Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 06-05-23.
CHAPTER XX
Mona Gúðræs
(Moonlight Onslaught)
Chapter Theme: Noah — 戦禍へ征く者 (Those Who Conquer War).
V • CM Monandæg of Ærraliða
(The 5th Day Before-Mild, Moon's Day, 900)
It is early morning.
Natsuki still hasn't told Viola what had happened.
Standing beneath Arles' portcullis entrance, Natsuki views the two guards standing yonside herself.
They aren't looking in their direction, but her paranoia is rising. What if they are listening in on their conversation? Or well… their argument, no less?
"Vio—" A searing stare stops Natsuki in her tracks. Viola says nothing from atop the stallion, trained eyes narrowing faintly at Natsuki. The latter isn't sure whether this is out of disgust or spite. Potentially both?
Behind them the mounted Arles Guard arrives. Each carries a sword, bow and a heavy quiver of arrows. They are evidently petrified.
"We shall remove Yatagarasu from these lands." Viola declares, lowering her armet's visor. She, like the Guard, is fully armoured. Turning her horse, she signals for the soldiers to follow suit. "The treeline past the Rosalie Dyke will suffice. It will be adequate cover." Her voice is now muffled from her previous action, commanding the Guard forward.
The way Viola is speaking… Natsuki cringes at her taciturn authority.
Her uneasiness is growing. A foreboding dread is forming within her mind; neither is it due to their argument nor Yatagarasu. Why? Natsuki should be chasing after Viola to warn her! How can she just stand here and allow the Arcewælcyrge to leave?
She does not know… nor can she sense the dark presence looming behind her.
"I think you'll do nothing." Natsuki says vehemently in the brief flashback. "All you ever do is threaten me. You don't have the gall to hurt me."
"...Whyever would you assume I will hurt you?" Viola demands, edging ever closer to Natsuki on the chair. "Just because you are being a childish brat, does not mean I shall physically harm you."
"But mentally that's totally fine, huh?" Natsuki stares defiantly at the Arcewælcyrge whose demeanour alters. Before she is given another chance, Viola shakes her head and leaves. Now alone, her own stupidity is swiftly realised.
Breaking from the forced flashback, Natsuki can only helplessly observe as Viola departs. Ugh. She has an awful migraine setting in.
Guiding her horse down the steep hill past dry-stone walls, Viola's gaze turns skywards. The horizon is bare from clouds. This is fortunate indeed. "Where is the ballista?" She asks the Captain of the Guard beside her.
"They have to take the back entrance." Laura replies. "This hill's too steep for the horses."
The packed siege engine is potentially their only salvation against this Key. Worse, they only have a rough estimate that Yatagarasu's ploughing through the area. Scouts questioning rural villages have only aided them so far. Fortunately, there has been a pattern to the chaos he has created.
If only their technology is better, then they could put a stop to this immediately.
"Then we should await them inside the forest's edge." Although, this shall mean that the guards bringing the ballista will be sitting ducks. "What do you propose we do if Yatagarasu attacks before the ballista arrives?"
"It's hard to say." Laura pulls her horse's reins, stopping it from moving. Turning, she then lifts her visor, eyes squinting fruitlessly in attempts to spot the siege engine. She can vaguely see something within the distance. "I think they've just exited town. I see something by the wall."
The Guard moves without them as Viola also halts her stallion. He winnies and splutters as he turns, hoofing the dirt beneath him. "I shall go back. Organise the others from here."
Going back up the hill, Viola realises this route will be impossible for the ballista. They will have to find another way down. Reaching the team, she instructs them towards the Rosalie Dyke. They will have to go through the palisade gatehouse. "The hillside is far too dangerous. We must take the corpse road."
This pathway will take them directly through the gatehouse towards Arles' cemetery. The aftermath of bubonic plague sweeping the region is evident here. Smoke from pyres loom the corpse road, producing foul odours of charred and rotten flesh. It is enough to perturb Viola's stomach.
Gods' the smell! Even through her armet, the scent is unbearable.
Painstakingly, the ballista eventually arrives at its destination.
Hidden discreetly within the treeline, the large group overlooks the skies.
Not a hint of the Key God is whispered, gaslighting them into believing all is fine.
Only… It 'twas not for very gradually, the birds' silence. The insects—even the breeze quietens, until seldom nought is heard. Nothing is happening…!
"Where is it?" Laura's voice rises from within her armet, evidently becoming nervous. Did they wrongly predict the route it is taking? "Arcewælcyrge, what if it doesn't show?" She turns her sights on Viola expectantly who calmly observes the horizon. How is this woman so composed? Like the others, Laura has heard the rumours, but are they true?
"Can you not sense it?" Viola questions her, peering through her helmet's ocularium slit. Something vile is within the air, and it isn't the stench radiating the corpse road. It is something else—an entity far more corrupt.
From the corner of her eye, Viola thought she saw a figure deeper within the trees. Focus turning to this location, an awful migraine starts throbbing.
"...Arcewælcyrge?"
Nothing is there. Viola's attention slowly drops from a particular tree. "Our surroundings. They are false."
"What are you…" Laura does not finish her inquiry. Staring behind Viola's shoulder, she pales behind her helmet. T-that's the…—"Florence forces!" She bellows, startling the Arles Guard behind them. The soldiers position their horses around the Captain and Arcewælcyrge, readying themselves to dispatch their adversaries.
"Hold!" Viola raises her hand, signalling the group to calm. They can only glance at each other uneasily as their old nemesis approaches. Is the Arcewælcyrge mad?
"If they were to battle us, they would not draw this near." Viola points out, her gaze scoping out the Florentine banners which flag-bearers fly. These soldiers aren't ordinary. They are the Cavaliers Royaux—Queen Rosalie XIX's personal Knight-bodyguards. Has the Florentine monarch arrived?
Viola's eyes drive towards a single cavalier fast approaching them. Cautiously she draws her horse forward, meeting him halfway.
"Le grand corbeau avance." He speaks, his accent so thick Viola nearly mishears him. He is sitting upon a great steed that wears a striped caparison of white and blue. Within the azure hue are golden fleur-de-lis. The horseman meanwhile, wears a full suit of argent armour with an armet helm similar to Viola's. It even has a lever inserted in the visor like hers. "Sa Majesté, la Reine Rosalie nous a envoyés—"
A squall reverberates the skies, exacerbating Viola's migraine further. It causes them to both peer zenith. Just in time, for Yatagarasu flies overhead, sending incredible turbulence after him. The Arles and Florentine horses become spooked, jolting and trotting fearfully on the spot.
Viola's migraine transformed into hemicrania, seemingly shifting sides after Yatagarasu who flies eastwards. What… In the world? The Arcewælcyrge stares after the great crow within confusion before quickly realising her mistake. The advancing cavalier is already departing. She does the same, running her stallion towards the Arles Guard.
"Ready the ballista!" She cries over the panic swelling within the soldiers.
There is no telling how disastrous this will be. They require keeping the Key's attention solely upon themselves. However… There is the situation regarding Florence.
