Magostera: voted Mizhan
IliIli567: voted Sithel
Guest: voted Sithel
Archangel Xireon Chaos God: I guess that means you're voting for Mizhan. But I agree with you, the most 'sympathetic' Dark Elf is Dargin... a necromancer whose hobby is curses... The Drucchi are very charming individuals, the ideal neighbors...
War-Shed: voted Sithel.
Boyzilla: voted... Hakuno... who are not a candidate. Null vote
Voting result: Sithel 3; Mizhan 2; Null 1
(Applause)
Don't complain about the result, that's what you chose.
Author's note: sorry I'm late. On the one hand, I'm sick and exhausted. On the other hand, I started working on a new series (give me another week or two for it to be released on FanFiction).
Quis te constituit regem?
(Who Made You King?)
"Why fight the Humans for control of the seas? It would be a war without profit. Let us show them instead the wealth to be gained by trading with us. Our ships are faster and carry more cargo, and we have dealt with the Western Lands for centuries longer than they have. We will control them with the promise of more riches than they could ever imagine."
—Wavemaster Sullandiel Fartrader speaking to the gathering of Clan Lords before the Phoenix King, 1C 2149
The slaves, humans dressed in ragged clothing, worked under the close supervision of several Druchii armed with whips. The Dark Elves were tense and anxious, watching carefully the baskets full of earth and small stones that were shoveled up by ropes to the top of the cliff.
Above, the baskets were toppled in sieves. Under the greedy gaze of Sithel and Mizhan each stone was examined.
Until then, apart from an old human-made sword (very posterior to the fall of the city) and an Asur arrowhead fired during the fall, no manufactured object had been found.
Very sensitive to tension, Artoria had taken Hakuno's hand and had dragged her several tens of meters away. Close enough to be able to observe what was happening... far enough away not to be involved.
Dargin and his skeleton guard had followed them. His usual bodyguard, a Druchii privateer, was not near the necromancer. Like a dozen other privateers, he had joined the Dark Elves who surrounded Mizhan.
Only three privateers were near Sithel.
[Master?]
Kishinami flinched.
[Saber?]
[If the medallion is at the bottom of the rift, it's only a matter of minutes before the Dark Elves find it. What should we do? ]
[Do?]
The question annoyed Artoria a bit.
[Mizhan and Sithel both want the locket and they're ready to kill. I can tip the scales one way or the other. If you give the order, I am ready to intervene.]
As always Artoria had this serious and devoted look that made her the embodiment of the chivalrous ideal.
The Sovereign of the Moon took a few moments to reflect. She was certain that if Sithel took the Dragon Medallion... there would be many deaths. But that didn't mean there would be fewer victims if Mizhan got that badge.
Hakuno's only certainty was that she could make one of the Druchii leaders owe her a favor.
Hakuno did not have the opportunity to make a decision.
There was a cry and one of the slaves stood up.
In his hand, he held a heavy metal chain that had not been damaged by centuries past covered with soil, at the end of this necklace hung a circular amulet. It was impossible to recognize the object at such a distance, but all the Dark Elves rushed forward to seize the amulet.
There was no doubt, after thousands of years, the Dragon Medallion had finally been found.
Sithel and Mizhan.
The older sister and younger brother.
They belonged to a powerful clan from the dark city of Karon Kar, a slave port from which the expeditions that ravaged the shores of the Old World began. From childhood, they learned to lie, cheat, and murder to gain power and influence, eliminate their rivals, and secure their position.
As the eldest, Sithel had the initial advantage. Nevertheless, even according to Naggaroth's (though not demanding) standards, the beautiful Druchii was considered... let's say... unstable. Nevertheless, she was a good warrior and a warlock. She was a clan leader since the death of their father, fallen in the Manticore's paddock. By accident, of course. It was just bad luck that he lost his sword just before he fell and his legs got twisted in a rope... In Naggaroth, the clan leaders were still terribly unlucky, much more likely to have a fatal accident than a simple privateer; Go figure why...
