"He's about to complete the greatest trick a liar ever played on history.
His truth will be the truth.
But only if we lives, and we die."
Captain John Price.
…
…
The eighth day of the Silver Pentecostal arrived. It was the holiest day of the holiday, one that was supposed to celebrate a great victory wrought by Brimir. It was a day of revelry and laughter, where men from across Helgekinia would dance and sing.
But in the war headquarters of the Tristanian forces in Albion, a Princess was kneeling in front of an idol of Brimir. She was dressed in black and silently prayed, her hands clasping a worn Holy Book of Brimir. While she did so, she heard a knock on the entrance to the main room.
"It is open."
She spoke those words without breaking her prayer or even opening her eyes, but she heard the door open and a pair of footsteps walk in. They stopped some distance behind her and waited for her to finish her prayers to Brimir. Eventually she finished and closed her book, before standing and looking at the person who had entered.
"What is it, Napoleon?"
The Emperor shrugged his shoulders at those words.
"Nothing. I decided to head to these headquarters for now. I already talked with the soldiers earlier this morning, and none of the other generals have been here ever since I informed them of my partner's departure a week ago. Even if there is no fighting, there's plenty of daily preparation to be doing that has been neglected over the truce."
Even while wearing clothes of mourning, the Princess couldn't help but giggle.
"You really are earnest, Napoleon. Always moving up and forth, chatting with all the soldiers. I'll say that they've probably seen more of you then they have of me."
"It's good to be noticed by the men. They're more willing to fight for someone they're truly loyal to. That said, their loyalty will always be towards you, Princess."
"Thank you very much."
Henrietta curtsied in response to that compliment, but then silence again took hold between the two. She then asked the question that really mattered to her.
"Do you know when Louise will return?"
"You know she left eight days ago. I had her promise she would be back before the truce ended. We will still need her."
Henrietta groaned at those words.
"Why, Napoleon? I know Cattleya from my childhood days with Louise. She was a wonderful girl, and Louise truly did love her. She needs to be there for as long as possible if Cattleya really is that ill."
"It's a war, Princess. You know that."
"Still…"
She sighed as she thought about her dear friend, and how worried Louise must be right now. But she nodded.
"Fine. I don't think Albion will attack yet anyways. I can't say they won't break the truce, but wouldn't they do it at the end?"
Napoleon shrugged at those words.
"Who knows? But besides, Princess, I just wanted to say that you've done a very good job in this war. Keeping the various groups under you in line, ensuring discipline, having this invasion continue without any problems. You truly have done well so far in your reign."
"What are you saying?" Henrietta laughed. "I'll get better yet. I'm still young, Napoleon. I have a ways to go until I become a truly just princess."
Napoleon chuckled in response to those words, but then the tone of Henrietta's voice changed.
"Napoleon, I do have something I would like to ask you."
"What is it?"
Henrietta noticeably hesitated for a few moments, and Napoleon could see that she was struggling on the proper words. However, they finally spilled out.
"The nobles at home are telling me that since I am at war, I should proclaim an heir. I'm sure you've heard by now, but my mother's incredibly ill. She can't be expected to run the country, but I'm the last of my bloodline left. I have no direct siblings. To tell the truth, I've had very few friends. If something happens to me, then we don't really know who will hold power.
But Louise is a friend. And she is a scion of one of the most prestigious noble families, the Vallieres. I'm thinking of officially making her my heir, making her the ruler of Tristain. What do you think?"
She noticed that Napoleon's expression went instantly blank, concealing all of his internal thoughts. But after staring at the ground in deep thought for a few moments, he responded.
"If just a Valliere, why Louise? The Duchess is capable in her own right."
Henrietta shook her head.
"Duchess Karin would make a good ruler. But the fact is that picking a Valliere isn't something without risk. They're one of the most powerful noble families and have a good relation with the Royal Family, but because of that power, there are a lot of families whom are suspicious and scared of them. Picking Karin would just confirm those fears, which is something most of those nobles would ever accept. They would be more pliable with a younger, more inexperienced person, one whom wouldn't be as likely to turn Tristania into a Valliere fiefdom as they fear."
"Hmmmmm."
Napoleon stroked his hand against his chin, and then the stony blank expression broke into a grin.