Steadying the stallion, Viola struggles to set her sights upon the advancing Knights. Her terrified soldiers don't aid their plight either. Especially neither when some flee. It is pointless trying to hinder them.
Perhaps…—Her restricted gaze falls upon Arles within the distance—...She should have brought Natsuki with her?
The thought burns short as Yatagarasu plunges through the Florentine forces. Sheer carnage unfolds as more guards flee upon the ballista firing. The missile sours, harmlessly smashing into a distant dry-stone wall.
"You!" Laura yells for a retreating guard, the sound of hooves blanketing any attempts for him to hear. The Captain nearly motions to make chase when Viola reined her horse before her.
"There is no point in chasing those without willpower!" The stallion fidgets on the spot, kicking dirt beneath his hoof anxiously. "We will end this without them."
Behind her, another ballista missile is launched into the horizon. This time the projectile hit its mark, carving into flesh and sending gory bits aerial. Blood spurts from the corvus' side, a shriek ricochetting from his gullet. The soldiers who are extant, hold their breath in anticipation as Yatagarasu falls from the heavens. His body shatters dry-stone upon plummeting, debris, feathers and blood sailing everyplace.
The Florentine Knights are the closest, kicking their horses into action.
Everything is going so swiftly, that Viola can hardly keep up. An abrupt vision augments this further. From nowhere, the Arcewælcyrge's surroundings metamorphosed for the briefest of seconds.
Ahead twas the impossible, for once more, she is within the misty sands of Wælheall. Miles away a monumental structure of grim foreboding is witnessed. It is the Black Column—the migraine throbs within Viola's skull. Inexplicable unease bombards her as this vision shifts. In its place, Arles returns… in barren decay, two Moons with Administars yonside. Now, a shapeless figure stands feet away.
"Drepan ðâs." It hisses at her in the Old Tongue: 'Slay them.'
"Walkyrie!" A gauntlet landing upon Viola's armoured shoulder spooks her from her turmoil. Yatagarasu is now pulsating upon dry-stone; the Cavaliers Royaux and Arles Guard admirably eviscerating him.
Jolted from this gorey panorama, the startled Wælcyrge's attention progressed to the Knight beside her. The Florentine's silver coronet gracing her armet makes Viola freeze.
The previous events from the Palais de Florence come crashing down inside her head. She is Queen Rosalie XIX. So she truly is here?
'…But why had Natsuki…?'
"What are you doing here?!" She vehemently demands of her.
"I said that Yatagarasu will arrive, no? I have come to claim him." Rosalie pauses suddenly, her attention pulling back to the Key God. "Something is wrong."
Disquieted anxiety pours through their conjoined forces as everyone senses something ire. Their surroundings silence afresh, only the gentle breeze gliding through wild grass. An impending doom is afoot; invisible to the material plane. Yatagarasu, who should have died, springs back to life renewed.
"W-withdraw!" Laura commands the Arles Guard, having been partaking in slaughtering the corvus. Before they can react, Yatagarasu hooks a nearby guard into his beak. He is launched far into the skies, a sickening crunch following as he smashes the ground. A bloodcurdling scream dies upon his landing, sending shivers down everyone's spines.
Viola really doesn't want to do this.
Pulling out her Heart of Manipulation, she is about to summon the energy to materialise Kiyohime. However, her attempt is thwarted by none other than the Monarch. "Unhand me." She accuses Rosalie. The Sovereign's hand wraps around the Anchor, cancelling out the emerald Ardour instantly.
"You will kill them all—drepan ðâs." Viola gazes astoundedly at the Queen, dread seeping through the cracks of her psyche.
What… is… happening?
What was once Queen Rosalie, becomes a disembodied shadow. The form is masculine and it is predatory. "Hê ôra mec offrung. Ðafian mīn, Wælcyrge." — 'They are my offerings. Submit to me, Wælcyrge.'
An indefinable feeling teems inside Viola's mind. This thing, or it, her…—no—him—features no identity. He is an immaterial entity much like the Dark Whisperer. Only far more dangerous. "Rihtheort efen hêo." — 'Just like her.'
Who…?
The shadow looms closer until his face is before Viola's helm. The next sentence freezes her blood: "Êower Wælcyrge sy mîn." — 'Your Wælcyrge is mine.'
At this moment, the entity ceases and in its place is Yatagarasu. Within the carnage of everything, he crashes into her, sending Viola flying backwards off the stallion.
"—ola!"
Ears ringing and black stars swarming her vision, she stares skywards. Inexplicably, the Key is unwounded and souring within the horizon. W-what on Earl? Heaving for breath, she can't do anything. So heavy… she felt, so… "—Viola!"
It is not the Queen who calls to her, nor the Captain. It is in fact, Natsuki.
Confused, Viola finds Natsuki smashing knees-first beside her, appearing breathless and pale.
"N-Natsuki, what are y—"
"—S-stein—she's here."
Sanada.
Pain, confusion and dread disappearing, Viola heaves herself upwards. "Where?" Absolute butchery plays out around them. But the mixed emotions transmute into rage. That foul heathen dares to show her face now? "Tell me where she is."
"U-up the hillside." Natsuki points towards dry-stone walls leading to Arles. Alas for they see nothing, only the distant figure of the retreating Yatagarasu.
Realising her mistake, Viola stares after him then soon transitions her sights upon the stallion.
He stumbles back up onto his four legs, wobbling in panic. Natsuki quickly rushes to him, grasping his reins and smoothing a palm along his face calmingly.
To the Cavaliers Royaux Viola next looks.
A heavy silence strikes their forces, every soldier encircles their respected leader. The air is quickly falling stale, Viola has to act fast. "I-I—" She declares breathlessly. "—I will not order my soldiers to attack, but I advise that you leave." This is directed to the Queen who removes her coronet-armet.
"There is more than one reason why I am here today." Rosalie remarks, her helm being taken by a Knight as she removes her padded hood. Blonde tresses which had somehow remained encased within the headpiece sprawl down her shoulders. "Can I speak with you privately?"
Natsuki looks at Viola wearily, studying her body language. It is hard to determine what the Arcewælcyrge is feeling. Nor can Natsuki really ascertain as the armour obscures Viola's body so well. Seriously. Is she considering listening to this enemy again? This unfortunately appears evident because the soldiers part for their masters.
Heading towards the treeline, Rosalie awaits Viola who removes her own armet. Now looping her arm around her helm, Viola stares at her expectantly. Well?
"Before leaving the Palace last night, my spies reported that there's disturbing movement along the border. Large groups have been seen in the western and northern regions of Windbloom. Do you know anything about this?"
Viola stops, evidently confused but starting to hazard guesses.
Their only neighbours within those areas are Florence and Altay. Is this possibly related to the bandits? Or, quite potentially, the Slaves? Oh, Gods', she prays this isn't the case. "...There have been incidents these last few months." She carefully clarifies to the Monarch. "What have your agents seen?"
This is concerning. Why are the Florentines snooping around their rural lands? Unless—
"—Brigands have settled within old ruins east of here along the Remus border"
Those blasted bandits have taken the abandoned castles. Viola internally seethes. She will destroy them all. They have learned naught: This is clearer than daylight. "Why are you revealing this to me?" She enquiries, keenly curious as to why.
