Chapter V – The War Room

When Avice rested her eyes on the great Blackstone Fortress, it seemed as though the world collapsed around her. Even though this day was meant to be a joyous day—after all, she was going to be meeting with one of the most powerful warlords throughout the regions—the young Warden could not help feel anything but despair as she soaked in that sight.

The fortress was expansive, and it oozed a feeling of dread that would make any who opposed its mighty walls cower in fear. A wide lava moat surrounded the front walls, the scorching liquid emanating from the pinnacle of Mount Ignis. As the gate lowered for Ademar and Avice, a group of twenty Knights exited the entrance in a formation and escorted them throughout the expansive courtyards.

As Avice sat atop her horse that was being guided by a young fellow who was perhaps too young to be here within these walls, she took note of her surroundings. It was what one would expect from a legion: rows of Knights doing drills, drunken soldiers laughing, and the odd brawl between anywhere from two to ten men. Her eyes finally landed on a body hung from a noose. She could tell that the figure was a Samurai from his clothes, which was strange since, to her knowledge, the Knights had a relatively good relationship with the Myre at this moment in time.

As the pair of Blackstone Wardens reached the large wooden door that led deeper into the Blackstone Fortress, they had their horses taken away to the stables that rested on the far side of the courtyard close to the wall. Avice followed Ademar through the dimly lit stone brick hallways, her mind still wondering what felt off about the place.

"That way." Ademar motioned towards a short hallway that split off from the one that they were currently in. It led about ten feet down, and it ended with an arched wooden door. "Go down there and wait, she'll be with you soon."

Avice nodded, turning on her heel to face the door. And by the time that she reached the heavy wooden entranceway, Ademar had already vanished down the hallway, leaving her all by her lonesome. As she entered the room, she looked around it.

The room was composed of blank walls with no windows. There were exactly ten torches that stood atop tall stands, being dotted around the large room in such a way that it lit up almost everything. In the center of the room, there was a long table with seven chairs—one at the head with three on the adjacent side. A three-dimensional map of the three regions was built in the center of the table, giving Avice the impression that this was a war room.

Avice walked around the edge of the table and sat in the corner seat. Just in that moment, the only door swung open, and a hooded figure clad in black cloth and black iron armor with a crown entered. As soon as he entered, his eyes landed on the woman that was sitting. As he stood there in the entranceway, he raised an eyebrow before crossing his arms.

"Who are you?" He questioned, his voice resembling something like a serpent except perhaps even a snake had more tact. Still, it probably was not proper for Avice to judge someone simply by their voice.

"I am Lady Avice Esclair, Warden of the Blackstone Legion." She told the man with a hint of confidence. "I was called here by Apollyon, and I was escorted to this room by Ademar."

"Ah, I was told that there might be someone joining us." He mentioned, his voice notably relaxing. He crossed his arms and let out a hefty sigh. "I am Vortiger."

Avice stood from her seat and smiled his way, offering him an armored hand. His head moved slightly down so that he could peer at her hand. He shifted on his feet, but he still kept his arms locked, refusing to uncross them to shake her hand.

"I've heard of your name—mighty and fierce." Avice complimented, returning her hand back to her side. Vortiger stepped further into the room, walking over to the opposite side of the table to take his seat.

"Many have." He told as he sat down in one of the six vacant chairs. "What is it that Apollyon wants you here for?"

"I do not even know why I am here." She responded, sitting back down in her own seat. "Yet, if Apollyon calls for me, then I shall respond."

"That would be the wise thing to do, yes." Vortiger said, nodding slightly as he did so. "I've lost many good fighters to disobedience. Then again, perhaps they weren't good fighters after all."

"Perhaps not." Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal the forms of Holden Cross and Ademar. The Warden swiftly and silently approached Avice, sitting next to her. Cross took his time, surveying the three figures in front of him. His eyes scrutinized the newcomer's form.

"Sit up." He instructed, motioning towards Avice's lax posture. "We're not beasts here."

Avice immediately did so, sitting up straight. She could feel herself start to heat up with anxiety. Perhaps it was the wrong choice to come here. Besides, she still could not fathom why Apollyon chose her over her superior Devo Forge. Still, she must be here for a reason.

Cross walked around the table to sit at the head of the table's right-hand side. Even after he had taken his seat, the Lawbringer's eyes were glued onto Avice, but she did not dare check to see if that was true. Soon after, the door to the room swung open a last time, and in walked an infamous figure: Apollyon.

Dahlia looked to the sky, her mind wondering what in the hell she was doing. Right now, she was sitting on a brown horse in the middle of the Myre waiting for the rest of her patrol to show up. Her hands let go of her horse's reins as she flung her head down to look at the animal's head. She patted its neck and sighed.

