Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 29-04-23.
Chapter XXII's Theme — Satella: Noblesse Oblige.
VIII • CMI Mynetdæg of Ærra Geola
(The 8th Day of Preceding Yuletide, Coin Day, 901)
After what felt like an eternity, they have finally arrived.
Viola sighs atop her stallion, sweeping her gaze along the Witch's residence. It has been a tiresome journey. The weather and terrain have seemingly done its best to be a hindrance. But mayhaps worse, is the creeping discomfort she's started feeling.
Something… isn't right. Raising her hand, she signals for the halved Arles force to halt. Yonside herself were her two new Hauscarlas: Takeda and Carla.
The reason only half of them were here is due to siege preparations. She had personally commanded Captain Bianchi to protect Natsuki within the Sprites' Forest. Because Gods', if she didn't… Death would be a respite for Bianchi if anything happens.
Hopping down from her horse and landing into mud, ricocheting droplets went everyplace. The foreboding feeling isn't subsiding—rather, it's getting worse.
Edging towards the Witch's front door, she aims her shoulder at it and listens carefully: No movement nor a whisper could be hearkened. Magic? Or… No. She senses nothing amiss there.
Creeping the door open, it creaks harshly within the silence, making everyone wince. But, what she beholds within this parlour isn't emptiness.
"…Tomoe?" She breathes, expression transforming into horror. Before her, a fully armoured Tomoe is towering over a gored bandit. Yukino meanwhile, is within a far corner, appearing shaken. "What happened?"
CHAPTER XXII
Yfelic Trega
(Direful Grief)
'I suppose I ought to get back.' Natsuki muses whilst on the outskirts of the encampment.
Sitting at a cliff edge, she peers down at a stream. It is perhaps a foot wide; the water trickling past pebbles and dirt. As she listlessly marvels at this stream, she cannot fathom how exhausted she is.
Siege encampments truly are something else entirely. In the space of four months, she has worked more jobs than some of her lifetimes. Messenger, stocktaker, cook, forager, builder, patroller, tactician… The list goes on.
Excruciatingly, one thing has turned into another. They have been here for so long because of so many intricate necessities. Neither has she managed to speak with Viola much who is still travelling.
Breathing a weary sigh, she looks skywards to the Moon.
This has been one of the most tiring events of her entire existence—maybe others. Though the encampment is shrouded within the forest, every person did laborious watch shifts. Even Natsuki had partaken on top of those mentioned duties. Only ten or so minutes ago she had finished her Night Watch, in fact.
"There you are!" Laura rounds a dreary tree as she approaches. "I was starting to think you had run off!" She exclaimed, exacerbated.
Huh? Natsuki peers at her expressionless before wrinkling her nose. "Where would I even go?"
She has a point, Laura supposes. "Come, else the Arcewælcyrge will flay me alive if I lose you." Laura is unable to suppress a shiver—the action disguised by the brisk wind. 'The Arcewælcyrge said she'd hang and quarter me from the Palace walls if Natsuki's harmed.'
Though lost and injured are two very different things, they may as well be identical. Viola is a formidable woman; one Laura feared greatly, actually. There is something about her—something wrong. Yet she couldn't quite place her finger on why that is.
Oh, isn't she right. Natsuki winced, having neither the heart nor the energy to confirm the Captain is correct.
Though it is nightfall, a bustle of activity swirls around them. All manner of things are happening; from discussion, washing, armour repair, fencing—even to people-watching. Bypassing a multitude of rickety huts, Laura said: "The scouts came back moments ago. There's bodies everywhere across the field, and Altain banners have been spotted."
What? Natsuki frowned. Did they literally just butt-rush inside and seize the Palace with no tactics at all? "Do we have an estimate on the numbers? Were any survivors seen?"
"Nothing was mentioned, but I expect the worst." Laura guided her further into camp, heading for the tent HQ. Stooping as she enters, she goes to the central table. Hereupon it is a large hand-drawn map detailing the local area. "It seems that recent water damage has weakened this wall here." The Captain directed an index finger towards it, her free hand reaching for the table's lantern. Several lines of red ink have been slashed across this area, making Natsuki curious.
"The lines—" Natsuki leaned faintly into the oak table, pointing there as well. "—do they mean this side will be attacked?" Hadn't this also been the wall Natsuki had "inspected" for Armitage?
"Potentially. It faces the side of the forest which was obliterated by the firewurm."
That event had felt like aeons ago. Natsuki's jaw slackened minutely, reminiscing on Viola's condition. She had not perished to Kagutsuchi. In a few ways, it had even improved their relationship—but in consequence, had fueled their attraction. The bathhouse to this day still twisted something keenly within her chest. A thing both irresistible and daunting. Natsuki admitted she knew what it is—lust—but hells! Her head couldn't make up its mind.
"Wælcyrge?"
Natsuki lifted her gaze, eyes locking with Laura's. "Sorry." She gruffly spoke, not really sure what to say. For two days she had been plunged into semi-leadership. What on Earl are they thinking, making her partially in charge? "Are we getting reinforcements from Wind City?"
"I do not know. The messenger hasn't returned yet." It's probable that he's actually gone missing. The city is ultimately a few hours' ride from their position. It's been a day already. "Should I fetch the others?" Laura suggested, implying the need for the temporary Hauscarlas.
"Yeah." Natsuki nodded after a minute pause. As Laura exited the tent, Natsuki exhaled a drawn out sigh. The only reason she hadn't yet snapped is due to her experience at Garderobe. That only went so far; this is a mediaeval siege—far beyond any seasoned Meister Otome. That time is long gone… Natsuki glared down at the map before her, scanning along the intricate encampment details and topography.
They flickered within the lantern flame, casting a shadow along the forest like a foreboding swarm. Dead-set dread plunged within her soul at the sight and she did not know why. Something is… wrong. Voices murmuring outside the tent distracted her, and in came the others.
"Captain, I think we should send another messenger." Yuuichi said, removing his helm and holding it in front of his chest. "The Arles Guard is getting frustrated already." They couldn't hide here all week, but neither could they attack. It would be complete suicide. After all, they are a mere militia.
"Yes, you're right." Laura sighed, allowing Yuuichi to brush past. She pulled the tent's cover over her arm, giving space for Kazuya who next entered. Within his arms is a large crate which he carefully set onto the grass by the table. "Did you manage to find everything?" She asked down to the man who knelt beside it, rummaging inside the contents.
"One of the Guadeloupe maps is missing. I couldn't find the poisons either—" Poisons? Natsuki frowned. "—Maybe we left them at Arles?"
"No, I remember specifically asking for those." Laura brushed her gloved knuckles to her lips, her other arm folded around her stomach. "I made sure that they were brought with us right away." So where on Earl were they? "Ask the hunters if they're using it."
Bears were within the area, so it is possible the poison stocks had gone there. Diminishing the local predator population is a hunter's duty. The less predators, the more food for themselves. Twas convenient indeed, given siege encampments stripped areas of natural resources. Even ones as small as theirs.