Ultimately this woman is the Queen of Florence, their venerated enemy.
Not warring with Florence will be their downfall for they stole Windbloom's sovereign land long ago. It is their right to retake what has been purloined. Or, that is what Guadeloupe officials state, anyway. "You're sharing vital information with your adversary."
"It will be a shame to witness Windbloom crumble from within." The Queen studies her then transfers her gaze towards the Arles Guard. "Our rivalry is seemingly endless, and for what reason? Because our ancestors disagreed and overreacted? Due to Florence enslaving Windbloom? Or is it simply petty nonsense that we kill each other rather than spotting the obvious? We have had unending trouble with brigands lately. So much that I'm sure they're being led by someone. Just north of us is a large encampment of the wretches."
They have spread far and wide?
Viola falls silent, her own gaze retreating to her soldiers as well.
Natsuki is awkwardly huddled around them, appearing anxious—the Dark Whisperer has not yet appeared. No, it makes sense she will remain hidden now. "Your Anchor." Viola breaks the stillness. "Which one is it, and why is it halved?"
The abrupt question dismantles the Queen's guard. Slipping off her leather glove, Rosalie examined her Sovereign Ring. "I am surprised you even noticed. It's the Heart of Dreams. During the founding of Florence, it was shattered in half during La Campagne d'Or."
Wasn't that the Golden Campaign? Viola has heard of this event, though only briefly.
The royals of Altay escaped during a civil war and rallied the people of Florence. They were so successful that they later united Florence into a single Kingdom. Since then, they have led Florence as an absolute monarchy. Today Queen Rosalie is the sixty-fifth Florentine sovereign and the twentieth reigning monarch of House Claudel.
"Of dreams? Thus it can astral project inanimate objects and beings to other locations?"
"Why should I reveal this to my adversary?" Rosalie counters, a small smirk edging her lips before their attention is snapped towards Arles. The Chapelle Sainte Fran d'Arles' bell is echoing across the land. Is it already noon? "I must depart as it's undesirable to travel within the darkness. Walkyrie, will you remain in contact with me? It is vital that we crush Yatagarasu before he does any more damage."
She doesn't await Viola to speak, summoning a Knight with the flick of her fingers. "Où est Grosse? Je la veux ici." Soon, another soldier is beside Rosalie in argent armour. "This is the Grand Chevalier, Fiar Grosse." The Sovereign extends her arm out towards her. "I wish for her to be my emissary, if you shall allow it."
The Arcewælcyrge stares at turquoise irises shrouded behind the armet's ocularium slit. She knows precisely who this is.
Fiar Grosse is a notorious tactician who had won several battles during the recent Five Year War. It is thanks to this woman that Galleria had broken away from Windbloom last year. Truthfully Viola wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she can't converse with her. The stories she has are likely astounding. "What will I receive in return?"
"A truce of apology and a treaty of potential alliance."
Could this perhaps be a trap? Viola positioned her helm to her front, thinking things through. As the Arcewælcyrge, she is the highest ranking official within Arles.
Honestly, an alliance with Florence would be a great boon indeed. Together they could overcome many hurdles and strengthen their defences against the Altay and Remus Empires. Will Queen Mashiro allow it? Her father had sworn he'd conquer Florence like 'all good Kings should'.
"I have three conditions. One: She is to be under my surveillance at all times. Two: You must immediately pen a letter to Her Majesty, Queen Mashiro I. This will be sent to Windbloom tonight. Three: We are to continue the hunt for Yatagarasu in the future."
"Hm." Rosalie smiles in amusement. "You're an interesting one, Shizuru Viola. You would have made an excellent Cavalier."
Soon, Viola and Natsuki make their way up the hillside alone.
"Are you alright?" She asks Natsuki who has remained silent the entire time. The Arcewælcyrge holds the stallion's guiding rope, steadily walking him upwards. "You have been quiet the whole way."
Of course she would have. Natsuki bristles at the concern, feeling conflicted. That accursed woman has been staring at her from across the field but hasn't pounced. Why hasn't the Dark Whisperer leapt at the chance to strike when she has been vulnerable?
In fact, why isn't she here now? The others have gone ahead of them with the guard's corpse. Something is still wrong; Natsuki can still sense disembodied eyes on her. "...There's no point saying anything. It's more of the same thing. I see her and she does nothing." Natsuki's gaze remains locked upon the dry-stone wall they strol past. "I'd rather lie down and forget about it."
They are returning to the villa for a much needed break.
With the stallion stabled, Natsuki and Viola enter the villa with heavy exhaustion.
Since the bell's toll, it has taken another two hours for them to come back. It feels deep into nightfall rather than the early afternoon. But this does not restrict Viola's vigilance.
At any moment, the Dark Whisperer can charge from the shadows.
"I don't really understand what happened to Yatagarasu." Natsuki mumbles as they immediately enter their shared bedroom. Plopping down onto the mattress, she then gingerly angles her sheathed sabre from the bed.
"Neither do I." Seeing him rise like that reminded Viola of Natsuki's resurrection.
But, a Key God? This is unheard of.
"I will have to write Shiro a letter." She sighs, placing down her armet and padded hood within the room's corner.
"You've never seen anything like that before? At all?" Natsuki frowns in thought, quickly averting her gaze when the Arcewælcyrge removes her spaulder's rondels. Rattling and jingling commences the chamber as Viola strips.
Much to Natsuki's exasperation, it makes her heart race. Why? It's just armour! It's… it's the anticipation, isn't it? She knows fully well why she has these feelings. How silly is this?
Even now, Natsuki's stuck having yearning thoughts about her Wælcyrge. What is she thinking? Viola is not her Shizuru, yet she is. Is it an excuse to still feel this inner dispute? Yes. It absolutely is.
Scrambling up from the bed, Natsuki removes her belt, frog, sheathed sabre and boots. This is stu—
"—What caused you to hide what happened yesterday?" Viola's sudden question makes Natsuki pause removing her equipment, hands stalling by the buckles.
The Arcewælcyrge looks towards Natsuki, unfastening her breastplate. She looks anxious. "Nats—
"—I don't know." — 'Maybe it's that whole soul madness again?' — "I just want to sleep." Maybe a bath later will help ease her stress?
Dropping her equipment to the floor, Natsuki pulls herself into bed and squeezes her eyes shut. Calmness is not an option though, as Viola is still removing her armour.
It drives her insane.
The unceremonious clanging of armour against tiles makes Natsuki's ears twitch. Not once, nor twice, and neither thrice does it end. Like a hammer chiselling woughted, blazing iron, the sound reverberates within Natsuki's psyche.
She wants it to stop, but how can she when her mind hinders her? Natsuki, as much as she refuses to admit it, wants Viola.
Molars clenching behind sealed lips, Natsuki instead glares at the far window to gentle seas. This incessant desire needs to disappear…! Alas, the touch of fingers upon her stiff shoulder spooks Natsuki, making her jump.
Startled crimson locks with viridian, Viola's free hand upon her own mahogany gambeson. She is in the process of untying the fabric apart. Pale flesh is visible, as well as the scarring marring her breast.