"I am impressed, Henrietta. You really have thought about this decision thoroughly."
"It's what a sovereign is supposed to do, right? Picking the person who will succeed her is one of the most important things we do. But Napoleon, you have been closer with my friend than anyone else for a long time. You're her partner. What would you think if she was to be my heir?"
"It is her decision. But I would have no problems with it."
It was phrased with honesty and clarity, and Henrietta nodded.
"I'm glad to hear that. I'll probably announce it to everyone in a few days, right before the truce ends. But tonight, I and the generals will be attending services at the most magnificent temple in Saxe-Gotha, in the middle of the town. Napoleon, you should come and worship Brimir. You could understand the power which Brimir wields."
"I'm afraid I must decline."
She sighed with disappointment, and then gazed around the headquarters. So many generals and nobles had come here regularly, but it was still such a drab place. No decorations, a few Tristanian flags, and tons and tons of reports and papers.
"Well, without Louise, what are you doing tonight then?"
"Planning."
Henrietta blinked with surprise at those words.
"There's still a war going on. Even if we're not fighting, we can prepare so that the attack the minute the truce ends is better."
Napoleon finished speaking and then walked past Henrietta, to a stack of papers lying on a nearby table.
"Letters and notices are always waiting to be read, Princess. You can go. I'll deal with this."
"Thank you, Napoleon."
The Princess once again curtsied at the fellow monarch, and then made for the exit. But she was then stopped by a shout from Napoleon.
"Princess!"
She turned around and looked at him. Napoleon was holding a letter, not looking at Henrietta in the eye.
"Thank you. For everything."
Henrietta nodded in acknowledgment.
"The same to you, Napoleon. I'd like to thank you for everything, for saving my country at La Rochelle. I promise, after this war is over, I'd like to do something for both you and Louise."
And with those words, she opened the door and strode out. Napoleon gazed at the direction she went, and then pulled out a chair. Sitting down on it, he began to write.
…
"Are you sure this will work, Sheffield?"
Cromwell couldn't help but nervously ask. The two had snuck out of the city, and were now walking along a mountain path in the middle of the night. A shadow moved, and Cromwell couldn't help but jump. Sheffield hit him across the head.
"Stop sniveling, Cromwell. It's unbecoming of a ruler."
"Y-yes, Sheffield."
"And as for your question. What if it doesn't? If it doesn't, Cromwell, you're doomed. You, I mean we, have about twenty thousand men, and a large proportion of your army consists of new soldiers, with barely any proper recruiting and training. Tristain has about thirty-five thousand men right now in Saxe-Gotha. They are all proper soldiers to a man. You will lose sooner or later, even if you are on the defensive.
So trust me, Cromwell. This plan will work. You have travelled on this mountain path before, have you not?"
The former priest bobbed his head up and down repeatedly.
"It's a path I walked along to deal with my flock in the past. There's a river which leads to Saxe-Gotha about a half-mile to the west. That's what you need, right?"
"Yes. Let me ask you, Cromwell, this Ring of Andvari, what can you do with it?"
The priest hesitated for a moment before answering such a simple question.
"It revives the dead with Void Magic, right?"
"Not exactly. This is a Ring which uses the Ancient magic of Water. This means that it can be used for other purposes."
Sheffield glanced over at Cromwell, a cruel smile lighting her face.
"But I want to confirm with you. The remaining Albion forces are ready?"
"Yes. I've appointed a new commander at last, General Hawkins. They've already been marching for most of the day."
"Excellent. We will finish this war then once and for all. We will unite Helgekinia completely under your rule, Cromwell. I promise you that."
The two marched to the nearby river, and Sheffield took the ring and knelt down. Cromwell could see a light shine on her forehead, but he did not dare to ask what it was. Instead, he focused his gaze to the ring. After a few moments of the light shining, the ring melted. The leader of Albion gasped as the remains of the Ring dripped into the river.
Sheffield stood up at last, and then looked at Cromwell. She cut him off before he could say the obvious question.
"Do not worry about the ring, Cromwell. This will ensure our victory. I'm sure you know sacrifices must be made in wartime, right?"
…
The temple bells chimed as Henrietta walked in the magnificent building. Wales and Agnes followed her, and the rest of the generals accompanied them. One or two staggered slightly from drink, but they still marched on.