Kazuya nodded, raising from the crate and dismissing himself.
"Wælcyrge—" "—Natsuki." "...Natsuki." The Captain paused at the instantaneous correction. "The Arcewælcyrge mentioned there are access tunnels in Guadeloupe. Do you know of any?"
"Only a few." She watched Laura retrieve a quill, inkwell and musty map from the crate. The latter is an outdated layout of Guadeloupe Palace, perhaps from Arcewælcyrge Graceburt's time.
"Most of this section—" Laura pointed to a dead space. "—was only built recently. Luckily that's where the barracks and stables are, so it's not needed." Uncorking the inkwell, she slid the glass towards Natsuki. "I would like you to mark where the secret routes are. They will be potentially useful down the line."
That is true, but… Natsuki's brow furrowed as she took the quill delicately. "What if I am wrong?" The Captain held the rolling map down for her, scribbling down locations carefully.
"Arcewælcyrge Viola said she is bringing the contact who knows these routes better than anyone. We will have them double checked later."
Still though, why ask her if Tomoe's coming? Laura seemed to read her mind, continuing:
"It's better to have this information—even if small—in case the worst happens." Still.
Skywards, the horizon is blanketed within darkness as the sun starts setting. Another two days will pass until Viola's party finally arrives.
X • CMI Sunnandæg of Ærra Geola
(The 10th Day of Preceding Yuletide, Sun's Day, 901)
"Is it raining?" Viola hovers her palm to the heavens, feeling droplets hit along her skin. Seems it is.
Somehow they had avoided rainfall for a few days now. Though this certainly had not aided their troubles. The entirety of her halved militia were on horseback. The dense overgrowth of the Sprites' and Kazahana Forests were simply troublesome to traverse on horseback.
But at last they were minutes from the encampment, bypassing trees, roots and other obstacles.
"Of course it is." A voice sighs beside her—Takeda's. "Even if it isn't, I'm half expecting it. This country is seemingly just rainy!" He laments miserably.
Viola vaguely smiled at the complaint, wondering how much it rained in Galleria. "Does it rain much in Arles?" Thinking about it, it had rained maybe once or twice when she had been there.
"It snows. Not as much as Florence, but that place is just depressing."
"You're overreacting." Carla muttered.
"I'm not cold inclined!" Takeda protested.
The sun is rising and peeks above the canopy of the forest. Momentarily blinded, Viola leads them into an opening where the encampment is located. It is much larger than Viola anticipated.
A multitude of the Wind Army had arrived. There were perhaps… seven or eight-hundred at the encampment. She hazards the numbers calculatingly, gaze sweeping here and there. No, this isn't enough.
There were campsites, wooden huts and sparse tents littered all across the area. Though their numbers were relatively small, this encampment is a miniature town. "Tomoe." She summoned her former partner to her side. Saddled behind Tomoe is a cloaked Yukino, the Witch studying their surroundings apprehensively. "Go and detail the situation to the others further down. Tell them to keep following." Tomoe nodded, leaving them.
"Everyone looks so tired." Carla commented.
"Have you ever participated in a siege?" Viola asked her, the Hauscarle shaking her head. "Everyone works full days with little rest. No matter who or what you are, you take your quarter in supporting the army. Our arrival will relieve these ones here, but only temporarily."
Eventually they make it to the centre of camp where the HQ tent resides. Just in time since Tomoe has returned. "Thank you, Tomoe." Viola smiles. "I would like yourself and Yukino to join me in the tent—Hauscarlas, find work for the Arles Guard."
The Arcewælcyrge dismounts her stallion which swiftly gets taken away. Without delay, she pushes towards the HQ tent. "I still think it's not going to work." Natsuki's voice crept from within, making Viola stop in her tracks. "At most there's about one thousand of us. The estimated number Altay has is—what? Eight-thousand?" Laura's is the next to sound: "That and the Wind Army weren't able to bring siege weaponry. All we have is a battering ram falling to pieces!"
Casually entering, Viola paused at the sight. Natsuki and Laura's backs faced her, the two leaning over the tabled map. "Are the undead really in Wind?" Natsuki scratched her cheek through a nervous habit. "...That guy we caught too. He's raving mad. What the hell's going on in there?" Sighing tiredly, she turned around, nearly jumping out of her skin upon the sight of Viola. When did she get here?! "Vio—"
"—Good morning." Viola grinned, unable to stop momentary smirk upon Natsuki's surprise. Laura is the next to turn, blinking with mild surprise.
"Arcewælcyrge." She nodded. Her eyes leaping to the two women behind Viola, the notion caught by Viola.
"This is Tomoe and Yukino, the contacts I mentioned at Arles." She introduced, the Witch meekly lowering her hood to bow her head.
"Hello. I will be your advisor in the occult practices."
Tomoe meanwhile didn't need to introduce herself as Laura easily recognised her. "Oh, you're the former Ánhere, aren't you?" Laura nodded in regard to Yukino, trying to bite back her obvious surprise. She had mildly suspected this but had still not expected it to be Tomoe. She had only heard through passing reports that the Arcewælcyrge had a new Ánhere. This of course being… "Natsuki, let's take a break from tactics? Catch up with the Arcewælcyrge and Tomoe for a while?"
Once Laura had dismissed herself, Natsuki wandered to a nearby stool and heavily sat herself down. A drawn out sigh escaped from the Wælcyrge, followed by a yawn. "What held you up?"
"Bandits, I am afraid." Viola murmured, heading further inside and leaning the small of her back against the table. Facing Natsuki, she looked to Tomoe and Yukino who remained idle at the entrance. "I was hoping we could go over the siege details, but that will have to wait. Tomoe, Yukino, go and rest." Once they were alone, Viola studied Natsuki soundlessly. How curious. Natsuki looked older, like she had filled out mentally. She had substantially grown since last she saw her. The Wælcyrge donned her dark gambeson and cuirass—she looked the part indeed.
"What happened?" Natsuki asked after a moment, rubbing her eyes. To the purest amount, Natsuki looked like the definition of fatigue.
"...It would seem that bandits had discovered Yukino's location. We cannot fathom how nor who they were. The wretches seem to be everywhere these days." Viola crossed her arms loosely, crimson gaze falling groundwards. "They all died without confession."
Natsuki winced at that, knowing fully well that meant torture. "Is that why the communication rune is failing?"
"Yes and no." Natsuki peered at her, confused. "We think when I attempted calling at Arles, the bandits had made their initial assault. Due to the nature of that place, the connection should have been automatic though." Mayhaps something is wrong with the leylines? Ardour as well; it seemed different. Looking at Natsuki, she could still sense a vague ardour radiating from her. "When did you last sleep?"
Natsuki shrugged, scrunching up her face slightly. "Yesterday? I have no idea."
Pushing from the table, Viola straightened to her full height. "Come, where is your tent?"
"Huh—"
"—Do not give me that look." Viola momentarily studied her, gesturing for Natsuki to lead her. "You have been nonstop, no?"