Natsuki's weary eyes falling southwards causes her to do the same. "...Will it help if I do not sleep? Perhaps even use the other bed?" Instead, the younger woman cautiously veers her focus from her. Viola sighs, straightening to her full height and allowing her arms to fall limp. "Natsuki, what is wrong? This is more than just Sanada, correct?"
"Um." Natsuki prises herself from the mattress to sit up, her left hand encircling her opposite wrist. She can not admit it—no, she will not at all. "It's all so stupid." Natsuki mutters. "I could've been killed—you could have been. Yet here I am, just… Ugh."
"You are struggling because I am not the same person you fell in love with. Yet I am at the same time." Viola reveals, unclipping her sabre's scabbard from its harness. The look she receives from Natsuki makes her force a sad smile. "Even if you try to hide it, I know it is what you feel, Natsuki. When I chose you…" Dipping downwards, she gently seizes Natsuki's wrists. "...you quickly hated me. You spite me for who I am: A killer—the pawn of a monarchy. I can remember fragments of my lives with you now. The Archmeister from before follows you, and only you. Here… I am perhaps far more complicated."
Is it a red flag for Viola to think that way? Natsuki shakes her head. How does this woman always know precisely what to say to her? Staring at Viola's boots, her shoulders sag beneath the pressure. How on Earl is she supposed to respond to this? "I-I don't…" A pent up breath releases. "Why now…?"
"Because why not?"
Natsuki hesitantly cast her gaze back to crimson.
"I will be frank. There is a high possibility that we will die. Indecisive actions will fill you with regret." It is obvious that Natsuki is unable to respond. She has gone nonverbal. With this, Viola unbuckles her belt, allowing the harness and frog to fall onto the floor. Sitting herself down beside Natsuki, she looks at her attentively. "Are you wishing that you still hate me?"
"I… yeah." Natsuki forces truthfully.
It is why she refuses to call Viola by her forename. She simply can't make herself utter those syllables. Does she regret it? Gnawing her inner-cheek, Natsuki continues fidgeting nervously. "You killed dozens of people, but it was in my name—" Natsuki halts herself. Thus this is fine, but when it's for someone else—"I sound like a monster." Natsuki berates herself, thinking herself so foul.
"Human morality is a fickle thing. Sometimes it makes no sense at all." Viola murmurs, playing with her gambeson's cuff. "You can be the most beloved leader, then a moment later, resented due to necessary evil. Tell me. If the plague spreads uncontrollably throughout Arles, how will you proceed?"
"I—" Natsuki herself has dealt with difficult situations such as this. But for Viola to ask so suddenly seizes her guard. How can anyone respond to this without sounding heinous? "I will…" She fell silent for a moment, forcing herself to think logically. "I will isolate the infected into one side of Arles and restrict total movement. The unafflicted will have curfews—especially the children and elderly, since they're the most at risk. But…"
"But?" Viola studies her, a small smile creeping along her lips. This is the Natsuki she can remember.
"Those that die are cremated—along with their clothes. After their housing hasn't had anyone in for a while, they're then deep cleaned. Like that…?"
"Personally I will raze the entire city to the ground." Natsuki stares at her in disbelief, causing her to laugh softly. "Fire is a purifier. This will be our most feasible route as we cannot control disease. Hygiene is astronomically inadequate within these lands. By doing so, the plague will be purged and the survivors will rebuild. It has happened before and will continue to do so."
"But that's—"
"—Evil? Surrendering morality for a logical motive? This is the reality of leadership within these dangerous realms. As the Arcewælcyrge of Windbloom, I have made disastrous mistakes. But, as well as that, I have prevailed in feats rarely seen within this Kingdom's lifetime. You, as my former Ánhere, will follow in my footsteps. Whether you wish it or not, I, and my forebears are within your shadow." Perhaps that is enough for tonight.
"You… I should hate you, yet I can't." Natsuki mutters, leaning her forearms against her thighs. She glares at the tiled floor. In fact, her body is seemingly reacting in the completely opposite manner. Chest tightening, the titillating sensation looms downwards, until—"I'm going to sleep."
Several minutes later, the mattress groans beneath Viola's weight as she too slips under the covers.
This is bad. Natsuki stiffens within Viola's gaze which burns into her back. What's worse, is the fact that the Arcewælcyrge reads through her.
"Try and sleep. I will protect you from her. I promise you."
Ah. The tension from Natsuki's body is not fleeting.
Those words alone affect her, pushing her to yearn for the Arcewælcyrge's touch—Stop.
Beneath the blanket, Natsuki's hands clench into fists under the pressure. 'Natsuki…' A bygone flashback pierces her mind. '...I am sorry for this.' The old memory is of her Shizuru apprehending Natsuki at her office desk. It has been a long time indeed since she has recollected that event. Upon Shizuru seizing her cheeks and dipping close, Natsuki repeals the thought.
This is because Viola's arms are wrapping around her waist like a wanton lover. Tugged against the Arcewælcyrge's front, Natsuki goes rigid. "W-what are you doing?" In vain she struggles, but the palm encircling her jaw from behind makes her freeze.
"Hush." The hot breath against Natsuki's ear makes her shiver. "Relax. You are thinking of something awful."
'How does she know?' Jaw clenching, Natsuki's mind completely blanks at that moment. Engulfed within the Arcewælcyrge's arms, she can do nary anything to escape. Does she… honestly want to? What? Natsuki does not know, and that terrifies her.
"Unexplainable things have happened today. For a time, let us forget it. I will protect you from your fears; whether they're small, large or ludicrous."
"But… why?" Natsuki stares into mystifying scarlet, their body heat sending her mind crazed. Oh, how her body reacts so. It is infuriatingly distracting. The hand locked upon her jaw will not withtract either.
Maybe she's in a nightmare?
Or… does she like it?
"Is this your way of 'protecting' me?" Subconsciously she reaches behind herself, tightly grasping Viola's trouser leg. Perhaps this action is due to her nerves? Nevertheless, tension kindles, casting a fiery atmosphere between them.
"...Is it not to your satisfaction?"
Natsuki twists partially, crimson and viridian staring. Thus, something neither of them have experienced in years sparks: Lust.
"You have an odd way of doing it." Natsuki breathed, eyes half-lidding within her own haze.
"Safeguarding is far more than simple dragonslaying." Viola counters, feeling as if she is on fire.
Oh, how she is aware of that hand against her thigh. It is gripping her trousers so tightly. Natsuki isn't pushing her away. In fact… Viola dips forward until their lips are millimetres apart. An heavy excitement broils within her chest, swiftly amassing and travelling southwards. "...Mental illness is our greatest hurdle. If you do not nip it within the bud, it shall destroy everything you ever loved."
I-is… is that a subtle jab aimed at her? Natsuki glares defiantly, but is left speechless when Viola's palm tracks down from her jaw. Electricity drags along her skin as that hand clasps her shoulder, pushing her into the mattress. "D-do you think I don't realise that?" Natsuki asks honestly, feeling insignificant as her Arcewælcyrge looms above her.
The question is not hearkened and sends Natsuki's mind spiralling.