The eighth day of the Silver Pentecostal represented a day of celebration for the victory Brimir had won. But the ninth day was a day of repentance and mourning, both for the losses which had been taken on that day as well as for the sins which each person in Helgekinia had committed over the year. To pray at the largest temple in Saxe-Gotha the minute the ninth day began was truly a mark of holiness, and so they all went.
A pair of Tristanian guards at the church opened the doors, and the group walked in. But the church appeared to be empty, save for one person who was sitting on a bench by the door. Henrietta took a few steps forward in confusion.
"Where is the priest?" She wondered aloud.
"The priest is currently in the back of the room. There was a person who was gravely injured, and he is tending to him right now."
It was the person on the bench who spoke. He wore a hood over his face. All the same, Henrietta felt that she had heard that voice somewhere before.
Shaking off her thoughts, she moved forward with the rest of her group. Henrietta, Wales, and Agnes sat in the first row, while the generals took their seats directly behind them. Opening the worn book, Henrietta began to cite a prayer.
"Verily We have granted thee a manifest Victory
That Brimir may forgive thee thy faults of the past and those to follow, and guide Thee on the Proper Way;
It is He Who sent down tranquility into the hearts of the Believers, that they may add faith to their faith; for to all belong the Forces of the heavens and the earth; and Brimir is Full of Knowledge and Wisdom.
In order that ye may believe in Brimir and that ye may assist and honor Him, and celebrate His praise morning and evening."
BOOM. BOOM.
Henrietta would have continued, but then she could hear explosions. And the sound wasn't that particularly far away.
"What was that?" Henrietta asked.
With a confused expression at his face, Wimpffen pointed at the guards.
"You two. Get out there and see what's going on."
The pair saluted and left. Unsure of what to do, the group milled about. Henrietta looked at the book and tried to pray, but for some reasons, the words wouldn't come out. She couldn't suppress a massive feeling of unease that had appeared within her the minute she had heard those noises. The fact that the explosions were followed by other noises which she could not recognize did not help.
"It's an attack!"
One guard ran back, but only one. His helmet had been knocked off.
"Albion's launched a surprise attack. They're already incredibly close to the church! We need to get out of here!"
"What?"
The generals were completely unable to conceal their shock, and Henrietta rounded on De Poitiers.
"How did they get into the city already without us knowing? What happened to the sentries? The scouts?"
"Y-Your Majesty…"
There was a moment of silence in the church, only interrupted by the screams and sounds of battle outside. But Henrietta's face grew far paler, and she grabbed the collar of her most prestigious general.
"General De Poitiers. Please tell me that you have not neglected even the most basic modes of army preparation over the course of this truce."
"I-I planned to get to work after this holy day…"
An embarrassed silence filled the temple after his confession.
"Forget it."
With an expression of total irritation, Henrietta let go of De Poitiers, and the general stumbled onto the ground. He picked himself up and dusted off his coat.
"Anyways, Your Majesty, it's too dangerous here! We need to retreat to the military headquarters and figure out what to do, now!"
Without any further words, De Poitiers dashed off, and after a moment of watching him run, the rest of the group followed him. De Poitiers ran through the doorway, and waited in front of them in the outer courtyard, waving them forward.
But right when the first general reached the threshold, he was violently thrown back into the church by an invisible force.
"A barrier?"
A strong wall of wind blocked the entrance. One of the other generals, after a moment's hesitation, attempted to charge past it. He was thrown back with the same force as the first general.
"What's going on? How did it get put up like this all of a sudden?"
Wimpffen looked around in confusion, and then his eyes fell on the hooded man who was now sitting next to the group huddled around the door. He had not moved in the slightest ever since the noise and fighting had begun. Suspicious, Wimpffen drew his wand and marched towards him.
"Hey, who are you? Do you know something about this? Get rid of that cloak anyways, you-"
STAB
It was over before it began. The hooded man had been a holding a wand in his left hand, and he expertly stabbed Wimpffen in the neck. Blood spilling out, the Chief of Staff clawed at his throat before collapsing to the ground.
"Wimpffen!"
"Stay back!"