"It's true." Natsuki sighed. But so had the Arcewælcyrge. "The Captain's been relentless. I'm no tactician."
Though, judging by that map, Natsuki is clearly wrong. Viola gazed upon it, musing. "...Yet I see your writing on that parchment, what does it say?"
"Just ideas."
"About?"
"Stocktaking, nutrition, natural resources, siege plans, soldiers, escape routes, battlement weakness…" Natsuki listed them off.
"Are you responsible for all of that? Were they all your ideas?"
"Well yeah, but—"
"—You are far more of a leader than you think, Natsuki."
Still though. Natsuki frowned but didn't fight her, voiceless as she followed her outside. It is starting to rain hard now, the soil beneath their feet transforming into mud. She rushed to her tent which is nestled between other officials' tents, slipping inside quickly. Here is her bedroll with a simplistic table and stool. Atop the table were medicine, bandages and her sallet. "I'm experienced in Otome warfare—soldiers who can fly."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Of course it is!" Natsuki retorted, spinning around, soaked hair ricocheting raindrops. "I could just order a single Otome to lay siege to Guadeloupe! Everything would be over within minutes!" But this? This! It is a disaster. There were no openings nor means of penetration.
That amount of power which Natsuki had held sounded terrifying. Viola hummed. "No matter. Even if you believe yourself to be inadequate, I do not. It seems the Captain does not either." She added: "I must admit it was a risk to leave you here, but I needed someone I could trust." Observing the look of disbelief, she forced a smile. "You are pushing yourself far too much, Natsuki." Much like the Natsuki from her previous existence.
"Don't I know it." Natsuki grumbled.
"I must fill in reports." Viola revealed. "May I use your table?" A slow nod is received. "I would also like you to sleep in the meantime." She knew the answer she would receive, interrupting the Wælcyrge flawlessly. "I will take over your duties. Remember that you were standing in for me." Obviously Natsuki didn't have a choice. But—ah. "One more thing." Her Wælcyrge paused, fingertips upon the buckles of her chestplate. "How is your wound? I would like to see it." Viola glanced at the medicine and bandages, noticing the supplies dwindling. Had she remembered to treat her stitches?
Natsuki mumbled softly, placing her wet cuirass pieces onto the ground. "I forgot sometimes. I've just been so busy." Viola stepped before Natsuki, taking her left forearm gently. "I did as you said; soak the medicine into the bandages."
Viola hummed in acknowledgement, unthreading the ties on her gambeson's sleeve. "I see there is also a washing basin." It is within the corner. "Have you managed to wash it appropriately?" A silent nod is her only reply as she pushes the thick material from blemished linen. It is no longer bleeding which is a good sign. Undoing the knot, Viola then unwrapped it. The wound has scabbed over, leaving a thick ridge against pale skin. This will become evident scarring down the line. "Does it still hurt?" She asked, trailing her rough thumb across stitching. Upon the flinch, the question is answered wordlessly. But what Viola did not realise, is the gasp is not from pain.
"Yeah, ah—it feels better."
Later that day, the rain had subsided.
Natsuki is in the central area sitting upon a stool by the communal campfire. Mutely she stares at their captured soldier tied to a stake. Currently, he is screaming his little head off. "Release me you fucks!" He spits, his accent so thick Natsuki had trouble understanding him. Oh, how she wished she couldn't at all. "The others—they rescue me! Soon!" Sure. Natsuki boredly eyed the man, turning her attention to the officials. They were all huddled around the burning embers, eating what little meat they had managed to hunt.
"I wish he'd shut up." Takeda muttered.
"I already offered him food, he just glared death at me." Yuuichi wryly stated. "Besides, more for us."
"True, true."
Natsuki placed her rabbit on the wooden plate atop her thighs. Carefully she started dislocating its legs. The bones were so fragile that it mildly scared her. How could an animal have such powerful yet weak limbs? The thought made her lose track of reality. In a way, these tiny bones symbolised their flimsy mortality. She had heard the Arles Guard talking about it—something called wyrd.
It is a terrifying concept in which three norns control fate. 'That which has become, is in process of becoming, and should be.' She mouthed the words voicelessly. By Windbloom belief, everyone is controlled by their own history. This expanded generationally as well. Thanks to the smallest mistake an ancestor created, it would spell ruin for their family. Some noble castes had been censored from history because of this—many for good reason, but others for not.
Even as a Wælcyrge, she cannot escape wyrd for Arcewælcyrge Shamrock had stained her history. Could Windbloom disown Viola if she personally made a mistake? Natsuki fiddled with a bone, poking the plate with it mindlessly. In this culture, the souls of the departed would enter the eternal void. Here they would become nothingness—unfeeling of every sense, emotion and memory. Quite literally, they would be husks. Yet unlike wyrd, the Wælcyrge escaped this because of Wælheall. It is an unnatural land where time does not exist and the impossible materialises. Or… is that the eternal void?
"Are you listening?!" Their prisoner squawked again, tugging at his bindings.
"Arcewælcyrge, can we gag that idiot?" Takeda sighed, staring discontently at his fire-charred boar. "I think I'm getting a migraine on top of a migraine."
"It would be for the best." Standing, Viola placed her plate atop her stool and approached the enraged soldier. "I will ask only once that you calm yourself." She said coolly. Receiving only a rude glare, she sighed. "I hear that my Hauscarle is attempting to treat you with dignity, but you decided otherwise."
"Fuck off, whore!"
Viola blinked slowly, head tilting faintly. "A whore?" She smiled. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" The man spouted more nonsense, trying to argue about anything and nothing. After a pause, scarlet eyes scoped downwards to the yellow sash wrapping his chestplate.
Well, it couldn't be helped.
Before anyone could react, she swiped the fabric from him and circled the stake. Alas, the soldier swiftly found the sash gagging him, the fabric tightly knotting his head to the stake. "Think of this as a mercy." Viola's tone darkened, eyes piercing the man's soul. "I have killed those who have pushed my patience far less than yourself."
With that, Viola departed, returning to the campfire. Her officials' were totally silent, looking towards the gagged soldier in awe. It is true. Days ago Viola would have simply slaughtered the man. "There is no point in further questioning him, nor do I think torture will suffice. Bribery perhaps, but he will not speak of those desires." Viola revealed, falling quiet as she ate. She could sense the angered soldier's eyes upon her, but simply ignored the gesture.
How annoying.
"Where is the Arcewælcyrge?!" One of the Arles scouts rushes to the encampment on horseback.
Muddied and rain sodden, fellow soldiers pointed the way. His horse weary and anxious, it trotted to the side unsteadily. Finding her outside the HQ tent, his presence quickly snatched her attention. "Arcewælcyrge!" He saluted, out of breath even though his stallion had performed the physical labour. "Guadeloupe Palace is under attack!"
"What?" Viola stared at him apprehensively.
"The undead—hundreds of them!" By now, word is quickly spreading throughout the encampment, many of the soldiers wandering close to listen. "Some are scaling the battlements—I have no idea how, but one of the walls has partially collapsed!"