Born several centuries after his sister, Mizhan was noted among the nobles as an excellent warrior, a privateer enriched by the spoils of his raids, and a war hero. His popularity had increased rapidly, to the point that none of his subordinates had sought to assassinate him for decades. This level of loyalty was extremely rare among the Druchii.
Of course, the number of clan members willing to support Mizhan had rapidly increased. When the Druchii warrior discovered the location of the Dragon Medallion, two-thirds of the clan had already joined his faction. Nominally, Sithel was still the leader. But the warlock only controlled the last third of the clan.
Mizhan was of course ambitious and wanted first place.
When Sithel hated her brother fiercely because he undermined her authority. She had of course tried to assassinate him, but each failure had strengthened Mizhan to her detriment.
The relationship between Sithel and Mizhan was not really surprising. Even among humans, in this kind of quarrel, it was not uncommon for families to kill each other with daggers, poison, or on the battlefield. There is no second place in the race for the throne. In the end, there is only one winner, the rest... dead bodies.
Nevertheless, the expedition to the Old World required a lot of resources and relationships and Mizhan had been forced to ask his sister for help. Sithel had not refused; the Dragon Medallion would make her a queen... at least if she took this trinket.
An inconvenient truce had been established between the two rivals.
Yet not a member of the expedition doubted that this truce would end the moment the Medallion appeared.
When the slave lifted up the Dragon Medallion, each Dark Elf threw himself forward to grab the object, drawing his scimitar.
The three privateers at Sithel's service.
The ten of them who were loyal to Mizhan.
Forgetting the slaves that they were supposed to watch over other Druchii arrived from all sides... but the majority rallied to the brother's side.
Flanked by two privateers armed with scimitars, Mizhan slit the throat of a first opponent before piercing the chest of a second. Leaning over, he picked up the Medallion to lift it above his head.
As soon as the fight began, the winner was already in no doubt. But we had to be wary of first impressions...
"Come to me Hjertijhrupo!"
A daemon appeared in a vortex of violet-pink energy, responding to Sithel's call. The creature had a particularly hideous appearance. The torso was human-like, but the arms ended with lobster claws, instead of the legs he had four crayfish legs arranged crosswise. As for his head, it was that of a rooster. His skin was covered with purulent blisters convulsing in a particularly disgusting way. Its pink color identified the demon as a subordinate of Slaanesh.
Seizing a privateer between his claws, the monster twists the Druchii... a bit like wringing a mop... the result was particularly gory... splashing everyone with blood and other disgusting things.
Attacking another Druchii, Hjertijhrupo cut him in half effortlessly. When a Dark Elf struck the hideous monster with his scimitar, the weapon bounces off the demon's skin without him appearing to feel the attack. The daemon retaliated by seizing his assailant by the throat... there was a snap and the Druchii's head jumped like a champagne cork.
Waddling forward, Hjertijhrupo headed towards Mizhan, massacring the Druchii who interposed.
It took only a moment for Hakuno to make her decision.
[Saber, kill the daemon!]
Slaanesh was their enemy, he had already demonstrated that. In fact, he was the enemy of everything that existed in the Old World.
Artoria Pendragon disappeared, leaving behind only one after image before reappearing near Hjertijhrupo. The daemon was surprisingly sharp, much faster, and more agile than a human. He was also ambidextrous and able to block an attack with both of his crab claws. In spite of the surprise effect, the monstrous Slaanesh's child stopped the knight's first attack, then another. But Saber was twirling around him. She struck here, then there, appearing at one moment beside him... then above him.
The invisible sword touched once and the purple blood gushed forth. Nevertheless, the wound closed almost immediately. Not only the thick skin of Hjertijhrupo was almost as hard as the scales of a dragon, but the daemon was regenerating.
It didn't really bother Saber, she just kept on attacking... even faster... hitting even harder.
