"Arch forward your back a little sir," requested the artisan. The Prince shifted slightly in the room, new accommodations booked by Nahbob that thankfully had not been attacked by bandits or Asura, but it was not to the liking of the painter.
Javindar was unclear about the concept, but after a slight translation by Nahbob, the Prince grudgingly complied and lowered his shoulders like an old man.
"This is an unnatural stance for me," grumbled Javindar. "I should be standing tall and straight. I should be projecting power, not weakness."
Nahbob sighed. "I agree, but this is what you wanted is it not sir?"
"I wanted a picture to capture the moment of my greatest defeat, not a caricature of me as a hunchback," grumbled Javindar.
Nahob took a moment to study the work the artist had completed so far and nodded. "It's not that bad, this man is quite talented. I believe he has captured your weakness in all its 'glory'. "
The artisan frowned at the comment. He threw up his arms and cursed at Nahbob before leaving the room, in a tiff.
"He needs a break. That last comment threw him off, unsettled him, I'm afraid," shrugged Nahbob. "Artists."
Javindar cared not for the concerns of artisans.
Javindar was too devastated to care.
It had been a day since the Asura Lord Pasurendra had captured Baroness Stille, and he was like a war Kaylon without a rudder, dead in the water. He had recounted the attack to both the civilian authorities as well as the magicians at the university. They both seemed genuinely concerned about the situation, perhaps the Baroness was not putting on airs after all, but neither had any success in either locating or rescuing her. He even showed them the cloth with the kidnapper's cryptic demands, but no one knew to whom this 'James' or his blade referred to, though one minor officer did mention a rogue that was under her employ many years ago that went by that handle. He was currently residing north on the other side of the Grommish empire. As for Ulfgar, he was known to the authorities as a dangerous lunatic with a dangerous warband at his command, but his whereabouts were currently unknown as well. Even the fallen sharkman and the woman with the winged rooster helmet could provide no information even under the scrutiny of magics and threat of torture, before they were thrown into the local oubliette for further interrogation.
Leaving Javindar with no foes before him, no enemies to fight, just the knowledge of his own defeat.
He had never felt so low, so defeated.
Sure, he had suffered losses in the past, but they were trivial, or at least recoverable.
As a young boy, he was often praised for his skill with the bow. Whenever the Sultan of Ghata would visit his neighbors, young Javindar would be in his father's entourage and he would amuse his hosts with his unerring aim. The young prince would win against all comers, garnering him a reputation that was unblemished until the Nashput grand athletic competition hosted by Sardar Milan five years ago. Javindar was heavily favored but an unnatural breeze fouled his last shot, allowing Prince Vleda of the Khanians to win. Javindar recalled his ill response to that event. He shamed himself when he blamed magic as the cause of his missed shot, but the Mystics supervising the competition said no such spell was involved. He would have lost great honour save that Nahbob took the blame for posing the initial question at the loss.
The young Prince thought he had fallen the lowest during that incident but he was wrong.
Later when Javindar was commissioned his first command, he led a column of troops against raiders from the Titan mountains. After defeating the raiders handily in their first few skirmishes, the Prince opted to pursue them against his adjutant's advice. They didn't make it past the foothills before tribesman ambushed them, killing two hundred of Ghata's finest. The loss almost crippled Javindar's confidence in himself, let alone the confidence his men had in him. He already saw his young military career in shambles, and Nahbob was urging him to retreat before he suffered more losses. Javindar was already considering that path, but because Nahbob had suggested it, the optics of the situation demanded that he stayed. He was still a Prince, and was not subject to the whims of his subjects. Incensed by his failure to retreat the tribesman attacked again, not hundreds this time but thousands.
Javindar and his forces would have been wiped off the map, but a border patrol of Nashputians caught sight of the battle and intervened. Caught between hammer and anvil, the numerically superior but poorly trained raiders panicked, and were crushed and routed in a running battle that lasted all day. What started as a military disaster became what was to be the first of a string of stunning victories for the Prince, including the defeat of the Asura army at the foot of the Holy Temple recently.
While his previous defeats were humbling, they were nothing compared to what he faced now. His holy quest had failed. Holy Sampada was either captured or dead. He had also discovered Holy Sampada was also the annoying, but still bewitching giraffe woman he had been travelling with, and had been purposely deceiving him all this time. That portion of his adventure was still confusing and he still hadn't sorted it out in his mind. Holy Sampada's peer, Baroness Stille, possibly the only person that could either track his missing fiancé with her magic was recently captured by the Asura, and the only lead that he had was that a person named James was to be told of some meeting. Stille was under his protection at the time, but that was trivial compared to the list of his other recent defeats.
It was all just too much for Javindar. While he certainly faced his share of adversity in the past, he had no direction for his next course of action. He simply had failed, and in doing so he might have doomed all of Ghata, Vinraj, and possibly the whole world in the process if Stille's prophecies were to be believed.
"Perhaps we could find Whelp, err Holy Sampada ourselves," suggested Nahbob. "We could sail the Golden Eagle back to the Sea of Dawn and perhaps…"
Javindar had waved off his foolish servant's suggestion. He would have struck him, but he simply did not feel like it. "You are not a sailor, so I will forgive your ill-advised plan. The ocean is vast, and we would never locate that island again, especially when it was clouded in those magical mists. Captain Wissam might be able to find it again but its doubtful. We sailed off course to find it in the first place, and that would be akin to retracing ones step in the dark. No…I have another idea on how to proceed."