What in the world? Viola could only stare harder. SLAVEs were only found in specific areas and were usually small in number. "Where have they come from?"
"Wind City." One of their Wind soldiers dreaded, a group of them nodding.
"Wait, what has happened there? Why have I not been notified?" The soldiers quietened, causing Viola's patience to wane. "Tell me. Now."
"T-the undead from the Wind Catacombs rushed to the surface a few days ago." One stuttered, panicking beneath the Arcewælcyrge's glare. "W-we thought it was under control! There is salt, white candles, wards and everything, the nuns—"
"—Simply because it is under control then does not mean it will remain so." The Arcewælcyrge nearly seethed. "Why was I not informed?!" She raised her voice so the others could hear clearly. "Scout." She acknowledged the rider. "Notify the officials to come here at once, it is an emergency." A dire one, at that. Again, why hadn't she been briefed?! Such incompetence!
Within the HQ tent, Viola is pacing as she awaits the others.
This is serious. If the SLAVEs got into contact with any of the magically inept, they would go insane. In fact—Viola paused in stride, staring at the tent wall. If such high numbers were here, Wind would have fallen. Worse yet, the numbers being described weren't within the Catacombs. Unless… Were these bodies that had escaped their graves? Releasing a breath, the Arcewælcyrge slid her hands against her face.
Due to the plague, there were hundreds of mass graves polluting the city.
Her mind returns to the message which Yukino had sent her: A dark presence has entered Windbloom. Has Kanzaki awoken something with his mere arrival? How is that possible?
"Arcewælcyrge?" Captain Bianchi is the first to enter, followed by Natsuki and Kazuya. "What's happened?" She looked paler than a ghost.
"The worst case scenario." As Viola turns, Carla, Yuuichi and Takeda enter next. "Where are Tomoe and Yukino?"
"They were behind us." Yuuichi directed a thumb behind him, the two sure enough arriving.
"The undead are attacking Guadeloupe Palace. We have no estimate on their numbers, but it is obvious they came from Wind." The tent is immediately silent upon this revelation. "Only the magically attuned can interact with the undead. Others go mad from exposure."
"Then…" Kazuya started. "How can we rescue anyone if the undead are at the walls?"
"We cannot. We must wait for the Altain force to kill them, or be killed. But—" Viola's gaze hardened upon musing. "—there is another way."
"Another way?" Carla echoed.
"I am the Arcewælcyrge. I have the power of the Anchor of Manipulation. If there is no other way, I can use it."
Natsuki stared at her in response. She couldn't be serious? Does Viola remember what happened with Kiyohime?
"We must send scouts to the forest edge to record Altai's progress. If they fail, Anchors may be our only option."
"If Altay doesn't fail?" Laura asked this time.
"They will understandably be weakened and suffer from low morale." Viola murmured, circling the table now. "This new advancement might aid us in the long run. Yukino, do you have any recommendations or items of use?"
"A few. Usually the undead are afraid of the sunrise. There is an item in my collection which will help us. Shall I go and retrieve it?"
"Please do. Tomoe, join her." As the pair left, Viola continued: "I would think it is wise to integrate our original plans with this. It means the siege will be much longer, but it is better to be safe than sorry." Once it was only herself and Natsuki left, Viola said: "I am sorry. I might be forced to have you join the battlefield."
Scene III's Theme: Satella: Onslaught.
XVII • CMI Sunnandæg of Ærra Geola
(The 17th Day of Preceding Yuletide, Sun's Day, 901)
One Week Later
Along the forest's treeline, everyone scrambles in panic as a banshee horde charges through the darkness. Transparent yet blacker than the night, the rugous monsters squalled ear-piercing screams. They swirl around the conjoined forces, both evaporating and materialising simultaneously.
"The light!" Yukino screamed over the chaos, lifting a lantern skywards. "These are banshees, their only weakness is light!" Lifting her free palm upwards, she aimed her index and middle digits towards this lantern. Wisps of argent overflowed from her fingers and trailed inside. A blast of luminary light then illuminated the forest like an implosion.
The moment it grazes a banshee, its ethereal form starts burning, causing them all to shriek louder. One by one, they fizzle out of existence, their weak screams dying upon their lips.
For a while, not a word gets uttered as the atmosphere becomes soul-cutting. What in the Gods' name is that?!
"This is called a Lēohtbæl—" Yukino spun around slowly, offering everyone more visibility. "—It is a luminary lantern in the modern tongue. They're extremely rare and not of this physical plane."
These are the essence of guiding gaests; spirits who do not frequent these realms.
"You certainly saved us." Viola breathed, lowering her sabre slowly so its point aimed groundwards. But their situation didn't seem to be improving.
Crimson cast towards the Palace battlements, mist enshrouding the field up ahead. Within the blanket, small hordes of SLAVEs were witnessed. It would seem that the Altains above were far too exhausted.
"Where is the spyglass?" Being handed it, Viola pushes towards the forest's edge and kneels by a tree. How had none of these wretches noticed them?
Extending this magnifying device, Viola brought it to an eye. Angling it towards three Altain archers, she spots one slumped against a merlon asleep. Two others stared out at the horizon: Is this their respite or a nightmare?
Did they yet know that the undead feared the sunrise and would flee beneath the canopy? Did they not realise fighting these undying monsters is best during the day? Beneath the Moon, its corruptive magicks ailed the mind—this is why SLAVEs drove humanity mad.
Another figure soon arrived, making her scarred brow crease. It is a knight covered head to toe in gore.
He stumbles at the slumbering archer, grapples him and throws him from the battlements. Viola could only speechlessly witness the man plunge into the muddy dyke below, gorging into stakes. An agonised cry echoes the field, alerting the nearby SLAVEs.
The undying corpses slothfully spin around, lumbering on over to the impaled soldier who starts screaming.
Wincing, Viola directed the spyglass upwards, scoping out the two other archers. They were attempting to flee from the bloody knight in terror. He easily leapt at one, smashing him to bits with inhuman strength.
That is no Artain, she realises… Just barely, she could make out his rondels—the circular armpit discs. They were decorated with the Windbloom Star. He is one of Chie's soldiers. Has he gone mad?
This caused an explosion of questions to bombard Viola: Were the undead already within the Palace? Where are the other officials? Were they prisoners of war? What about the Queen?
Lowering the spyglass, she twists within her kneel and summons a scout. "Are the battlements secure? There is a converted human in their midst."
"Converted…?" He is handed the spyglass which he gladly takes. Soon he set his sights upon the rampaging knight, almost dropping it in the process. "I-I didn't see any way up the damaged wall!" How had they gotten inside again?! Had they truly climbed the battlements?!
"Circle the Palace." Viola commands. "Take a shield in case the Altains attempt to shoot. We must know whether there is a breach before we make our approach."
The scout clambers for his horse at the back of the prone army. Once kicking his horse into a gallop, Viola returns to the army herself. "The dead have infiltrated the Palace. One of the Knight-Commander's knights is laying waste on the battlements." An unsettled chatter immediately sparks, soon silenced by the lift of her gauntlet. "We are to await the scout who I have ordered to check the battlements. Depending on his report, we either strike or retreat."