After all, to defeat Hjertijhrupo, it was enough to inflict wounds faster than he could regenerate.
Now covered with cuts from which his purple blood oozed, the demon uttered a cry of anger. The next moment, his eyes lit up. The monster finds himself surrounded by a sphere of increasingly bright light.
All the fighters were blinded...
Hjertijhrupo leaped forward, certain of his victory... except Saber dodged his attack with a side leap.
Like everyone else, the King of Knights had been dazzled. But her fighting instinct allowed her to fight even in this state. She blocked another attack and then retaliated... barely slowed down by her temporary blindness.
Artoria uttered a strangely grave shout as she leaped to shove her sword into the monster's chest...
The creature sank forward, badly wounded but not yet dead.
As the monster seized the Sword of the Wind King between one of his claws, closing the other around Artoria's throat, a bluish aura enveloped the female version of King Arthur. The wind began to swirl around the two opponents as Excalibur appeared as a fuzzy shape as it air sheath fluctuated.
The next moment, lightning flashed around Artoria hitting the ground up to several meters away.
Hjertijhrupo made a cry to freeze the blood as lightning enveloped him with an aura of electricity. He collapsed and... burned to the ground.
Unlike the others present, Sithel knew perfectly well the special abilities of the daemon she had summoned. Hearing his scream, the Druchii closed her eyes and turned her head.
Taking advantage of the confusion, she ran to her brother while pulling a dagger from her belt. The female Druchii jumped on him and threw him to the ground with a shove of the shoulder. Even blind, the warrior had the reflex to counter the first blow, but Sithel struck again and again seeking a vulnerable point... As the blood gushed, she smiled with sadistic pleasure.
At this moment, the blue light emanating from Saber and the flashes enveloping Hjertijhrupo convinced Sithel that she had no more time to lose. Renouncing to finish off her brother, she took the medallion on the ground and ran to the edge of the rift.
Murmuring an incantation, the Druchii drew from her purse a black feather that ignited with a blue flame.
The moment after a magnificent black pegasus materialized in front of the Druchii. The animal was even saddled with a complete harness. Sithel passed the Dragon Medallion around her neck and got into the saddle.
As the black pegasus flew north, Sithel took a last look back.
Hopefully, the poison on her dagger would put an end to her brother's career; Otherwise, she'd be happy to... prepare a particularly warm reunion. Fraternal love is beautiful, isn't it?
As for this... Hakuno Kishinami, Sithel would make her regret intervening in a family quarrel.
The fact that she had blatantly lied to force Hakuno to take her side in the same family dispute did not stop Sithel... this kind of lack of logic did not bother her in the least.
But the beautiful Druchii quickly forgot these small annoyances... her nails painted in black caressed the amulet.
She had won!
No one could challenge her victory; dozens of clans would rally to her to claim their lost inheritance.
The sharp and demented laughter that came out of her black lips terrified all who heard it.
Only a dozen of Druchii had survived the brief but bloody confrontation.
They were all Mizhan supporters. Inferior in number, the faithful of Sithel had been massacred after being abandoned by the superb Druchii clan chief... the word loyalty does not exist in her dictionary.
Nevertheless, the warriors surrounding Mizhan were worried for their leader... Indeed, the privateer was lying on the ground. Although his wound was bandaged, he was sweating heavily and his lips were blue.
Dargin had moved closer to Mizhan and turned to Saber to speak to her in Classic... a language similar to terrestrial Latin.
"Venemum."
"Mizhan was poisoned" translated Artoria to her Master.
Kishinami nodded and held out her hand. In front of her fingers, an A rank Mystic Code appeared. It looked like Excalibur's scabbard. It was the Sheath of the Holy Sword.
Hakuno concentrated and a golden light appeared around the Druchii, while she used the power of Sheath to cast purify Code Cast, erasing any trace of poison.
A complex dialogue was established. Mizhan spoke in his own language, Dargin translated into Classic and Saber translated what Dargin said to her master.