What the fuck am I doing here, Adelaide? The Peacekeeper whispered to her horse in her mind, even though it was more of a question for herself. She had been part of the Blackstone Legion for a few years now, and she had seen some of the many changes that the legion as a whole and its members had gone through.

And it was over the years that Dahlia had grown her doubts. Still, she kept her head down and went along with the orders that she received. She had a problem with self-confidence, and she even knew it. It was this problem that kept her from speaking up for her beliefs. After all, it was more likely that she was wrong rather than she was right… right?

The young woman's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of horses in mud. She looked down the muddied road at two horses walking side by side. Atop these horses, her patrol mates sat. One, a Warden, was female with short blonde hair and blue eyes that could pierce even the hardest of exteriors, and a Conqueror, who was no doubt sent here to die for his crimes against the Blackstone Legion.

"Dahlia!" Spoke the Warden, Henriette, from atop her brown horse. "Sorry we're a little late; we ran into a few cunts trying to thieve from the markets near Chīsana Ki."

"You know we're not supposed to dole out justice in the Myre." Dahlia responded, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow as she did so. "That's what the Samurai are for."

"Perhaps, but can you really leave justice to the goddamned Samurai?" She shot back. "You can barely trust them with bread as has been made clear back there."

Dahlia rolled her light brown eyes before resting them on the silent observer, Peter. He was built strong and tall with a million-dollar smile, which he showed off regularly. She would converse with him if he was not a mute. In fact, she even remembered the day he lost it to a Shaman. He could tell many stories about his adventures if he had his voice still, but those days were gone and now were the days for silence.

The Peacekeeper turned her horse away from her patrol mates towards the depths of the Myre. She motioned in the general northeast direction. Keeping her eyes glued on that direction, she spoke up with instruction.

"We have a mission from Janus Tyro." Janus Tyro. He was an old friend… emphasis on the was. They grew up together, and many would consider them inseparable. In fact, they were for the most part. That was until he ran off, following his dream of becoming a Warden, which to his credit, he achieved. Still, after all those years, he seemed to change for the worse.

"What mission?" Henriette asked after Dahlia seemed to wander off. The Peacekeeper blinked a few times before finally coming back to the real world from her memories.

"He wants us to go all the way to Yamashiro." She finally responded. "He needs us to pick something up. What is it? I don't know; however, Janus says that we don't need to know."

Dahlia retrieved a map from the side of her horse. She unrolled it and pointed to a certain point on it. Henriette and Peter both walked their respective horses closer to the map for a better look.

"That's where it is." Dahlia looked up to the sky. It was already midday; they were quickly losing daylight. "We need to head out… now."

Her patrol mates nodded and began to ride their horses down the long path that was ahead. It was odd. Normally, Dahlia would never be the one to take lead on a mission, especially one as, presumably, important as this. However, this time, she felt rather comfortable because she was surrounded by two people she knew deeply and had grown a bond with.

Henriette and Dahlia met when they were at the Stygian Fortress, which was the place that trained the newest and best soldiers for the Blackstone Legion. It was strange because they were so vastly different. Henriette enjoyed going in loud and all the chaos that came because of it; Dahlia, on the other hand, enjoyed the complete opposite, which was the silent and patient approach.

Peter, however, was different. Peter and Dahlia first met when he was getting transferred to Ater Prison from another. Strangely for a prisoner, he was friendly and nonthreatening to her when she met him in chains near her old home, Castle Thorn. They grew close years after when he was forced to join the Blackstone Legion as a Conqueror for his freedom.

Dahlia could not have asked for better patrol mates to do this mission with, and that was partly why she felt more comfortable taking the lead on this one. As she rode down the muddy road in the Myre, she could not help but reminisce upon her life—the good and the bad.

YEARS BEFORE…

"I can't do this!" The young woman screamed weakly. She was exhausted and defeated. All willpower had left her body long before she started the twenty-mile trek.

"You have to!" A balding man clad in heavy armor yelled at her from atop a black horse. The pair were on the side of Mount Ignis, although only one was feeling the burning pain of her training. The man crossed his arms and tilted his head at the woman as she could barely hold herself on her feet.

The woman had already traveled nonstop for two days from the Myre. She was on the last leg of the trip. In fact, the top of Mount Ignis was the finish line. If she could persevere for only a few more hours, the pain and suffering of the intense journey would be over. Yet, it seemed as though she could not make it. And when she collapsed onto the muddied ground, it felt as though carrying on would mean death.

"Get up, you coward!" The armored man shouted down at her, spitting on her. "Get up now!"

The man leaned down from his horse and grabbed a small stone. He clutched it tightly before hurling it at her, striking her side with it. The woman let out an audible grunt before she cried out, tears streaming down her filthy face.

"Please…" She could barely make it out, her voice barren and gone almost completely. "Please… make it stop."