The next fifteen minutes were fraught with vehement silence. A tension so high is within the atmosphere; so much so it makes Natsuki wince.
She did not understand what is happening at all. How could the undead be here and now? Even after a week, she could not comprehend it! How could anyone plan a siege when the odds were stacked against them this high?
Mayhaps worse, it has started raining again: The torrential flood sparks from nowhere, beating down atop Natsuki's head. Grumbling, she peered upwards, trying to stand beneath a tree branch. Alas, it did not seem to help at all.
Then, both a miracle and disaster hits them.
Within the horizon above the Palace, the Sun raises, causing the hazy mist to dissipate. As it does so, squalls of anguish resound the area, footfalls reverberating.
The conjoined militia and Wind Army took a step backwards at the sight. From the Palace's rear end, a huge swarm of SLAVEs stamped, fleeing straight towards them.
"This—" Viola remarked breathlessly, turning sharply. "This is our chance!" The scout is close behind the undead, swiftly passing the rioting corpses. Upon his arrival, Viola declared: "We charge as one! Scout! What is the situation with the battlements?!"
"The far wall is collapsed, Arcewælcyrge!"
"Then we head for the opposite tunnel system! Shields to the front, ranged units to the rear!"
Far too quickly, Natsuki's head whirled in the carnage. Viola is issuing orders so swiftly she hasn't time to react. Just as quickly, she finds herself crammed between Laura and Tomoe—these two were her bodyguards.
This had been discussed at length if Natsuki is forced into the siege.
'A-ah, shit.' Fumbling for her dark sallet hanging behind her neck, she rammed it onto her head hastefully. The rain battered her helmet, disorientating her sense of awareness. Gods', how does anyone see or hear a thing with helmets on?! She curses under her breath, readying her sword even if she was to be useless. After all, she's injured.
The shieldbearers were already clashing with the SLAVEs, their mutilated bodies ricocheting from their defensive prowess. The army is quickly spread outwards into a long line, two rows behind the shieldwall—the middle infantry and the ranged rear. "Left wing forward-left!" Natsuki heard Viola commanding—through armet and all—the army flawlessly obeying.
First is a painstaking assault of shields, axes and swords upon the SLAVEs. Upon one falling, they would edge closer to the battlements.
As the Sun raised higher skywards, the exhausted Altains realised they were being attacked. Horns blared, but a lacklustre defence awaited the army.
"Halt! Do not allow the right wing to crumble! Left and centre, rebound! Circle the undead!" They could not allow the SLAVEs in close for long else their forces would go mad. "One shieldbearer forward, the second backwards! Repeat! Make two shieldwalls! One front, the other upwards!" Another flurry of orders flooded the field, a volley of Altain arrows and bolts bombarding them. Thunks and blood wrenching screams slammed the army from different positions.
All throughout this, Natsuki's head is still spinning. After what felt like aeons, it is like they were making progress. A large portion of the SLAVES broke away suddenly, fleeing for the treeline. The army starts manoeuvring backwards and sideways.
One half deals with the undead, whilst the other wraps inwards protectively. Their shields rose to block the Altain assault, but it makes no sense!
The battlements are far too empty. Where is the rest of Kanzaki's army? Had they truly been overrun by the SLAVEs?
"Ranged right wing, to the undead!" Nocked arrows, cranked bolts and handaxes tore the walking corpses to pieces. Rotten bodies were thrown backwards under the force or flopped pathetically. "Right wing, final strike! Left wing and centre, forward-left!"
Upon the final SLAVE being slain, the army straightened out and bypassed a statue. It is of a knight with his horse's front leg raised. Tomoe then shouted above the carnage beside Natsuki: "The tunnel is right in front of us! There's ivy all over the hatch!"
The line makes contact with the steep wall, the shieldwall spinning to protect the infantry and ranged units. Skyward shields pressed to the battlements and the other half turtled them in horizontally. Above them pure armageddon commenced.
Rocks, arrows, bolts, even shit is rained down upon them. But as they struggle to open the hatch, screams pour overhead.
An archer plunged into the dyke with them—another soon following. Is that knight picking off the battlement units?
"Move out of the way!" Tomoe growls, jostling herself past the soldiers. "The key—take it." She shoved it within the soldier's grip who quite literally tried forcing the hatch open. "It's the skeleton key—"
This time, screams besiege their forces as boiling tallow scorches shields, limbs and heads.
What few defences above remained had likely slain the knight at last. Now they are carting over the truly dangerous siege defences. A contraption up ahead suddenly appears looking similar to a mining skip. An onslaught of rocks, body parts and animal fat spewed below.
They are desperate.
Alas for them, the hatch flies open and the army cramps inside the narrow picked tunnel.
The atmosphere drops within this pitch-dark route.
"Is everyone alright?!" Viola bellows down the tunnel, pushing the injured army forward. Haphazard confirmations reverberate from the soldiers—some stronger than others. But they didn't have the time. "Help anyone who is unable to carry on. Where is Yukino?!" Confusion is unrelenting as they venture inwards, Tomoe squeezing to the front with Yukino for directions.
"I-I'm here!" The breathless Witch waved a hand before her lēohtbæl, a shimmering light illuminating the tunnel. What had they gotten themselves into? Her lantern hardly lit their path forward—the eerie darkness looking closer to the doorway to Hell. It is terrible as well; a single mutter would conclude, but a disembodied whisper would echo. It is not supernatural, but it didn't halt the unease.
"Tomoe, which way?" Their route forked off into two locations.
"Left." After unbearable minutes, the tunnelway starts transitioning into smoothed brick.
"Where are we?" Viola breathed, peering down a tunnel to their sharp left. This place is a labyrinth! Were they truly underneath Guadeloupe?
"Somewhere westside." There is a set of crumbing, descending steps to their right. They look as though thousands of feet had used them. "These steps lead to the cistern, I think."
Their feet echoe along cobblestone now as the tunnels branched into an older section. Here to their right is an iron gate sealing their way. "This has always been locked, but the wall ahead collapsed. We need that route." Tomoe guided them left, and sure enough, bits of rubble and broken brick lay before them.
The army sluggishly prise through, heaving, pained and exhausted. Viola meanwhile, looked behind her, quickly searching the heads for a sallet. "Where is Wælcyrge Kruger?"
Natsuki, dazed, is ushered forward.
"Are you alright?" Viola asked her, appearing far too calm in this situation. Natsuki heaved gaspingly, only able to spare her a nod. "I am sorry you wound up in this battle. With the SLAVEs it would be far too dangerous." She ignored the stares from the soldiers; let them watch.
"I-I get it." Natsuki forced, feeling winded. "What else could you do? The encampment i-is deserted and the SLAVES are already all over it." Nor could she exactly stay in the city, considering they were there too.
"Quite right." Viola nodded slowly, raising her hand to signal the army to stop. "Stay by my side." A final door blocked their access to the ground storey.