Henrietta and the generals dashed towards their fallen comrade, but Agnes had shouted a warning, drawing out a pair of pistols. The man who had killed Wimpffen had jumped back a couple rows, his hood falling off of his face. The right side of his face was completely unrecognizable, but the left side was that of someone whom every member here knew.
"Wardes. Is that wall your spell?"
The former Knight-Captain bowed with a flourish.
"A pleasure to meet you, Princess Henrietta. It's good to see that you have been healthy throughout this conquest. Well, for now. But now my master has deemed that you must be put out of the way."
"Your master won't win, Wardes. Cromwell will lose no matter what cowardly tactics he uses, as Brimir is on our side. Surrender and I do promise to treat you well."
Wardes gave a sardonic smile, holding the wand in his left hand and pointing one finger at Henrietta.
"When did I say Cromwell was my master?"
"Huh?"
"It doesn't matter. You won't live long enough to know what I'm talking about anyways."
He still gave off that sarcastic grin. The generals pulled out their wands, but stopped. Henrietta stepped forward with her staff out. She gave off a killing aura which was incredibly palpable and dwarfed the small one that she had given Napoleon and De Poitiers during their fight.
"A traitor is front of me. Someone who threatens to kill me, kill all of us including the one I love. And he is the only one between me and escape. I will kill you, Wardes."
She raised her staff, but then stopped. Wardes didn't seem the least bit perturbed either by the words she said or by the Princess's anger. Instead, he once again pointed his finger.
"Tsk, tsk, Henrietta. Rage doesn't let you think carefully about your surroundings."
"What are you talking about?"
"Well, we are in a temple."
Henrietta's eyes widened in shock at those words, and Wardes continued.
"I know your specialty, Henrietta. You can combine wind and water magic to create a powerful tornado. But what will happen to this temple if you use it? And what will the residents of Saxe-Gotha think if you destroy their greatest temple?"
Henrietta ground her teeth at the realization, but then a shot was fired. Wardes ducked and jumped back a few rows. Behind her, Agnes threw away the pistol which she had just used, and pulled out a sword.
"There is no need for you to fight, Your Majesty. I will take care of this traitor."
Wardes now stood in front of the altar. As Henrietta stepped back and Agnes took her place, he bowed.
"Well met, then, dog of a failed country. It doesn't matter. Someone who can't cast magic, a commoner, and a woman on top of that? Don't waste my time."
"You act like I've never killed a mage before, Wardes. Besides, how much magic can you use since you need to maintain that wall of wind?"
"I'm not maintaining it."
"Huh?"
Wardes shrugged his one arm.
"Or maybe I am. Who knows? It's not particularly important to you anyways. Goodbye, dog of Tristain."
He dashed forward, and Agnes met him. As the two clashed with wand and sword, Henrietta turned towards De Poitiers, who had continued to wait outside for orders.
"Get to the headquarters! Bonaparte will be there. Please, De Poitiers, for once work together and rally the necessary troops!"
Normally De Poitiers would have objected to working with the erratic Captain, but the situation was too desperate and his sovereign's plea was too sincere. Giving a quick salute, he dashed towards a horse and set off to the headquarters to the south.
…
Louise fretted about in her carriage as she continued to her family's estate. She would arrive at the mansion within a few hours, but even so she continued to fret. Why did travel have to be so slow? It shouldn't take eight days to travel across a country this small, there had to be a better way. She couldn't gain any peace of mind until she arrived and saw her sister.
She knew she hadn't been eating or sleeping well for the past few days. She had been having that dream again. Where she found herself on a ship and ended up dying from her own Void Magic. It had happened two times over the past eight days, and it continued to worry her.
It was funny, she thought. Before she summoned Napoleon, she above all was obsessed with being recognized, with being noticed by her mother and sisters and peers and everyone. She had hated herself for her powerlessness. But now here she was, with magic which as far as she knew, no one had possessed since the days of Brimir himself. And she was more worried these days than ever before.
If you had power, you had to protect and help others. That was what she had known, what she had been taught throughout her whole life. But who was she supposed to protect? Her family? Her partner? Her Princess? By visiting the side of her beloved sister, she was putting Napoleon and Henrietta in danger, and she knew that even as her partner had boasted that everything would be fine. The responsibilities which came with her power were truly terrifying, she admitted.