"It'll stop, when you reach the tip of that fucking mountain." He responded, jumping from his horse. He crouched down beside her still crying form. His eyes narrowed at her. Contrary to what many would think at the sight, he was not actually angry or filled with hatred; instead, he was filled with the need for her to reach the top, for if she could indeed do it, she would finally be broken. And when the woman would finally be broken, she could be fixed.

The woman weakly pushed herself up from the muddied path and crawled up the mountain on all fours with the man walked just beside her, screaming expletives at her almost the entire way. As she pulled herself over a small ridge, her teary eyes narrowed onto her goal: a tent with a soft bed, a fire with a warm glow, and a table almost overflowing with food and wine. The woman could just about feel energy return to her exhausted body as she laid her eyes on these things.

The trainee stood to her feet and feebly walked over, dragging her feet. When she reached the table, a smile appeared not only on her face but also the face of the man who walked beside her.

"You've made it." He said, smiling a rotten smile. His voice much lower and softer than before, he motioned to the bed and food. "Eat and sleep till your heart's content. You deserve it."

The woman was out of breath enough that all she could give was a broken smile. She reached for a piece of bread—the first of many other food items that she would eat that night. The man stood there, watching her eat for a few moments before calling his horse.

"When you are finished here, return to the Stygian Fortress." He commanded as he pulled himself onto his horse. After shifting in his saddle, he turned the animal—and by extension, himself—to face her. "Enjoy yourself; you've done well."

Once again, all she could do was smile at him, receiving one last smile in return. The moon rose in the distance as night began to settle on the landscapes, and after the woman had her fill of mead, venison, and bread, she staggered to the small tent, falling into the bed's warm embrace, not even bothering to remove what little armor she had on.

Apollyon's eyes scrutinized each figure that was sitting at the map table in the small war room. She knew each of them, save for one, very deeply. She'd trust her life with them, but perhaps that was the problem. She this trust might bite her in the ass later on, but as it was now, she needed them.

"Most of you are here because I trust you fully." The warlord's eyes landed on a Warden—Avice. "Others because I need to trust you fully."

"What is it that you have called us here for, master?" Spoke up Vortiger, his voice slightly less serpent-like when addressing his superior.

"The Imperial family has started to become quite the nuisance for me." Apollyon mentioned as she walked around the table to her seat, even though she stood in front of it, not sitting. "They believe that they have freedom."

She leaned on the table as she spoke, her leather-covered palms being pressed against the cool surface. Her eyes narrowed on the Imperial City of Koto that rested towards the far Eastern corner of the war map.

"We can't stand for that." She whispered to herself as she thought about what she should do next. The room fell silent for just under a minute before Apollyon continued, breaking the silence. "Cross…"

The Lawbringer sat up even straighter than before if that was possible. He moved his head slightly to look at his master, but he kept his body still.

"You and Ademar will lead an assault from behind with a battalion. Take this one; show her how to lead." Apollyon motioned towards Avice, but she did not bother looking at her subordinate. "Me and Vortiger will lead a frontal assault against the city. Hopefully, that will distract them for long enough while you crush their precious royal family."

"Last time, this did not work, and we had to execute the one who fucked it all up." Vortiger mentioned dryly with a hint of sarcasm.

"You executed him did you not?" Apollyon asked redundantly, looking up to face him with her ghastly helmet. The Black Prior went silent, prompting the warlord to continue. "We shall go over the finer details in due time, but for now, I need to tend to some business."

She looked squarely at Holden before continuing: "Prepare a force before a week passes."

He nodded in response, standing and motioning for Ademar to follow before they had left the room. Vortiger watched them leave, rolling his eyes before resting them back on Avice, who shifted uncomfortably in the wooden seat.

"You're dismissed." Apollyon finally allowed them to leave as she sat back into her stone, throne-like chair. Avice immediately stood and exited the room. As she stood out there in the hall, she felt like she could finally allow herself to breath. In that room, it felt as though the walls were closing around her; it was safe to say that she was not very accustomed to being with some of the most powerful people across the regions.

The Warden turned on her heel, stumbling back as she did so, for she was greeted by the tall, armored figure of Holden Cross. His brown eyes looked down at her with a hint of annoyance.

"Don't fuck this up for me, Warden." He spat. "Last time I trusted one of you, he stabbed me in the back, and I was forced to behead the bastard."

"I-I promise I won't!" Avice stuttered out, weakly assuring the man. Her heart was beating quickly, and she could feel sweat begin to form at the tip of her forehead.

"You better not." He whispered. He clenched his hands and turned on his heel before walking down the hall away from her, leaving Avice alone and afraid in the dimly lit halls of the Blackstone Fortress.

This was nothing like how she imagined the superiors of the Blackstone Legion. They acted hateful and dishonest, but she tried to brush it off. Hopefully, this was the product of running one of the largest, most powerful legions in Ashfeld. Hopefully, she did not choose the wrong one. Hopefully…

Happy Turkey Day if you celebrate it.