"This is it." Tomoe confirmed, seizing the key and slotting it into the lock. The door groaned and creaked harshly within the twisting silence, signalling to anyone or anything of their presence. Before them is a timber staircase ascending into the Servants' Wing.
"Thank you, Tomoe. Please notify the Hauscarlas to take sections of the army. We are to split up and slaughter anyone in our way. Avoid harming our own under all means necessary." Beneath the armet, Viola closed her eyes, momentarily steeling herself. What is perhaps more alarming than anything else is the sheer silence. She could hear nothing within the Palace, not even the foundations settling. It is as though the entire place is deceased. It is rotten to the core. Gods' save them for what they shall find after this staircase.
Scene V's Themes — Satella: Dreamers + The Realm.
The first thing which Natsuki is hit with, wasn't anything physical, but instead sensory.
Ugh, what in the Gods' names is that stench?! At the staircase doorway, Natsuki had to take a step back and bumped into Captain Bianchi. 'The smell! What the hell is that?!'
Then, through the restrictive vision of her sallet, she bore witness to it. Piles upon piles of corpses lay crumpled across this familiar corridor she'd walk along each day. Bloodsoaked floorboards and stained walls were truly a grotesque sight to behold. Both mentally and physically.
None of the militia nor Wind soldiers had expected carnage such as this.
"H-half left, half right!" Viola resounded throughout the corridor, even stalling momentarily.
Natsuki tries to push against the tidal force of the army, but is pushed rightwards away from Viola. The gauntlet bracing her belongs to Laura who hushes: "It's fine—I'm here."
Viola on the other hand, hasn't the time to wonder where her Wælcyrge or Hauscarlas were.
Instead, she rushes down the corridor towards the roaring of squalls and combat. At last! Seemingly someone is alive in this hellhole!
Coming to a brisk halt, she nearly trips over a SLAVE's prone body sprawled around the corner. Here she very nearly gets shot by none other than Haruka Armitage.
"Viola?!" The Captain of the Guard, helmless, gawked at her. "What are you doing here?!" By her side were three knights, all four were armed with heavy crossbows. "These bastards are—" A SLAVE lunged over bloody furniture used as cover, nearly grabbing the blonde.
Haruka seethed at the thing, unsheathing a shortsword and slamming the blade between its eyes. Flesh and bone flew, smearing everyplace disgustingly. "—everywhere! That damned Kanzaki tricked us!" The impaled SLAVE fell backwards, smashing against the floor. "We'll hold the line here! Go to the throne room, Kanzaki's been holding everyone hostage for days! We're too scattered to help! We've only just been holding on here!"
The throne room is somehow in a worse state than the corridors. Here, several hundred soldiers, servants and even the Queen reside. But, perhaps even more shocking than anything else is the sheer lunacy of this Dark Knight. Reito Kanzaki had Queen Mashiro at knifepoint.
Harder yet, their Huntmaster, Midori, aimed her crossbow at him. "Don't you dare touch him, you Altain scum!" Midori raged, unable to get a clear shot as the terrified Sovereign became his meat shield.
The army who stormed inside were only greeted with a glance by Kanzaki. Did he not care that over nine-hundred soldiers were trying to cram inside?! "Kanzaki!" Viola demanded his attention, her archers behind her nocking their arrows. "You will immediately unhand the Queen!"
"And do what, precisely?" The helmless Dark Knight questioned wryly, edging the blade into Mashiro's skin. "...As you can see, none of you have the right to command me." His voice lowered to a dangerous edge. Before anyone could respond, Midori released a seething yell, hitting her crossbow's lever. The bolt soured for Kanzaki—another redhead lunging for Midori.
"Zhang!" She roared in anger, toppling over backwards as Nao restrained her. The bolt hit its mark, impaling through an iron gorget and breastplate. Kanzaki both heaved and cackled—but it's too late, for he slashed the Queen's throat open like water. Pure armageddon bombarded the throne room at that moment. Servants wailed out in shock, anger, fear and all manner of terror.
The restrained soldiers, both wounded, ill and well leapt upwards. They were instantaneously set upon by the Altains who had been keeping them hostage. They cared not, for revenge is paramount.
Yet, within a darkened corner, it is the Queen's personal maid Viola caught sight upon first.
As Mashiro's blood gurgled within her throat, drowning her, the servant could not respond. Maybe that sight is what would impact Viola the most after this siege. The look of ultimate horror and loss upon a person who suddenly reminded Viola of herself. 'Anh.' At that moment, something instinctual snapped within the Arcewælcyrge's psyche.
"Destroy every single Altain within this Palace." Her voice raises but is terrifyingly calm. The Altains think themselves the bringer of regicide? This sabre would not do. Sheathing it back inside its scabbard, Viola calmly strode towards a dying Altain spearman. Ripping it from his cold hands, she cast upon him a fuming stare: This perhaps being his final experience as grey eyes fell flat.
She does not belong here yet she does. A Wælcyrge is neither of the physical nor magical planes. Viola is but a concept like Death but neither is. But now—now—fiery crimson pinpointed her first target.
A lone swordswoman with a two-hander is panicking within the sidelines. "You." She pulled off her gorget and cast it to the floor. Afterwards, her loose armet soon followed. The armour clanging against the floor made the Altain flinch.
Oh, bless. They have dragged a rookie into this slaughterhouse.
The woman quivers, forcing herself to face the Arcewælcyrge in semblance of endeavour. This is flawlessly dismantled as the spearhead gutted her stomach. The greenhorn could only peer down at her torso in total confusion, blood dribbling down her lips. Her gaze rises, looking at Viola before the blade twists, sealing her fate.
"Shieldbearers, start evacuating the hostages!" She bellowed over the chaotic assault, her next target an oddly feeble old man. None of these Altains deserve to live.
"N-no! Stay! No!" The man begged in her own tongue brokenly. But it is in vain, for the Arcewælcyrge staked his back with her grave-robbed spear. Again and again the Altain army is picked off until there is only one survivor.
"Shieldbearers." She said calmly as serene silence finally found them within the bloodsoaked throne room. "Have the infantry guard the hostages. Half of you lead the route outside, the rest protect the rear. I will join you soon."
The Arcewælcyrge's tone is glacial as the army obeys her every word. Within the chaos, it is unknown whether this obedience is through respect or fear. That did not matter. Viola's gaze fell onto the twitching body of Reito Kanzaki who is slowly dying. Upon his foul lips he still laughs, so he receives a sabatoned boot to the jaw.
Head snapping to the side, his eyes well with tears but continues shamelessly laughing.
What a wretched monster he is, Viola only stares at him. Is he Soul Mad or simply delusional? Grounding her knees upon the blood-sodden carpet, she reaches for the knife which had slayed the Queen. "Why waste an army of thousands for a useless monarch?" She coolly asked, gaze sweeping the blooded blade. "The Lord of Frenzy should insight better things than mere bloodshred."