The carriage stopped, and after looking outside the window, she saw that she was at the last village before her mansion. The coachmen stopped by and told her that the horses needed a short rest before the last part of the journey, and she nodded in response. She decided to hop outside and walk a bit with her thoughts.
Once she stepped on the ground, she moved a small lake which was by the village, and she looked out at it. She picked up a stone and threw it into the lake and then sat there for a while.
"Ah, it's Louise! Welcome home!"
She turned around and saw an old female villager walking towards the lake carrying a basket. The villager waded into the lake, and Louise watched as she began gathering some herbs.
"So, Louise, how are you doing? What brings you back so soon?"
Louise paused for a moment in confusion before bending her head down.
"Cattleya. Cattleya is very sick, and I need to go to her and be by her side."
"Cattleya is sick? Who told you that, dear Louise?"
"What do you mean? I got a letter from Jerome."
The old lady shook her head, bending down to grab a branch.
"Dear Cattleya is fine. She came by this village just yesterday,"
"What are you talking about? I got a letter from Jerome saying she was sick!"
"But that can't be right. You probably got that letter a while ago if you went directly from your school to here. Maybe Cattleya was very sick then, but yesterday she was here. My son sold her a new bird, with very nice feathers. It clearly likes your sister very much."
She finished filling her basket, and waded out of the lake before sneezing.
"A-choo! My, my, someday that cold water will be the death of my old bones. It's good to see you, Louise, but Cattleya seems fine. You should go back to your school. I wish I could have gone when I was your age, you know."
Giving a final wave, the old lady slowly shuffled off, leaving Louise by the lake. She stood up in complete confusion.
"Is Cattleya not really sick? What should I do? Where should I go?"
After thinking about it a bit longer, Louise came to a decision.
…
"Napoleon!"
De Poitiers burst into the doors of the headquarters. Over his ride, he really had seen that the situation was far worse than he thought. An Albion surprise attack was bad enough, but the fact that Tristain forces outnumbered Albion likely meant that they could still win if they organized themselves. But it wasn't just that. Albion had used some weird magic before the attack, and so a large number of Tristan's soldiers had been enchanted towards betrayal. Some were running to join the Albion forces, while others were just fighting their own comrades right there on the street. He had run into a pair of those fake soldiers, and while he had managed to strike them down, the expression in their eyes was unsettling. It appeared as if their souls had been sucked and all that was left was a mindless husk obeying some powerful Albion mage.
But that wasn't the important thing, he thought as he ran in the room. Princess Henrietta was the priority. He had to rescue her, he had to get available soldiers to rescue Her Majesty, he had to! But as he looked around the drab encampments, he was perplexed by the sight in front of him.
Napoleon was alone at his desk. He was writing something, and only casually looked up at the heavily breathing General. But it was strange. From everything De Poitiers knew about the Captain, he should have heard about the attack. Even now, De Poitiers could hear the screams and explosions. But then Napoleon should have charged at the front and rallied his man. After all, it was how this man fought. So what was he doing?
"Captain Bonaparte, it's bad, the situation is urgent! Albion has attacked us, turned our men against us with some strange magic. And they've surrounded the church. I managed to escape, but all the generals, Wales, Her Majesty is trapped in there! We need to get to the barracks, get all the men available to rescue Her Majesty!"
Napoleon looked up at De Poitiers, and then quickly finished the letter. He folded it up, sealed it, and then clasped his hands together. But he said nothing, and this lack of reaction only served to anger De Poitiers even more. Completely frustrated, he moved forward, his hands waving in his anger.
"Do you understand me, Captain? The Princess is in danger! We need to send all available men in Saxe-Gotha to rescue her immediately! All reinforcements, everyone! Get that damn girl who's your master and hurl her there to save Her Majesty right now!"
Even as spittle flew from De Poitier's lips in his panicked rage, Napoleon seemed completely unperturbed. His left hand slipped into his coat and he leaned a bit forward. He then said two words.
"What reinforcements?"
"What?"
De Poitiers slammed his hands down on the desk and shoved his face into Napoleon's.
"The reinforcements needed to save Princess Henrietta! Have you lost your wits in this attack, Captain? Are you telling me that you never faced an attack like this! I've heard you call yourself an Emperor, but what kind of soldier doesn't fi-"
BANG
It had been now almost four months since Napoleon Bonaparte had been summoned on the fields of the Tristain Academy, when he had made his first proud declaration to a pink-haired girl. He had seen many things, travelled across the land, met many people all while working together with Louise.