"Why did you save me? You had nothing to gain!"
Hakuno makes a Head Tilt, not understanding the question.
"I could do it."
The Dark Elf looked at the Sovereign with disbelief, doubting the translation. He had it repeated but the answer did not change... These humans were like young children, unbearably naive. It astounded him. Helped by one of his warriors, he stood up.
"I am in debt and I would honor it someday. For now, as promised we are leaving. The slaves are now free."
The day after the departure of the Druchii, the Bretonian's Knights finally arrived. They had galloped all along and were exhausted. At their head, the Knight of the Sun jumped ashore as soon as he saw Artoria.
He knelt down.
"I, Gawain, am back after carrying out the mission entrusted to me."
As royal, as usual, Artoria had a slight smile.
"Rise Sir Gawain, once again you have served us well and I am glad to see you again in good shape.
A few steps behind his king, Lancelot du Lac had a scowl on his face... to say that the two knights did not appreciate each other very much was an understatement.
Sir Gawain rose.
"We made it as fast as we could, but I see we're too late."
"Indeed, the Druchii have already left. Sir Gawain, I will tell you about the events that you did not witness on your way home. The most important thing is to take care of the prisoners who have just been released. Our Master has exhausted herself to treat them because the Dark Elves have been particularly hard on them."
"Of course, my king."
The Knight of the Sun had responded with some distance, almost mechanically, he seemed to think of something else.
Artoria knew her nephew well enough to know.
"Is there anything that bothers you, Sir Gawain?"
"No, my king... well, nothing about your orders. It's just that I've learned some pretty disturbing news."
"What news, Sir Gawain?"
"Marienburg's army has left the city to lay siege to the former dwarf town of Grung Zint, the lair of the Ork leader Ugrok Broken Tooth."
This information surprised Artoria. She had faced - and defeated- Ugrok several times. The Dark Elves had also defeated him during the siege of Marienburg a few weeks earlier.
The Orks of the Pales Sisters were weakened and it was of course the perfect time to attack them...
"But what is the Staadtholder thinking?"
Perhaps Staadtholder Arkat Fooger wanted to show that he could definitely solve the problem posed by the Orks. Unless he wants to free Grung Zint from the Greenskins... after all he was a Dwarf himself. Unless he wanted to protect the mines of the mountains since he was among other things the head of the mining corporation.
Anyway, it was absurd to strip Marienburg of it garrison right now.
Emperor Karl Franz had long wanted to put an end to the Independence of Marienburg, considering that this territory was traditionally part of the Sigmar Empire. He had used the overthrow of Hakuno Kishinami to declare war on Marienburg, using the pretext of his alliance with the former claimant to the throne... something that Hakuno had absolutely not asked for.
For a little more than a month, the imperial armies attacked the Vasteland's cities located on the east bank of the Reikr. Karl Franz had not yet won a great victory, but he remained threatening.
This was obviously not the ideal time to venture an army away from the duchy's capital.
Epilogue of the Shadow Mirror's Arc
A month had passed.
In the Pales Sisters, Marienburg's army had besieged and captured Grung Zint. Ugrok Boken Tooth and his faction had been annihilated.
Nevertheless, the Vasteland army had not returned to Marienburg. Indeed, despite the arrival of human settlers to replace the Orks, the ancient Dwarf city remained unstable. It was mainly the fault of the Legion of the Mound, a horrible army of undead dominating the mountains south of the Gisoreux's Gap.
Armies of skeletons and zombies were constantly attacking the garrisons and patrols of Marienburg, while an evil influence was secretly spreading in the mountains, corrupting the country, gradually transforming it into a no-Life land where the dead could no longer find rest.
The war continued in the part of the Vasteland east of the Reikr River. At the head of the armies of the Sigmar empire, Karl Franz had won several small battles, but his forces were not enough to besiege the castles and towns of the region... and even less to cross the river and besiege Marienburg.