"Y-ou a-re the same a-a-as meee." Kanzaki grinned at her, teeth reddened. "Yo—"
The knife launched within his throat silences him forever.
The Arcewælcyrge wordlessly raised to her feet, this time approaching Queen Mashiro's slewed carcass. There is a single thing Viola requires. Upon the monarch's left ring digit is the Sovereign's Ring. With it, they would have proof of Altai's crimes and protect the Kingdom from usurpers.
Taking the Queen's hand delicately, Viola tries prising the ring off her finger. Quickly she realises it won't budge. It must have been worn for so long that it's too tight to take. Thus she performed the most logical thing: With the blade still in hand, she forcefully started severing the finger.
The process is grotesque and gory. Bits of flesh, ligaments and argent tissue are painstakingly stripped away. The bone though, it is rage-inducing. The marrow is all messy like the blood, and it is practically impossible to remove this jewellery. After only the Gods' know when, a satisfying pop echoed in the throne room. Taking the golden sovereign ring between her thumb and index, Viola hummed.
She supposed she ought to find the others.
The trek through the desolate corridors is fine, though she could do without the moaning. An onslaught of ruined and dead SLAVEs lay skewered, sliced and crushed in the hallways. Their pathetic groans pierces Viola's roaring migraine. 'Just… be quiet.' She cursed, leathered gauntlet squeezing the ring in reaction. After what felt like hours, Viola finally hears the ricochet of footfalls and voices.
Halting, she threads the chain of her Anchor from beneath her chestplate. The process is vexing as her chestplate is in the way, but she eventually manages this procedure. The crystal jingled against her armour momentarily as it hung from her fingers. What would Natsuki think, she mused, staring into the emerald ardour. Though, she found herself uncaring, even believing that Natsuki probably didn't mind.
After all, they were both Soul Mad. She adamantly believes this, even if they may not be.
The improving symptoms were a mere illusion. But, Viola is not naïve, for she is fully aware of what she has performed. What makes a Wælcyrge going insane beneath the Sun different from that of a shambling corpse? One is of luminary essense—the other is not. No matter, she sighs in response to her conflicting thoughts.
Unclipping the chain's hook, Viola then attaches the Sovereign's Ring. "Viola?" Nao's voice came from a darkened corner she is bypassing. Pausing, the Arcewælcyrge stared at her dangerously, currently prying her Anchor back beneath her armour.
"Juliette Nao Zhang." She said coolly, examining the redhead's slashed jaw. A keen blade had sliced her face from the right cheek to the lip. "Kanzaki is dead. I made sure of that." She did not bother questioning why Nao tried restraining Midori, because it had been logical. If their Huntmaster had prevented the assassination, the Queen likely would have perished anyway. "You have lost your eyepatch." She instead comments, unfailingly staring into a flat, grey eye.
"Stupid bastards didn't believe I am half blind." Nao drawled dryly, both amused and spiteful. "They even tried to 'make an example of me'. 'Tried to cut out my dead eye and nearly cut my face off instead." What fucking arseholes, clearly they are more blindsided than she is.
Nor is she stupid like those Altains because Nao can sense the deadly façade radiating off Viola. Something foreboding has triggered within the Arcewælcyrge and she wasn't about to endanger herself. "The others are up ahead with the hostages. I am making sure we haven't missed any Altains."
"Very good." Viola only said, her tone still emotionless. It is also evident that Viola truly has no idea how monstrous she looks. Blood is dripping from her entire body. Is that even skin stuck to her spaulder? How on Earl did that get there? She has also lost her helmet and is carrying someone's spear?
Their journey falls quiet until they eventually rejoin the army. Nao soon blends in with the crowd whilst Viola pushes through to the front.
The entire group is on edge, potentially reading the air that something is incredibly wrong. They had all heard the stories of what had happened to Arcewælcyrge Shamrock. Were they going to witness the fall of their Arcewælcyrge?
Upon reaching the Palace entrance, they find only rubble and destruction.
"We shall take the passage through the dungeons and into the sewer system." The serene Arcewælcyrge reported, disgust and unease swarming the army.
To the stone steps they venture, one of Haruka's knights unlocking the iron gate for them. The scent of old blood and suffering down here is no different from the upper storeys. They pass dozens of empty gibbets—some even incarcerating a fresh corpse or two. They had obviously been forgotten during the chaos. Perhaps it is a mercy kill.
"Where is the head maid, Aoi Senoh?" Viola enquires to a nearby shieldbearer.
A trio of them move aside, Aoi swiftly being guided to Viola's side. "...I have Her Majesty's Sovereign Ring." She murmured expressionlessly, not bothering to read the distraught look Aoi shot her. "We will treat your malady when able. I will make sure you are returned to your lover's side as soon as possible. But I must ask; had she mentioned anything before her death?" Now shock pierces the maid.
How did the Arcewælcyrge…?
"I….I—I'm sorry…" The maid breathlessly apologies, seeming so fragile and shellshocked. "She—I—"
"Do not push yourself. Tell me once you are ready."
Aoi can only nod, her body quivering as the shieldbearers guide her back.
Their next obstacle is a hefty oaken door bolted with iron. A stink diverges from this decrepit place, assaulting the nostrils of everyone with a sense of smell.
They have arrived at the sewers and it is foul. The knight from before opens this portal to hell as well.
Like the initial tunnels, this cesspool sports roughly picked walls. It is the oldest section predating the Palace and looks a state. The curving ceiling is crumbling and bits of debris are scattered in sewage. It is fitting indeed that this is their escape route.
"Which way is the exit?" Viola questions the knight with the jingling keys. They echoe within the sanitation chamber, bouncing along the walls to then fade.
Around them the reverberations continue; armour, weapons, pained murmurs and splashing resounding the walls.
"We're going the right way. Marguerite has the drain's key though."
Viola nods, ordering for her former partner again. Unfortunately Tomoe is the only official with her. Everyone else has gotten split up at the stairway.
"I think the lock is hidden." Tomoe muttered, pressing up to the drain's gate. Straining, she reaches an arm towards her side through ivy, moss and Gods' know what. "I feel the lock." She stretches for the keyring hanging on her belt; the metal jingling as the dimness enshrouds them. Struggling within the tense silence, a loud clack woke up the rear army.
Finally! Excitement and anxiety filters through them. They need to get out—please!
The army initiates a weak push the moment the drain squalls open. However, they are stopped in their tracks.
"Stop!" Viola barks at them. "It is not over!" It certainly is not, for next they queued in a single file. Viola is the first to step forward, peering over the edge.
There is a seven foot drop into the gutter-ridden dyke below. This section of the outer battlements has been avoided purposefully for years. The stench is simply too much.
Skywards meanwhile, she observes the merlons extruding outwards from the wall. Total silence greets her in response—either everyone is dead, asleep or awaiting their escape.
"There is a fall into the sewage below." She murmurs quietly to the surrounding soldiers who quickly relay the information down the line. "I cannot see stakes nor do I know how deep the water is. Neither can I tell whether anyone is left on the battlements."