And now, for the first time, he finally used the pistol which he had carried with him from his old world. Even if he hadn't used them in a long time, the Gandalfr runes worked perfectly. They grabbed the gun under his shirt, and then he effortlessly shoved the tip of the gun under De Poitier's chin before the general could react.
De Poitier's face was torn open and he died almost instantly. But even as he toppled backward in his last seconds, he was unable to conceal the expression of shock and horror at the realization that had just occurred. He landed on the ground with a thud, and after a moment's silence, Napoleon stood up, wiping the blood off of his face. But the remaining specks did not remotely hide the demonic smile that lay on his face as he stared at the fallen general.
"I can't believe it actually worked."
He had planned it, of course from the very beginning. It was a shame, he thought. He respected Henrietta. She was a good princess, who would have helped Tristain a lot. But the fact was that she was in his way, and overthrowing a princess as popular and beloved as she was would never have happened, especially since nearly all of the people under him, whether Louise, Giono, or the Guard, were still more loyal to the Princess than to him. Furthermore, while she had asked him about declaring Louise her heir, she had never made it public. But the threat of her declaring an heir had been real, and would have kept him from his desire of power. Any heir whom Henrietta would pick would almost certainly be able to leech off her legacy to gain true legitimacy.
Sure, he thought, he could have eventually become the power behind the throne to Louise if she ascended the throne. But he could have done that with Henrietta as well. He would not settle for being the leader behind the throne, he wanted the throne for himself as well.
So the Princess had to go, and it had to be before she picked or created an heir. As a result, from the minute he had landed in Albion, he had played as a spy for the Reconquista. It was because of him that the Albion army knew where Henrietta and the generals were. It was because of him that Louise was out of the way, though he was grateful that the girl loved Cattleya so much. If she had stopped to think, she would have wondered why Jerome sent the letter as opposed to the Duke or Duchess herself. But he knew that Louise probably knew the Duke or Duchess's handwriting, and thus he could never forge a letter written by them. Asking Giono to do that would have left a witness. And of course, it was because of him that Albion knew that she had gone, though he had kept the nature of the Void mage intentionally vague.
Of course, it was a reciprocal relation. Through playing spy, he had learned about the attack before anyone else in Tristain. He naturally hadn't mentioned it to the generals. But he really would have to thank them, not that he would ever get the chance. If even one of them had bothered to actually check on the headquarters or even think about the war during the course of the truce, they would have realized that someone had used their authority to move a little under 15,000 of the 35,000 Tristanian soldiers south to Rosais over the last few days. It was a shame he couldn't move more, but sending that many men to begin with without being noticed was a huge gamble. But as always, Destiny was watching over his star and he pulled that strategy off without a fuss. There were still 20,000 soldiers, but they wouldn't all have fallen prey Cromwell's magic, and if he could rally and save about eight thousand of them, he would be confident of victory.
He took the now used pistol and set it in De Poitier's hand. Then he heard footsteps approaching from the front door, and he quickly moved behind the desk. He was standing behind it, staring at the dead general, when two soldiers burst in.
"Sir Bonaparte! We heard a noise from the headquarters. What is going on?"
They quickly looked at the dead figure with a pistol in his hand, but Napoleon cut them off before they could wonder what happened.
"The general here has committed suicide as a result of his failures to properly prepare for the counterattack. As a result of his actions, I, Napoleon Bonaparte, am for the moment in command of all Tristanian forces in Albion."
He buckled his saber and put on his hat. He moved towards the entrance looked at both of them.
"Listen to me. Some of our men have already managed to escape the attack. But we need to get out there and rally and save as many of our men as we can. Soldiers, I realize you are terrified of the nature of this vicious Albion attack, but we will win this. Do you understand?"
The men had initially been panicking. They had been separated from their regiment which had disintegrated as soldiers fought one another, and had wondered on what to do. But they knew Napoleon. Everyone did. The constantly talking commander who was always talking and exhorting the troops in the camps was now in front of them. And above all, right now, these men needed a leader.
So they snapped their boots together.
"Yes, sir!"
"Good, now follow me!"