Nahbob's face lit up. "You do? You have a course of action sire?"
Javindar nodded. "Find me an artisan, either a painter or perhaps a wood cutter would do, depending on how popular their works are with the local nobility. "
"Umm….ok…ay?"
"When we have located a suitable artist I will have him produce a work of myself to capture me in this moment. I do not want one of those rabble sycophants though; I want someone to preserve the true misery and despair I find myself in now. A memento of my defeat, so I might gaze upon it and strive to better myself in the future."
Nahbob had looked confused at the request, he almost looked like he was about to protest but he simply bowed. "I will do as you ask sir."
Javindar nodded, though he knew his servant neither understood nor agreed with him. Nahbob was of a lower caste, he would not use to the ways of the nobility. Javindar knew his servant would preferred if he simply panic and chased any random leads. Leads that both the local constabulary and the mages at the university failed to find success with. If even Admiral Edmund and the power of the Admiralty failed to aid Stille, what chance would he and his servant have in this strange foreign city. Instead he would set himself on an artistic path, to better guide his soul in this hour of trouble.
After securing a suitable artist, a painter who specialized in oil and canvas, they set upon their task to capture Javindar in his moment of weakness, in his time of defeat.
While Javindar had posed for portraits and sculptures before, both due to his station and his often praised handsome features, this studio session had proven to be a most tedious and draining affair.
As the artisan left the room to refocus his energies. Javindar's mind wandered. He considered his current situation and how he could have avoided it.
To begin with he should have treated Holy Sampada, even the fake one, with more respect. Perhaps she maintained her deception because she simply did not trust him. Not surprising considering he treated her more as an object or a prize during all their years of courtship than his future first wife. He also thought it was bad form that he considered making Whelp his second wife, even before he secured his first wife, though he wondered if the fact they were the same person was an actual point of contention.
On the island perhaps he should have taken a more proactive role when dealing with those Khanians. He was a Bey of Ghata, one of the most feared warriors in the realm. Was he not a master tactician? Why was he letting Whelp dictate the battle? He should have been the one placed at risk, he should have been lost on that island not her. He wasn't sure if he could have convinced Whelp of his plan, but he certainly didn't try to dissuade her. Despite his respect for her, he simply saw her as the hired help.
As for his recent defeat by one of Taraksun's generals, he was humbled by the fact he was powerless to resist the creature's time stopping magic. He did not know there were magics that powerful. If the creature could literally stop time, why didn't it kill him? Was he that insignificant, or were there limits to that particular spell's power?
Besides his failures, Javindar pondered on how to extradite themselves from this situation. Could he possibly catch these demons? Would he have to find this mysterious James character? If so, how could he do so if the local guards and magicians have failed.
"You look deep in thought sir," interrupted Nahbob. "Should I leave the room?"
Javindar shook his head. "No, I'm just considering the current situation how we got here, and more importantly how we proceed."
"And your thoughts on that matter?"
"I have none. I have no idea on the out path. No course of action to take…"
Javindar stopped mid sentence, he felt a choking dread around him. A miasma of evil, a literal stench of the profane. As a Holy warrior of Puranas, Javindar could concentrate his senses and detect evil. It was simple enough. His holy sight could even differentiate the levels of evil, from murderers, to evil clerics, and evil Asuras and demons. While it required his concentration to perceive the proximity of such presences, his heightened senses were so attuned by now that the general aura of evil often leaked into the background.
It was hard to describe, except it was akin to rotten fish. An overpowering scent that could be perceived by his other senses. Though most of the time it was very faint, since sadly evil was almost everywhere in society, there were other times that it was quite tangible. A sudden attack like the one that Golden Destroyer initiated was too fast to be detected. Often it would have to be in the area for quite awhile, like an evil temple or a site of a grisly murder. A dark sense that could not be ignore, especially by one such as Javindar.
Disturbed by the dark cloud, Javindar attuned his other senses and activated his holy sight. He saw that there was indeed a dark presence, mostly demonic in the area, but not in his room nor even in his hotel. Without a word, he walked towards the window and saw dark auras shifting in and out of the crowd below him.
"Something in the crowd sir?"
"Yes. No. I'm not sure actually," responded Javindar. "I detect demons, but not major ones. Roughly half a dozen, though it is hard to keep count since they keep shifting in and out of the crowd."
"Are they invisible?"
"I think not. They just seem to easily blend into them, while avoiding bumping or pushing anyone around. Like a flowing darkness."
"Should I prepare wards, or do you wish to face them?"
"No. They aren't after us. Or at least I think not. They are after something though. They move as if they were hounds with quarry nearby."
"Should I send word to the local constabulary….or do you wish to take a more personal interest in this?"
Javindar knew it wasn't his fight. This was not his city, and these were not his people, but he was still a Holy Warrior of Puranas. While his quest took precedent, his duty was to slay Asura. He could take Nahbob's suggestion. He still didn't trust the city's guards, but they would have a better idea how to pursue this creatures.
There was his picture though. The artist would return soon. While it was customary not to look at his work until finished, Javindar glanced at the picture and blanched. It consisted of two horizontal red bars, flanking a black bar, with something resembling an arched bridge.
"Do you like it sir? It's a masterful piece of impressionism. I think it's a wonderful representation of your internal pain surrounded by …."
Javindar tuned out his explanation. "I think I'll investigate this myself. Besides, I need to stretch my legs a bit," he said, shuddering as he glanced at the picture again.