This was the situation in the Vasteland after the overthrow of Hakuno Kishinami.
As usual, when an opponent was finally defeated, two new ones appeared...
In their hunger for power, the great clans of Marienburg had falsely accused Hakuno of being responsible for the misfortunes of the powerful city-state. But the crowd believed the political agitators and their lies.
The only thing that changed after Hakuno was overthrown was that the Marienburgers would have to face their enemies without the help of the Moon Cell or the Servants.
Karel De Jong and Gustaaf Jansen were two guards of the Fooger clan. Before Patriarch Arkat became the new Staadtholder, they were mere private guards. But one of the first reforms of Marienburg's new leader had transformed these vigils into a state police force.
It was of course perfectly accidental that this new police force was still patrolling the warehouses belonging to the Fooger clan... and that they always arrive late when rioters looted and burned a warehouse belonging to one of its competitors. Moreover, the riots that ravaged the property of the Fooger clan's competitors multiplied in Marienburg, as Arkat Fooger gained power and wealth (I swear to you, it's just a coincidence).
Like every night, the two men patrolled the docks to protect the interests of the Fooger clan... uh, I meant Marienburg.
Karel stopped and looked down the river and frowned. The night was dark because the thick cloud cover prevented the light of the moons and stars from illuminating the Reirk. Yet... he pointed to something dark that seemed to float on the water.
"Gustaaf, there's a boat coming!"
"Impossible, the chains that block the river are erected every night from Rijker Island. It is impossible that..."
The rest of his sentence was strangled with blood. A female arm had just landed on his mouth while a blade as sharp as a razor cut his throat.
Karel De Jong tried to shout a warning but he collapsed on the ground, his chest pierced by two daggers in the shape of lightning.
His killer was a woman... dressed in black leather armor that looked like a bikini, she had metal epaulets and a kind of headband decorated with a skull. Her hair was dyed purple and her eyes were outrageously made up with neon green.
She had pointed ears.
The ship that docked on the docks was of an elegant design but decorated with spikes. Her figurehead was a giggling demon head and on her black sail, one could see the drawing of a sea serpent coming out of the waves.
A footbridge landed almost quietly on the pier. Immediately soldiers used it to go ashore.
They had conical helmets, and black plate armor hidden under large dark cloaks.
The Dark Elves were attacking Marienburg.
The Sister of Slaughter wiped her lightning-shaped blade on her victim's sheet. The commander of the Rijker Island garrison had died in his sleep. It was a merciful end. In fact, he was one of the luckiest men in Marienburg at the moment.
The woman in bikini armor crossed the corridor; spanning several corpses, guards, or servants... here and there she met other Sisters of Slaughter busy with eliminating the last survivors of the garrison.
She came out of the tower and walked along the rampart walk to the tower from which was stretched the chain which - normally - blocked the Reikr.
The guards lay on the ground in a puddle of their own blood.
Looking out to sea, the elven woman smiled.
Several ships sailed up the river, filled with Dark Elves soldiers, and privateers. Behind them came a vision of a nightmare... a gigantic dragon several hundred meters long swimming against the current. The monster carried on his back a small castle with towers and ramparts.
Everything was going according to plan.
In Marienburg, the warning had finally been given.
The bells of the temples were ringing as the panicked population left the houses running towards the city gates, but especially blocking the passage to the troops leaving the barracks.
In any case, the garrison of the city was reduced to a minimum and the reaction of the soldiers was too late.
Hydras were advancing in the streets spitting flames from their multiple heads. In front of the Dark Elves' halberdiers, Bloodwrack Medusae turned into stone the soldiers who tried to stop them.
Worse, the dead came out of the cemeteries and took the fighters back... because a very powerful necromancer accompanied the invading army.
As the first light of day illuminated the city, the people of Marienburg lost all hope when they discovered that the Druchii ships had also landed troops out of the walls. Harpies, Manticores, and Black Dragons flew over regiments in black armor...
