powerful sorceress in your own right. An adorable concept, really. But that is not what I asked of you, I inquired of your intentions. Make it interesting, I pray, or I shall thrust you back into that portal from which you came."
A look of shock passed quickly through the woman's eyes, and she smirked at the curt response. "Very well, I have been sent by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to extend an invitation. You are to come with me. It would be wise to consider accepting it."
"Is it now?" Belen sneered, knowing that such an invitation could only lead to one thing.
She needn't see through her mirrors to know that they sensed her power, and would try to carve a piece of it for themselves. Her time in Saggrel taught her much, and she would not fall for the same trick again. She, after all, had her own reasons allying with Cintra at the moment, and they would come first. "Tell your masters that I, Lady Belen, will consider their invitation and will come at my leisure. Tell them that while they bicker and squabble like children, I am working hard to prepare this world for the coming apocalypse. And when I come to answer their summons, they'd better not waste my time. Now begone."
Grache stared at her and blinked twice, astonished at how brief the meeting was.
"Did I stutter, girl?"
The sorceress of the Brotherhood bowed curtly and departed the way she came, leaving Belen to attend to her mirrors.
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