"Can I kiss you?"
O-oh… no, she—Natsuki's eyes pull downwards to the Arcewælcyrge's lips. Heart beating tenfold, an incoherent mess of speech splutters from Natsuki. "I-I wha—" Where in the Gods' names has this come from?! The simplistic inquiry deluded her already fragile senses. B-but…it's quivering her body reacted without her permission. Ever so soft lips—so soft!—touches hers. An exhilarating rush becomes Natsuki, bulldozing down her senses nonsensically.
It is maddening.
It's all too much yet wanting this to stop is out of the question.
Cast beneath Viola's spell, all logic jettisons aside like an ocean riptide. Akin to a siren's call, their passion keeps her bound where desperation seldom terminates.
This kiss became plural; the smack of lips exciting Natsuki's senses towards oblivion. There is no respite. "A-ah—" Interrupts. "—S-stop." Yet to her surprise, her plea is obeyed. But Gods', that stare! Natsuki's chest clenched and her body aches for her Arcewælcyrge. Wrists caught, they are pinned above her head. W-what? "Wait—"
"What is it?" Viola whispers, edging towards Natsuki's throat, her nose grazed along pale flesh. The shiver that bolts across Natsuki's body makes her smile in anticipation.
"Y-you're too fast."
The statement is breathless and excessively attractive. "Your body does not seem to think so." Viola remarks, pausing as Natsuki presses up against her. Something primal switches on at that moment. "A-ah—" Digging her teeth into her lower lip, the feeling swells to then light her on fire.
Her clothes—no, their clothes—she wants them off.
"N-Natsuki." She hisses out. Oh, sweet Gods' above!
They start a staring contest as Natsuki flops down onto the mattress. Regrettably…?—Viola simply cannot initiate it further. Even if they are into it—Hands remaining atop Natsuki's wrists, Viola heaves for air.
This woman's too much.
Soul madness has enshrouded the truth for so long of her crazed unrequited love. Distant memories and fear are rambling up her psyche, leaving a perplexing mess. Their disorientating feelings can mayhaps reach the heavens and back.
"—I." Natsuki's gaze veers away shyly, feeling far smaller beneath Viola.
'Did we almost have… have…' Sex?
Natsuki heart races as she surveys Viola moving from on top of her. Swallowing, Natsuki hesitantly sits up to swing her legs off the mattress. They sit quietly, the tension still rippling within the room.
"I am sorry." Viola sighs, guiding a palm towards her face as she leans downwards. "That was uncalled for."
"...No. I…I liked it, I think." Natsuki just admitted it after telling herself she never would… Looking anywhere but the Arcewælcyrge, Natsuki's nerves are still on fire. She wants—needs—more! Yet she's—"Why did you stop?"
Viola doesn't answer immediately, her frazzled mind going through so many scenarios.
Gliding fingers through brunette tresses, she brushes the strands from her line of sight.
"You never did befo–"
"—That is the past me." Viola snatches her wrist, silencing her. The former Ánhere is trembling and her chest heaves. They stare long and hard until Viola casts her sights away. "I am going to the privy." Standing, she swiftly departs the chamber, leaving an incredibly confused and frustrated Natsuki alone.
Closing the door after her, Viola leans against the wall until sliding downwards. Squatting, she hides her face within her hands and releases a breath of tension. That has been close.
Alas this has opened the floodgates, for it's obvious they yearn for each other.
VI • CM Wigesdæg of Ærraliða
(The 6th Day Before-Mild, Warrior's Day, 900)
Natsuki's sabre goes flying out of her grip as it is masterfully parried by Viola.
"Again." The Arcewælcyrge demands, standing her full height to await her.
It is now the next morning and they are sparring at the rear of the villa. Tensions are still agonisingly high. So much so that Natsuki can hardly look at Viola. Last night will not shift from her mind. The sounds, actions and feelings have melded together, forming a baffling tempest of cravings.
Viola herself though…
Natsuki stoops down to retrieve her blade, stealing a glance at the Arcewælcyrge. It is clear she is struggling just as much, if not greater.
"Practise your swings."
Purposefully Viola is bossing her around.
Gripping her sabre's hilt, Natsuki faces her once more and releases a pent up breath. Initiating another round, she arcs the blade overhead, hers bouncing from off Viola's. She manages this only for a few successions until Viola circles her. Confused, she follows her lead, but this is for null.
An upwards slash to her blade makes her stumble backwards and land heavily. Before she can even muster what happened, Viola aims her blade at her face.
"Stop distrusting yourself, it will get you killed."
She is too aggressive.
Natsuki swallows nervously. 'How am I supposed to learn like this?!'
"Arcewælcyrge?" Their focus is cast towards the pathway leading towards the road. There, the Grand Chevalier, Fiar Grosse stands. "The scout from Her Majesty, Queen Rosalie XIX's encampment has just arrived." Lifting her armet's visor, her voice is now lucid. "He says our agents have spotted Yatagarasu in Galleria along the Florentine Alps."
"Notify the Arles Guard immediately, I will be there shortly."
"A-ah." Natsuki scrambles up, quickly following after Viola as Fiar departs. "I'm coming with you this time."
Palm upon the backdoor's handle, Viola regards her.
"Please. What if Steinberg attacks again?"
"I am taking you with me, do not worry." Viola sighs, opening the door and heading for the bedroom. "You are to follow my every command. Understand?" — 'Because if anyone harms Natsuki, that person will experience a most brutal end.'
"Y-yeah."
"Start equipping your armour. I will help you once I have finished myself."
Natsuki admits it. She is terrified, nervous and excited all at once.
Is Viola starting to see her as her equal? If so, Natsuki is actually unsure what to think. There are so many complex possibilities this will create and many potential scenarios that scare her.
Does… Does Viola expect her to kill someone?
It is obvious, isn't it? She shakes her head. Eventually she needs to get over that soldier's death. Sooner rather than later.
Back within the bedroom, Natsuki self-consciously turns her back on Viola and starts unthreading her shirt. Though, a genuine question soon comes to mind. "...Does this mean you will take me to more things like this? If that's the case, shouldn't I get more armour?" Only her chest and head are protected with what she currently has.
"Patience is virtue." The Arcewælcyrge is already tugging on her gambeson and painstakingly tying it together. Once this is complete, she then leans downwards to pick up her chest and rear plates.
Natsuki steals a glance at her with mild awe: 'She's fast.' Slipping out of her shirt, Natsuki reaches for her own gambeson. Soon she is overcome with hindrance; there are so many ties that need tightening. Right from the wrists, to the forearms, throat and even to the waist.
At least she can partially armour herself alone, Natsuki supposes. But it definitely doesn't help that Viola is already working on attaching her gorget.
"We shall be taking the horse. It is likely that this expedition will last several days: I will teach you how to ride."
"Huh, really? Do you think we'll have the time?"
"The Florentine Alps on Galleria's side is a few days' trek. We will very likely be travelling through many open fields."
Lands like those in Galleria are perfect for a novice horse rider. This of course heavily depends on whether they get delayed or not.