"I'll do it." One of the Arles Guard's leapt through the drainage gate and into the water groundwards. Viola slowly blinked at the scene, before slothfully viewing the sight below. No projectiles or liquid volleyed down upon the foolish soldier, nor is he impaled. Instead, he hectically scrambled around, dragging himself out and gagging.
As the man retches, Viola turns to the others: "Arles Guard, you are the first to exit. The shieldbearers go first in case of attack from the battlements." The order follows brief hesitance. "Fail in this and everyone within this sewer dies."
A disembodied black shadow behind Viola materialises. She sensed it before she saw it, nor did the others notice it.
"Get out, the horses were scared here."
What…? That voice is—As soldiers leapt into the sewage below, Viola's gaze flickers at a darkened brick. That is not the Dark Whisperer nor the Lord of Frenzy. Then, the voice disperses and in its place is Aoi. "I… I don't…"
"The… the drop is fine. No one has perished from the fall."
The Arcewælcyrge's facade is both soothing and terrifying. Why? Aoi could not fathom why, nor the reason why she jumped.
Viola soon follows after her, heaving out and almost getting shot in the back by crossbolts. The battlements?! How are they suddenly here?!
The horses—the unknown entity hadn't lied?—bucked and panicked in the new upheaval of chaos. "Shieldbearers!" She flings more orders to the recovering army. "To me! Archers, shoot them!" Aoi is the final hostage to make it to the water's edge, gagging in disgust and fear. Viola drags her out, narrowly dodging more projectiles which thunk against the ridge.
With the soldiers quickly dispatched, they leap for the anxious horses. One of which Viola mounts and hauls Aoi up into the saddle.
Alas, a huge explosion resounds somewhere inside the Palace. Now what?! Miraculously Viola manages to calm the horse to a nervous trot. All the while, the head maid is behind her, hugging her so tightly. Viola swore she felt it over her armour. "Retreat to the forest's edge!" She commands, kicking the horse into a gallop.
A truly awful feeling is welling inside of her. What has caused that detonation? It had sounded muffled—like it is within the Palace itself.
Arriving at the forest's edge, she drops Aoi off here. Turning the horse straight for the Guadeloupe battlements, she says: "I need you to remain calm. You will be safe here." A group of hostages were already here, some nestling closer to the head maid. With that, she whips the reins, jumpstarting the horse into action.
Another flood of the undead has swarmed the fleeing army at the battlements. Why is this? They should fear the sunlight? They're cornered at the Palace wall and Viola's sights instantaneously locks onto a familiar sallet. 'Natsuki. Natsuki is here!'
Relief but anger floods the Arcewælcyrge, helpless as Natsuki gets ganged up on by two SLAVEs. Oh, these shambling monsters think they have this right? Unsheathing her sabre, she charges through the scattered army. Heaving her weight towards the animated corpses, she arches her blade southwards to skywards.
The first SLAVE goes toppling backwards from the sheer prowess, a heavy gorge slicing its body. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" She hushed at the horse, pulling the reins within one fist. "Natsuki!" She called out, her stallion halting by the last undying cretin. His head arched backwards, dead eyes glooming through her soul. His face is slashed clean off by the Arcewælcyrge, now careening to the floor.
"Are you alright, are you hurt?!" Viola leapt from her horse, nearly hugging the girl. But, the fearful stare Natsuki cast at her triggered something within Viola. "What… is wrong?"
"Do… Do you know what you look like, right now?" Natsuki asks tentatively. Viola's covered in blood! She had the expression of—well, Natsuki had no idea. Viola has lost it, hasn't she? "L-look out!" She barked in warning, a SLAVE leaping for the Arcewælcyrge. Viola launched back, arcing her blade so its tip impaled the corpse within the armpit. Blood spurts like a fountain, enveloping them in a vaporous mist. "You…" Wow. Now they're both drenched in guts and flesh. Natsuki sighs.
"I do not care. This is warfare." Gripping Natsuki's upper-arm, Viola ushers her towards the amassing crowd of soldiers and servants.
This woman will never change, will she? Natsuki pulled her limb away. "W-we got separated from the others. The undead appeared out of nowhere again!" As Natsuki declares this, a final batch of Altains raze hell from the battlements. The carnage alerts the undead who start slapping at the walls uselessly.
"Shieldbearers! To me! Everyone, behind the shieldwall!" Viola raised her voice, signalling the shieldbearers towards her. "Where is Captain Bianchi?!"
"I'm here!" Laura came rushing over with wounded Arles Guards.
"Kanzaki has murdered the Queen." The Arcewælcyrge hushed at her as the army and hostages hunkered down behind the shieldwall. "No one must find out yet. It will destroy morale and cripple us." Laura stared at her speechlessly before swiftly nodding.
"We must retreat, Arcewælcyrge." But, an explosion interrupts them.
An entire group of Reito's army is sent flying off the battlements as a tallow cauldron explodes. It turns out this is Haruka, Chie and Sarah. "Change of plan." Viola said. "We must get them down from the battlements somehow."
"But that's—"
"Insane? Absolutely, but this may be our final chance." Quickly rallying the conjoined army, Viola commanded: "With me! We are to charge the wall again! We will strike with this shieldwall! Half of the infantry, evacuate the hostages!" Taking a shield from a nearby dead soldier, the guards flanked yonside. "Natsuki, retreat to the treeline with them, I will return the moment I can rescue them."
Natsuki could only watch on as the charge commenced. The others are already leaving. Mentally kicking herself, she made a run for the Sprites' Forest. Her legs were like lead and her chest burns, but she pushes on. Heaving, she makes it—somehow.
"A-are… they alright?" Aoi asked, stepping from out of the shadows. For a moment they watched the nine-hundred strong unit block all manner of projectiles.
"I… I don't know." Natsuki stresses, something swelling within her chest.
Back to Viola, a crossbow bolt impaled her shield, ripping right through. The head had very nearly pierced her forearm, slicing into her leather glove. Sucking in a breath, she made it to the wall. Immediately lifting her shield overhead, she blocked large stones being thrown down by their adversaries.
Suddenly, all goes silent above them. A few stressful moments transpire, the group clenching their teeth in anticipation. They could not wait for the others long, else unspeakable things could be dumped onto them. Then, they heard it—screams.
"You lot down there!" Haruka leaned over the merlons, still helmless but now sporting a bruised jaw and cut lip. "You're with Viola and from Arles?"
"I am here! We came across this army in the highlands of Galleria. What has happened here?"
"Viola?! You got out so fast?!" Haruka squawked in disbelief. How?! "What are you—?! We were making our way to the gatehouse when we got split up from the others." She explained quickly. "Not everyone made it during the initial attack, and the Knight-Commander got shot." Beside her, Chie is being heavily supported by Sarah. Within her armoured shoulder is an arrow.
"The wall where we are heading has collapsed." Viola remarked. "Meet us there."
Today marks a new era of strife, war, famine and corruption.
The Kingdom has fallen.
"...Shizuru, are you okay?"
