Everything around him was on fire, the scarlet flames burning away everything that he had tried to protect.
Pain, that was all he knew at this moment. The pain that coursed through his body that didn't even let him move.
In front of him, he could see the ones that were responsible for causing the fire. The ones responsible for burning what he was trying to protect. For giving him this pain.
A large group, all of them cheering as they continued to burn away at the precious objects that he was meant to safe guard.
Then after they finished burning the rest of them, they all turned to him, revealing their faces. Red eyes with evil grins truly made them seem demonic.
They marched over towards him, slowly. Crossing over the corpses of that were in their path, some of them even stepping on the heads without a care in the world.
He could only watch as they surrounded him from all sides.
Everywhere he looked he could only see red glowing eyes.
He didn't even manage to beg before they all lunged.
And tore him apart.
[Scene]
Nelson awoke with a gasp.
His heart pounding in his chest as he took gasped breaths before he finally calmed down.
The soldier swallowed the spit in his mouth with a gulp and looked around. He was in the infirmary of the castle, with a few others that had failed in their previous push against the rebel forces.
There were other on beds like his own, some of them were groaning in their sleep while other were silent.
Nelson turned his eyes to the ceiling and simply laid there for a few moments.
He coughed, which made him wince in pain. A hand went to his throat as he realised how dry it was.
"Water," he mumbled, pushing aside the covers. He stared silently as the bandages wrapped around his torso. His lips pulled into a straight line, before he ignored it.
The man sat up, and looked at the table by his bed. There was no water there, and from what he could see in the dark it seemed that there wasn't any nearby.
Nelson grumbled out a curse as he slowly pushed himself off the bed and to his feet. He let out a quiet hiss as he could feel the wounds under the bandages complain.
He made his way through the infirmary, thankful that they hadn't taken off his pants, and went towards the exit.
Albion Castle was rather quiet at night, as oppose to bustle in the morning. Even then, compared months ago, there was much less noise due to how many of the castle occupants had been lost.
The soldier shook his head, he ignored that train of thought and focused on simply getting a drink.
He made his way through the halls of the castle, thankful for the Lumafly Lanterns. Despite the fact that he had seen them numerous times, it was still a marvel to him.
Mostly due to how such a commoner's tool would be used by even the royalty, especially royalty from another country as they belonged to a commoner village in Tristain.
It made him proud to a degree.
The soldier continued walking until he finally found the kitchen, and left with a single glass of water.
As he walked back towards the infirmary, a sight caught his eye.
From where he was, the main hall of the castle was a simple walk down where he was. It was due to that he could see that the main hall seemed to be… red?
Nelson stood in the middle of the hallway, debating whether or not he wanted to see if there was an actual threat in the castle on his own, or if he should alert someone else.
Eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and the soldier walked towards the main hall.
The red glow became brighter and brighter as he got closer. Until finally his destination was just around the corner.
His eyes widened when he stepped into the main hall, his breathing hitched as he gripped the glass tighter in his hands.
The black torch by the throne was ablaze with a roaring, yet oddly silent, fire. Scarlet flames were reaching high into the air, illuminating the rest of the hall with the same colour.
But the thing that shocked him the most was the figure that stood by the torch.
It was a tall, slim figure who had their back turned to him.
Nelson gulped as his eyes looked at the shadow that the figure was casting, and saw that the two horns that grew from where his head would be.
He took a step back, and for some reason the single step that he had taken seemed like it was the loudest sound he had made in his life.
A pair of red eyes appeared on the shadow on the floor, the same scarlet as the flames.
They looked at him.
And the next thing Nelson knew, he was back on the infirmary bed.
He sat up, confused and disorientated. Was it… Had it just been a dream?
His eyes shut tight as he reached for the glass of water by the side of his bed and took a drink.
[Scene]
Princess Henrietta of Tristain sat alone in her room. She was at her desk, writing away at a letter that she wanted to give to a very important person.
The princess face was like a stone statue as the quill continued to scratch the letters on the parchment.
Her writing slowed as she neared the end, and after signing her name she gently placed the quill beside the letter.
Her teal eyes stared down at the message she had written, skimming through the words as she made sure that she wrote what she wanted to write.
After the third time, she nodded her head and stood up from her seat. The princess walked around her room, until she was at her window. She pushed it open and leaned over the frame, her fingers resting on them.
She looked out, seeing the open world outside. A free world that she wanted, but could never have.
She was to be a princess, because she was born as one. She would be the one to lead this country, because she was the princess. She would be queen once she was married, because she was the princess.
She was to be wedded to a man that she did not love, for the country that she was a princess to, because she was born as one.
It seemed that all her life, she had no choice in the matters that would've been the most important.
Her fingers on the window frame tightened their grip, before she relaxed.
She took a deep breath and turned away from the window. The princess headed back to her desk, the ink had dried and the letter was ready to be sealed.
Once she holding the envelope that held the letter, the princess paused as the thought came to her.
Who would be the one to send this letter?
She couldn't trust Count Mott, even with him still in Romalia she couldn't exactly trust the man with the reputation that he had. He was loyal to crown, but she wasn't sure that he could handle the situation she would be sending him to.
Then a person came to mind. Louise, her old friend back when they were children.
Coming from the Vallieres, she was as loyal as one could be towards the crown and more importantly towards her. She would surely follow her request to do this, and still be able to continue even when she'd be confronted with the horrors that would be come with it.