"It is easier to fasten the upper buckles of the chest and rear plates first." She instructs, observing as Natsuki stares baffled at both pieces on the floor. Fixing her spaulders on next, she hums as she approaches Natsuki from behind. "Do you need help?"
"I—yeah." The younger woman can only admit defeat. Turns out she can't armour herself after all. 'How sad is that?'
Soon, they are both outside the Arles barracks with most of the Arles Guard.
They are currently awaiting the rest to show themselves in the training grounds. Though, Natsuki can't help but sense there is something amiss. Surveying the sandy expanse, the feeling of unease becomes greater as the seconds roll by.
Why?
"...Something's wrong." She murmurs to Viola by her side who is reading a letter.
It almost feels like something—or someone—is watching them. Is it… the Dark Whisperer?
"Such as?" Viola's gaze tracks to her momentarily before returning to the Florentine report. This document details the sightings and damage of Yatagarasu. Gradually she completes the read, her eyes falling to the signature: Rosalie Regina XIX. The Queen's handwriting is immaculate.
"I don't know, I just sense something weird." Natsuki is holding her dark sallet, rotating it thoughtlessly. Before long, she starts getting annoyed at this. Instead, she hangs the helmet by its leather strap across her shoulder.
"Sometimes the mind plays ploys when we are anxious." Viola rolls the letter up and ties its string back around it. She must keep Natsuki calm. They cannot allow the voices—or whatever potentially hounds them—to succeed. "Return this to the Grand Chevalier." She orders a nearby guard.
Her own armet helmet is located at the table beside her. Next to it, is a wooden pail covered by a linen sheet. A simplistic chair and table is soon carted outside by two Arles Guards. Apparently they expect her to sit at it to read. "Hm." She makes an amused noise, turning to the rest of the soldiers who are finally arriving.
"The Cavaliers Royaux has sent word that Yatagarasu has been spotted along the Florentine Alps." She announces above the chatter which quickly wanes. "Half of the Guard shall remain here in Arles' defence with the Captain of the Guard. The other half will travel alongside myself."
Stepping forward, she ushers the soldiers into a queue. "Within the pail on the table are sticks. These sticks correspond with the coloured banners either side of this table. Depending on the colour, wait beside its matching banner."
Word quickly flies through the Arles Guard; nerves and excitement thick within the atmosphere.
Viola meanwhile positions herself beneath the crimson banner, whilst Laura is underneath the azure one. Noticing Natsuki is alone on the side, she signals her over with a wrist flick. "We will be taking two-hundred and fifty soldiers to the Alps."
X • CM Bæþdæg of Ærraliða
(The 10th Day Before-Mild, Bath Day, 900)
Four Days Later
"Finally! My legs feel like they're made from lead." Natsuki complains as she dully lands within frosty grass beside their horse.
At last they've travelled across Galleria to the base of the Florentine Alps. Worse maybe, is the clinging cold. Ah, how Natsuki misses her office radiators…
All around her, the halved Arles force are pitching an encampment by a lake and hillside. Groups of soldiers are moving to and fro, carrying equipment and necessary materials.
"Well…" Viola lifts her armet's visor, hands tightening on the reins as the horse prances a little. "It is not snowing like it did at the Key Shrines." She points out, swinging a leg over her saddle to then hop off. Latching hold of his bridle, Viola then guides him towards the free roaming horses. "You were miserable back then."
"Don't remind me." But, the closer they get to the Alps, the cooler it becomes. Natsuki cringes at the fact, hugging herself in exchange of minuscule warmth.
Within the grand clearing they are situated, an icy mist has overtaken the horizon. Peeping from the clouds, the distant Florentine Alps are witnessed. It is a gargantuan mountain range of snow which'd make anyone feel akin to a pin. Nature truly is magnificent. "I can eat a horse."
'Preferably not ours.' Viola eyes her quietly, a small smile pulling her lips, her mind straying faintly.
In the early hours a Florentine scout had caught up with them. He had declared that Yatagarasu had headed south—closer to their position–so they made chase. She has predicted that their forces will meet around this location in due course. The local hillside will make an excellent vantage point as they await the Cavaliers Royaux.
"I must check that the Guard and siege weapons are accounted for." Viola states as she removes the stallion's bridle so he too can join the others. He immediately trots towards the group, soon transitioning into a gallop.
They watch him go for a time until Viola returns her focus to Natsuki. "Afterwards, we shall eat and then I shall teach you to ride, just as I promised."
Her eyes move to the horizon… How odd. For the briefest of moments, she witnessed the Moon within the skylit horizon. It is neither morning nor afternoon: What a peculiar event.
Scene III. Parts I-III: Noah — Awaken the Mythology. Noah ft.大瀬良あい — Sasanqua & Starcluster.
It is dead into the night when Natsuki is disturbed from her light slumber.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she wearily eyes Viola's back from the other bedroll.
Prising herself upwards, she watches as fires blazes to life outside their tent. Dozens of braziers are being rekindled and shouts start reverberating across the land.
Guiding her hand towards Viola's shoulder, she is about to awaken her, but is instead startled.
The Arcewælcyrge shoots up, momentarily just as confused as Natsuki. Are they under attack? "Natsuki, bring your sword and come with me." She quickly shoves on her boots and laces them together, swiftly exiting the tent moment's later.
Outside might as well be Armageddon for a dozen bandits of unknown origin ransacking the encampment. "Remember what I have taught you." She is horrifically calm.
The Arcewælcyrge after all, is a master at neutralising them.
Suddenly, a multitude of the Guard bounds to them, surrounding the Wælcyrgan with their backs facing them.
The invading brigands are small in number, but their ambush has cost them greatly already. Viola spots at least twenty—no—several others are within the darkness.
«Позовите лидера!» One of them cries, charging forth with a rusty old shashka sword. The heavily furred assailant is swiftly cut down by one of the larger guards. Sliced through the jugular and shoulder, a gut-wrenching gurgling follows suit, his body crashing into mud.
His comrades hesitate before taking the offensive, yells pouring from their throats.
"Take those follies down!" Viola shouts above the chaos, checking on Natsuki beside her. The former Ánhere holds her sabre unsheathed, having thrown the scabbard aside. She does the same, forcing a smile at her before jumping into action. "Protect her!"
The Arles Guard swiftly closes in on Natsuki as Viola clashes her sabre with a brigand. He stumbles fast, but quickly regains his footing, returning the favour of combating the Arcewælcyrge.
This is too much. Natsuki spins around just in time to be flanked by two bandits. Her heart skips a beat so harshly, that she feels pain. Or, twas she hurt? No matter, she hasn't the time to worry about that, veering away from the first man.
'Don't think about him. Do. Not. Do. It.' She commands herself internally. A bead of sweat rolls down her temple with stress. It is a miracle such an ability can be mustered within this frosty climate.
Thus, with the chilled air upon her skin, Natsuki realises her reality. Tonight she will either survive or be slain.
Striking forth clumsily, her blade scrapes across the first adversary's shashka. His swings are so wild and strong that it rapidly dismantles her confidence. Once, twice, thrice, quadrice—no, quince—she parries every hit until she no longer can.