Dwarves are tough, but they don't run fast.
Arkat Fooger was not a young one and would run even slower.
Holding a huge bag full of Gulden coins against him, he made an effort to break the running record of his people.
It must be said that he had the best possible motivation...
The roar of a Manticore echoed in the subterranean corridor that left the New Palace and led out of town.
Damned knifed ears, how could they have found the secret passage so quickly!?
Hearing the roar of the Manticore ring out again... and much closer, the guards escorting the Staadtholder wavered, looked behind, and... suddenly decided to sprint, leaving their leader behind.
"Ungrateful ones, are you abandoning me? After all, I've done for you?"
But none of the guards answered. None of them were loyal to the Staadtholder for starting, it's just that the pay was good... and the money was only worth it if you could spend it.
Now alone, Arkat had his face covered with sweat and had run out of breath, he stumbled and fell to the ground. Under the shock, the bag he held in his arms opened. In a melodious ringing, the gold coins scattered...
Arkat Fooger crawled four-legged using both hands to put the pieces together but...
For the third time, the cry of the Manticore sounded. The monster had again come closer.
Terrified, Arkat left the bag of gold and started running again.
Seeing a glimmer in the distance, he regained hope. He was almost at the end of the tunnel.
He came out into the light and...
The first thing that noticed was the circle of crossbowmen in black armor pointing their weapons at his chest.
The second thing he saw were the bodies of his bodyguards, curled up in a puddle of blood.
Arkat Fooger did not die at the end of the tunnel... he would not be entitled to the mercy of a quick death.
Covered with chains, he was brought back inside Marienburg.
The fighting was now over. In the harbor, slave barges were already docking while long rows of prisoners were advancing crying and whispering prayers, pushed forward by lashes.
In the Elfgemeete district, dragons and hydras were burning down the Asur palaces.
The New Palace square was crowded with triumphant Druchii warriors.
The guards forced Arkat to bow down before a sort of stone platform levitating above the ground.
The most recognizable element was a kind of gothic cathedra decorated with skulls and demon faces at the top of a staircase. Underneath there was a large flat platform. Two nearly naked male slaves were chained on either side of the staircase... like some sort of pets. And braziers were burning in the front.
The woman on the throne rose to look down on Arkat.
She was beautiful... very beautiful even... her eyes were narrow and oblique giving her a cruel look. Among her hair as black as ink, a lock was white as snow. Her long leather boots went up to mid-thigh. She was dressed in black leather armor and waxed to the point of mirroring.
She turned to the shaved-headed necromancer standing next to her.
"Well, Dargin, we seem to have caught a big rat."
"Indeed, Lady Sithel."
A cruel smile appeared on her black-painted lips and she turned to the thousands of soldiers standing behind her prisoner.
"Today, the city of Marienburg has fallen. Isn't that normal? This city was founded by the Elves; it belongs to the Elves, not men, not Dwarves. Who are we?"
The crowd of soldiers brandished their weapons and shouted with one voice:
"We are the Druchii, we are the Strong! We are Aenarion's true heirs!"
"Yes Marienburg has fallen, Marienburg the city of men is no longer. Today, the city takes on its real name: Sith Rionnasc'namishathir! And who am I?"
Shouting these last words, Sithel had laid his hand on the Dragon Medallion hanging around his neck.
"Long live Lady Sithel, long live the Exarch of Sith Rionnasc'namishathir!"
Stolen by the Dark Elves 5000 years earlier, the emblem of the real Exarch of Sith Rionnasc'namishathir had returned to Marienburg... hanging around the neck of a bloody lunatic!
Author Note: Well, the Shadow Mirror Arc is over. Let's be honest, the 'Good Guys' took a beating, and the bad Druchii won. It's a bad end!
Of course, the story is not over... let's hope the next Arc will allow Hakuno to regain the advantage.
The next Arc start will resume after a time jump of almost a year which will allow the situation to settle.