She had even seen the magic that she had casted, the black flames that tore through the tower.
She even had a Familiar with magical prowess and abilities that would keep her safe.
Her hands tightened gripped the letter tighter as the image of the Familiar popped back in her mind.
Those empty eyes, that white shell, those horns, the ratty cloak, and most importantly of all was the Soul Wand of the one with four horns.
She winced as she recalled those features, standing in front of a burning village before vanishing without a trace. She recalled hearing those features repeated by a messenger when they had to describe the thing that had torn apart the merchant caravan.
She could trust her friend; she could trust Louise with all of her heart. But could she really put the live of Wales in the hands of something that was the kin of such a horrifying figure?
Her eyes focused on the letter, and she had to decide whether or not her trust for her friend outweighed her fear for the Familiar.
[Scene]
Vittorio stood in the courtyard as the two moons hung high the sky.
The pope wasn't alone, as behind him was the large Void Vessel.
It was standing behind him, Its head was held high, looking forward.
In its hands was a Soul Wand, almost as long as it was tall. Whatever light that reached the Void Vessel, it was reflected by the many carvings and notches on the body of the wand. The tip of the wand dug into the ground underneath.
Covering the Void Vessel, past the cloak that it already wore, was a large white cape that hid its body from the back. Revealing only its head from the back.
The Void Vessel loomed over the pope, nearly twice as tall as the young man, and stood still as a statue. The only movement was the wind blowing at its cape.
Neither of them said anything, both the pope and the Void Vessel standing silent in the night.
Until finally the young pope turned around, craning his head back so that he could stare into the eye sockets of the Void Vessel.
It titled its head down in response.
"You understand what you need to do?" He asked.
It nodded its head.
"Louise Francoise Le Blanc De La Valliere," he said the name "The Void Mage of Tristain and master of the Gandalfr, The Left Hand of God."
The Void Vessels clenched its right hand tighter around the Soul Wands handle.
"If what Princess Henrietta says is true, then we have found another Void Mage" he paused and then continued "and possibly another one of your Siblings, alive and a Familiar towards her.
"You are to head to Tristain, and see whether or not Louise Francoise is a Void Mage and the Familiar she has summon is truly the Gandalfr. If she is one and her Familiar is the Left Hand of God, then you mustn't hurt her."
His eyes hardened, narrowing into a glare "But if she isn't a Void Mage and her Familiar isn't what we need, then she runs the risk of forming a cult that could divide the humans further."
He looked away "Normally, I would ask you to do the same as you did before. Execute the girl, and any of the surroundings that are related to her."
The Void Vessel nodded his head, pulling free the Soul Wand from the ground and holding it to the side.
He shook his head "Unfortunately, I can't have you do that this time."
It looked at him, staring blankly with its featureless face.
"She is close friends with Princess Henrietta, the few that know about your affiliation with me. She is a student of Tristain Academy, and her death would be noticed unless she was to be sent in a literal war zone," the young pope's hands clenched into fists "And according to the princess, she is related to a powerful foe that even I hesitate to think that you can beat."
It tilted its head. It pointed a finger at itself.
"I know that you are confident in your abilities, but its better if we do not make any undue enemies. Especially ones that can split the human race even further when we should be banding together."
The Void Vessel lowered its hand and nodded.
"In that case, I only need you to examine her." The pope explained as it stared at him "See if she really is a Void Mage, if she isn't then you are to leave her alone."
The pope looked up at the Void Vessel, it was still staring at him without a single change in his pose.
He sighed "If you wish, you can also take whatever or how many of your Siblings is with her."
It nodded, satisfied.
"Good." The pope turned away from the Void Vessel "The messenger just left this night, it would take him a few days to reach Tristain at optimal conditions, a week at most. That should give plenty of time to go there and see if the Princess is correct or not."
He looked over his shoulder.
"This is your mission, my Familiar."
It knelt on one knee and gave a deep bow. It stood up, and looked up at the sky.
It stared at the two moons for a moment, and then it was enveloped in the same black ink of its body. Only the cape was left alone as it was covered from the top of its horns. Its eyes glowed a bright white, contrasting the color.
Then it simply vanished. Leaving the cape to be blown away in the winds.
Vitorrio turned his head forward. An impassive look on his face.
It was broken when he felt a tug on his pants, he turned to see that the three horned Void Vessel was at his side. Somehow he hadn't notice it approach him.
He turned away, causing it to release its grip on his pants, and walked away.
The Void Vessel stared at him for a moment, before it followed him back inside.
[Scene]
"Is that the situation right now?" Wardes questioned the messenger in front of him.
"Yes sir," The messenger nodded his head "There has been numerous attacks on the Albion Royal Family by the Reconquista, they are whittling them down day by day."
The man let out a 'hmmmm' as he examined the letter in front of him "At this rate, if they get attacked sometime this week, the castle could fall to their hands without effort."
"Indeed sir, according to reports almost all of their known supply lines have been cut. And the most recent attempt to reclaim them have been met with failure."
Wardes eyes flicked towards the man, and then back to the letter "And if the castle is attacked, whatever is inside would be buried with them."
Without another word, he crumpled up the letter and took out the sword-wand at his hip. "That settles it then, I must head towards Albion post haste." He tossed the crumpled letter in the air and pointed at it, causing it to burst into flames.
"The glory of Reconquista depends on it."