Napoleon strode, his boots clicking against the wooden floor as the men followed him out to the courtyard. And as they left, the doors swung back and closed with De Poitier's corpse lying on the floor.
…
Agnes threw the last pistol onto the floor. Ten shots, all of them missed. When she got out of here, she would really need to practice her shooting again.
She breathed heavily, and so did Wardes. It was clear that he wasn't seeking to win. Some of the generals were standing alongside Agnes, while others were protecting Henrietta from attack. Against this many foes, even the former Captain of the Griffin Knights couldn't hope to win.
"Surrender, Wardes," Agnes shouted. "We'll just throw you into the dungeons for the rest of your life, not execute you."
Wardes continued to pant, but then dashed forward with his wand upraised. He swung it at Agnes, only for it to be blocked with a wall of water. As he gasped in shock, he stared at Henrietta, who had her staff out.
"I may not be able to cast my tornado on you Wardes, but I can do this! Agnes!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The Musketeer Captain moved forward, her knife in her left hand. And with a fluid gesture, she stabbed Wardes in the chest. He fell backward, and made to get up, only for a coterie of generals to stand over him, their wands ready to strike. Agnes pushed past some of them and pointed a sword at the traitor.
"You've lost, Wardes. Release the wind spell and get us out of here."
Wardes gave a harsh laugh and then coughed as blood dribbled out of his mouth. But then as he laughed, everyone heard another noise. They had no time to pay attention during the battle, but they realized that the sounds of fighting had slowly petered out over the course of the fight with Wardes. And now that it was replaced by something else.
The sound of drums. And then the blaring of trumpets. It was a jovial sound, a light march that initially seemed more fitting for the parade ground. But while Henrietta blinked in confusion, every other Tristanian gave a horrified expression. And Wardes laughed again at their faces.
"You recognize that song, do you not, Agnes? The "Slit Throat" song, indicating that no quarter will be given to enemies? Besides, something I think you will like to know."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange talisman. It appeared to be a small glass stone.
"This stone? It's the source of that wall. It keeps you from escaping this temple. But-"
"NO!"
Agnes realized what he was about to say and immediately drew her sword back for a strike. But it was too late. Wardes crushed the stone, right before the sword sliced off his left hand.
"Guh!"
He coughed in pain, but even then he couldn't keep the leer off of his face as he finished his sentence.
"It also keeps my friends from entering it."
With those words, the wall of wind disappeared. And the generals and everyone in the church looked outside. They were surrounded. They couldn't tell how many, but at least hundreds, maybe thousands. Almost all of them had swords out, as magic and guns would be of limited value in the small enclosed area of the temple.
"Long Live Albion!"
With those words, they charged. The remaining Tristanian generals held their wands out, ready to strike. But Agnes took her position to the right of her queen, waiting for the attack.
"Your Majesty?"
"Yes, Agnes?"
"Are you afraid?"
The Princess shook her head to Albion, much to Agnes's surprise.
"No. There is nothing to be afraid of. I've bought time for Napoleon and De Poitiers to get the rest of the soldiers, and I was praying to Brimir before the attack began."
The Princess held out her wand, and a wall of water blocked the entranceways. But almost instantly she could feel it being battered by magical attacks. It wouldn't hold out long, and then there was nothing more to be done. Even at the cost of her life, she would not use Tornado destroy this temple with her own hands.
Well, there was one thing. Still maintaining the spell, she turned to her left, to Wales who also stood beside her. He gripped her hand with his own, his other hand holding a sword.
"Wales?"
"Yes?"
She smiled at the one she loved.
"Kiss me."
With a sad smile, Wales obliged. For these last moments of her life, Henrietta thought, she could abandon her pretense as a Princess of Tristain. As the water wall collapsed and the Albion soldiers charged in, the Princess once again became a young girl, fighting alongside her lover. She watched Agnes charge in with her sword, and begin to valiantly fight against ten Albion soldiers. The generals did the same.
Meanwhile, Wales and Henrietta parted their lips. Holding the other's hands, the two grasped their weapons and charged at their enemy one final time. And as Henrietta fired another wall of water at her enemies, she had one final thought run through her mind.
"Goodbye, Louise. I'm so sorry."
…
END OF PART II: THE HANGED MAN.