Where is the Arle—? As the snow starts falling she sees it before experiencing the throbbing sting. Blood spurts from her left forearm, nearly making her drop the blade. Mercifully this is naught, as something fiery triggers within Natsuki's psyche. A hidden strength she does not know she possesses activates: It drives her to thrust forward, impaling her sabre straight through the assailent's torso.
Gagging initiates before blood ruptures from the man's throat, his hand weakly grasping the blade.
She is not aware of the mysterious Ardour she consumes; its energy materialising upon his death.
What she does not realise is this is her Wælcyrge nature taking hold. She has stolen the soul of that brigand.
Blood splattered and heaving, Natsuki glares at her next enemy—the last man standing, it so happens. "Back off, you bastard!" She spits at him, the corpse before her stealing her sword as it falls. All around them, the Arles Guard—and an incredibly furious Viola—encircles him.
The soldiers seem to sense Viola's anger and quickly manoeuvre backwards, giving her space. The last brigand turns his head, having detected her—too late. His end is a dagger thrust inside the gut. His intestines and other innards are minced upon the blade's twist.
B-but… isn't that… his? Where has she—He collapses feet from his partner, their blood oozing to form a puddle.
Momentarily, all is silent as Viola glares at the men.
Seconds. Seconds! Within a minute instant, Natsuki had almost died. She had been a fool to trust a city militia.
The Arcewælcyrge internally kicks herself, hurrying to her former Ánhere. "Natsuki!" Delicately grasping her bleeding forearm, she does not immediately notice the bleeding. That fury returns—though it is well disguised indeed. "...Are you alright?" Her voice strains faintly. "They did not harm you any further, did they?"
Natsuki can only stare after her Wælcyrge, before blinking to refocus herself. "Huh, yeah." She pains a whisper, gaze wandering along her gory limb. The argent cloth has long since stained crimson by around three inches. In mild shock, she clings her arm against her torso. "A-actually, I feel sick."
"Patrol the area and slaughter anyone in sight." Viola declares to the relatively unwounded Arles Guard.
They have failed to protect Natsuki—she has failed. They will be trained to hell and back for this upon their return… Or, if they do?
Turning her attention fully to Natsuki, she ushers her towards a tent. This one is located on the opposite end of the encampment. "Lift your arm above your head and squeeze hard. It will hurt but it should prevent you from bleeding faster."
'Oh, isn't that grand.' Natsuki exhaled shakily, obeying the Arcewælcyrge's command.
Once entering the tent, Natsuki sits down on a stool beside a narrow table. Here an assortment of primitive medical supplies are. There are linen sheets, needles, threads, herbal remedies, to leeches. Natsuki's face scrunches up in disgust at the leech jar, watching the slimy things slither across the glass.
"Pull up your sleeve."
Beneath the table is a bucket of water with a pile of fabrics. Viola kneels before her, reaching for a cloth then soaking it within water. "Unfortunately I doubt I can Spirit Mend well anymore." Ever since her Psychic Coma, something has gone dreadfully wrong. What that is, is unknown. "But, nevertheless—" She looks up at Natsuki who flinches as she presses the cloth atop her wound. "—I am so proud of you, Natsuki. You defended yourself remarkably well."
Natsuki can only grunt in response, evidently in pain. She looks elsewhere, gaze instead locking upon the blood drenching Viola's front and cheek. Natsuki has only just noticed it thanks to the lantern within the tent. Heart skipping a beat, she grit her teeth as Viola's hand captured hers.
"I must stitch it back together."
Wait, she's doing it?! The former Ánhere would have panicked, but that hand reaching for the supplies, halts. Alternatively, it moves to Natsuki's chest, landing upon the breastbone. "Relax. I will do this as quickly as I am able to."
A small glass bottle is retrieved and uncorked. It contains some mysterious clear liquid within it—alcohol? Natsuki eyes the substance suspiciously—and she is right in doing so. The moment it greets her forearm, an unimaginable burning consumes her.
The bottle is nearly thrown out of Viola's grip at that moment.
Only just managing to catch it, she puts it aside on the table. "It is alcohol, it shall help kill—" Natsuki hitting the table with her free fist momentarily silences her.
"Y-you could've warned me it'd sting like a bitch!" Natsuki laments, her entire body shaking.
"You know that will not have helped any." Viola emphasises, sinking the reddened cloth back into the bucket. There it is squeezed of excess water, soon returning to Natsuki's wound. "Natsuki, listen to me." Viridian eyes lock to hers hazily. "I will need to stitch your wound, it is too large to be left alone."
"I-isn't there a doctor?" She huffs out painfully, eyes once again veering to squeeze shut. She props her other elbow onto the table, hand tightly clenching by her brow. What she does not realise she is doing, is unconsciously tense her other arm. An awful pain ripples through the limb, causing her to freeze.
"I do not trust anyone else here to treat you." Viola whispers darkly, sliding a strip of wood towards her. "That wood will stop you from biting your own tongue."
Oh, sweet Gods', have mercy! This is far worse than the Windbloom Catacombs. Is it the 'medication', the lack of spells, or the anticipation? Mayhaps it's everything all at once? What are seconds feels like aeons to Natsuki as she frightfully witnesses Viola's next move: Reaching for the needle and thread.
"I will do what I must." The Arcewælcyrge speaks, examining her carefully. There is a genuine risk that Natsuki will simply lash out from the pain and cause worse injury. She releases a tense breath, nostrils picking up the intense scent of iron.
"Arcewælcyrge." An Arles Guard ducks into the tent just as the needle hovers millimetres from Natsuki's skin. Both women sucked in a breath, Viola in response turning her head to glare at him. The man visibly shrinks in fear, lips momentarily quivering.
"I-I— I'm sorry. A bandit was just killed right now. He is carrying a ciphered note." He quickly dismisses himself, leaving the two alone.
"...Blasted fool." Viola hisses, now feeling at a loss. No, this isn't the time. Crimson eyes pull upwards to Natsuki who stares elsewhere. "I am sorry for this, Natsuki."
Later, once the pain has ebbed some, Natsuki rests her head against the table.
That has been terrible. Sweating, she heaves herself up to smear her free hand down her burning face. Immediately another wave of nausea impacts. Sinking back down, she sags against the table with exhaustion.
This week feels as though she is a sailor stuck within a waterspout. Honestly. Natsuki has trouble recollecting just how chaotic it has been.
From arriving in Arles, they had…—what? Met the Queen of Florence, been attacked by Yatagarasu, and now ambushed by bandits? But… Natsuki's gaze creeps back towards Viola, watching her from out of the corner of her eye.
The Arcewælcyrge is now wrapping a roll of linen around her forearm. The action is so delicate she didn't notice at first, double-taking when she glances her way. Staring, Natsuki's heart skips a beat. She is caring for her so exquisitely, almost as if a lover. "Thanks." She blunders, exchanging a look with the Arcewælcyrge now.
"Does it hurt any?" Receiving a hesitant shake of the head, Viola hums, standing to her full height. "Are you able to stand?"
"...Not really." Came the fragile reply, Viola passing a quizzical look in response. "Feel sick." The former Ánhere bows her head. Ah, that explained it.
After a moment, Natsuki examines Viola's work.
She has done a marvellous job, miraculously. There is a small blemish of blood upon the bandage already. Morbidly curious suddenly, she gently prods this area, wincing.
"You should not poke it." Viola rebukes, gently hitting the hand away from the injury. "Remain here while I replace this water." She stoops down to pick up the pail, slipping out of the tent after.
Silence greeting her, Natsuki tucks her wounded arm within her lap. The ambush flashes before her eyes, showing the lifeless corpse of her adversary. He transforms into the innocent Knight, making her frown a little. It does not affect her like it used to. Actually—she thinks back further to Saint Vlas. Neither does that hallucinatory horse terrify her anymore?
Where is that Key, anyway?
Maybe…maybe she is becoming desensitised?
The minutes roll by until Viola returns with fleshly changed water.
Natsuki gets off the stool hesitantly, keeping her bandaged arm close to her torso. "I should be okay now." Natsuki forces a lopsided smile. Though, the rest of her energy reserves have been burned now. After a moment, she recognises that Viola is staring at her.
They remain within this staring contest for a time, thus Natsuki's mind strays. It returns to their final night in the villa and an intense blush overwhelms her. Ceaseless frustration emits, causing her to hurriedly exited the tent.
"Ah, Natsuki? Wait—"
Wandering towards the haphazard corpses, Natsuki halts before the bandit she had slain earlier.
Behind her, Viola is intercepted by the Arles Guard, one offering the note they have found.
Natsuki meanwhile eyes the man strewn before her, the sabre still impaled within his chest.
Conflict, desire and fear all morph together at once, forming obscene nonsense. Why has she come to stare at a corpse being buried by snow? It makes no sense.
Next, her eyes harden upon backtracking to the ambush. This time she has killed a person without restraint nor mercy. Should she be worried she does not care? There is no excuse—she's exactly like Viola, correct? That vigour as well… is that the life energy in which a Wælcyrge steals upon slaughtering their foes?
No. She experienced nothing from this. Gaze raising, she looks to the hillside.
Beyond the frosty mist, an armada of infantry scale the highland. That… There are no signs of the Florentine banner. Worse, it is impossible to fathom how many there are. "Am—" Her throat catches. "—Ambush!"
The Arles Guard and Viola look to her, clearly alarmed before setting sights on the hill.
Some drop their weapons, others attempt to run. Who can blame them? Afterall, in the grand scheme of things, they are a mere assortment of militia. They can handle a small band and defend battlements, but this?
Viola raises her voice, stilling the Arles Guard: "Gather the horses and mount! The Cavaliers Royaux is still on their way. I doubt their scouts have left this army unnoticed!"
Several pause cautiously, others running straight for their horses.
W-what are they going to do? Panic wells within Natsuki, realising her wound makes her practically useless. Dread sets in before the confusion, the army descending the hill at a march. They aren't attacking? The others notice this as well, looking to the Arcewælcyrge for further instruction.
How in the Gods' names is Viola supposed to tactician this? She is no General of Remus, neither is she an oracle with psychic abilities. "Mount the horses and come to me!" Viola again raises her voice, striding to Natsuki's side and grasping her uninjured limb. "We cannot fight them, neither can we run. We must face them peacefully." She hushes quietly, keeping the younger woman still. "Those banners belong to Altay."
It is incredibly difficult to spot them—it's a miracle she can even see them at all.
Natsuki squints towards the marching army, only now spotting the banners. A stylised side profile black bear is atop a white background. Tugged, her attention snaps from the descending infantry, and moves towards the horses. They are quickly being rounded up by the Arles Guard and mounted. Luckily—in spite of their situation—theirs is brought to them by a soldier.
"Help the others round up their horses." Viola nods to the mounted guard who holds their horse's reins as well. He salutes once the horse is taken, turning his own and kicking it.
"H-how… How are you so calm?" Natsuki askes as the soldier departs, changing her focus to the army. Their boots resound across the field as they get closer. Only now does she ascertain a single horseman—he?—leads this military; black armour glowing within torchlight.
By Earl, what manner of weapon is that? Is that a claymore? A touch to her shoulder startles her, making Natsuki look upwards to Viola. She has already mounted the horse.
"I am not calm." The Arcewælcyrge smiles. "Head for the others and tell them to not follow."
"W-wait, you're going alone?!" Before Natsuki can reason with her, Viola ushers her horse into a trot. She's crazy!
"Are you alright?" The black horseman asks upon noticing the blood all over Viola. He motions his army to halt and reins his horse forward.
"Yes." Viola says after a pause, having not expected the concern. Oh, right. She is covered in blood… "Were you chasing these brigands?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I apologise that we did not make it sooner, otherwise this—" He stretches an arm out towards the encampment and nervous Arles Guard. "—would not have happened. I—" Behind him the impossible happens.
The snowy horizon materialises into something else entirely. Astronomical plains of stars, nebulae and astral bodies pollute the skies behind him. Solely him, too. Viola's brows lower faintly in response; what in the Gods' names?
"—am the master of this army which derives from the Golden Mountains of Altay. Tell me—"
Consequently, the astral bodies are horrifically familiar, for they are one of the same. Earth and Earl's Moons. Beside both are the piercing Adminstars.
"—where is the Rose Queen?
Words bidden but not totally digested, Viola speechlessly stares through him. This man who dons a great claymore upon his back is awfully familiar. Where has she… "I… have not seen the Queen of Florence." She half lies, staring directly into eye-shaped ocularums. 'What an oddly beautiful but terrifying helmet indeed!'
The black Knight wears a cone helm that ends in bands of scale. A golden face visor cloaks any identity he may have already betrayed. Alas… for the aggressive delusion returns tenfold.
A foreboding migraine overcomes Viola's psyche, transforming the Knight into a distorted mist—by Gods', she—now she recognises him. A multitude of memories come spiralling back, making her knees weak. T-this… this is…
"Ic wæs Dryhten Dofung noma." The dark entity hisses at her, full of rage.
"You are…" She whispers.
The man before her comes from her existence. He is responsible for everything: The dismantling of Earth, everyone's death, Yukariko's rape—the creation of otherworldly dimensions.
Yet still? Still! Is she going mad?
Is this nary an illusion of a demon pretending to be someone else? Mayhaps she truly is insane… for has this creature been stalking her since Arles now?
Woefully, the Arcewælcyrge does not know as her mental health plummets…
"I am the Lord of Frenzy."
PART I COMPLETE
Firen Peuma
(Torment's Origin)
A/N: Thus, the prologue is done—yes, you read that correctly.
Honestly. This chapter's timeline has changed about three times now. In fact, I'm still a little unsure about it. There's been a lot of things I've been planning here alongside accidentally foreshadowing events. The latter has been getting ludicrous lately. So much so that I've noticed five events foreshadowed in only a few chapters (without meaning to!).
Anyhow, I've been attempting to improve my writing recently; particularly emotional descriptions and sensory events. I've always had issues with prioritising what characters see and forget the other senses exist. Hopefully it reads better here.
I'm hoping the next chapter will be ready for Christmas, but I can't promise anything.
