Chapter Restructured & Expanded: 29-04-23.
TLDR — 400 words of this chapter are A/N. Sorry about that!
CHAPTER XXIII
Langung Geryne
(Delayed Mystery)
XVII • CMI Sunnandæg of Ærra Geola
(The 17th Day of Preceding Yuletide, Sun's Day, 901)
Once the evacuees had fled through the crushed battlements, a gradual semblance of control had begun.
The rest of the Altain forces were hunted down and slaughtered like the barbaric animals they were. Cries of agony goaded the Wind defence onwards; their forces picking clean even the surrenders.
Why should they administer mercy when this horde has ransacked and destroyed their Kingdom?
Several hours have now passed, but a small regiment is scouting the field. Viola heads this group, directing torchbearers to a hulking pile of SLAVE corpses.
"These ones are ready." Viola notifies the regiment, the gored Arcewælcyrge grasping a spear. She aims its blade towards an Altain carcass beside her, prodding the body's abdomen. Dead. "Remember, do not burn the Altains yet. We can easily repurpose their equipment first."
Skywards she peers, chilled snowfall gently caressing her face.
How in the Gods' names has this happened? She still could not fathom it. Queen Mashiro had been the final member of her family. The Winds—no, House Weaver—is officially extinct.
What did this mean for their fallen nation?
Guadeloupe Palace lies in ruins and they are still listing their missing and dead… What else? Viola's eyes lowered, gaze sweeping the blazing field. Infernos dazzled everyplace, lifting ash into the sky which in turn amalgamates with snowfall.
Viola sighs.
What a total disaster.
"Arcewælcyrge Viola." Her attention is broken, moving to the Knight beside her. "What do we do with the converted knights?"
"You will not touch them. They will have a ritual performed then a pyre funeral. It is already the afternoon and I fear you have risked enough around the undead." Viola muses upon her words as the Knight nodded. Dismissing him, she runs her free hand along her breastplate. Beneath this bloodied armour rests the Sovereign's Ring.
What is she going to do?
Should she use Rosalie's communication rune? 'The rumours of my discussions with her are abundant in the encampment.' She should probably enlighten everyone about their new—dangerous—options. Ever since conversing with the Florentine Monarch within her Palace, Viola's mind has been racing.
Their potential alliance is desperately sought, but would the others trust her judgement?
Honestly, did they have a choice? To their west behind the Black Valley is the vast Altain Empire. To their south-east is Remus. They were a quiet but prosperous country—exempting their endless battle with their blood-cousins, Romulus, of course. Lastly their northern neighbours were the Florentines themselves. They were much like their shared neighbour: Silent, auspicious but parlous.
It's feasible Florence would simply swallow them up or make them their vassal like Galleria. Essentially they would become slaves inside their own country. That is not the Windbloom way.
Another gathering of soldiers are heading towards her. A convoy of waggons are donned by foetid corpses, their rot worsening the closer they approach.
Viola inwardly winced with displeasure, yet her flawless façade did not slip.
"We got most of them out of the bailey." A soldier said, pointing a thumb behind him. Here the Arles Guard were heaving nearby corpses onto the waggons. "Where should we leave them, Arcewælcyrge?"
"By the closest pyre that way." She directed him towards the blaze by the battlements.
This would be a long night indeed.
Turning to prowl the battlefield, Viola stepped over multitudes of corpses. The rancid blood, guts and gore were sickly beneath her sabaton-boots. How on Earl is she going to clean her gear? Blood-splatter is still staining her armour and she had long done away with her armet. Where had she thrown that helmet again…? Hadn't it been in the throne room?
The wretched stink from the sewage-infested moat still clings to her as well. She is not looking forward to her freezing soak soon.
But no matter, for she discovers a living Altain on the brink of death. Towering over him, she expressionlessly stares down at him. He too has long since lost his helm and his eyes were glazing over. The faintest awareness is cast her way—his blood-caked face twitching in agony.
Scarlet gaze lowering, Viola glances upon the falchion gorged within his stomach. "Monstrous fools." Her eyes faintly narrow in contempt, setting her feet either side of his body. Pointing her spear's tip towards her adversary's midriff, she thrust it inside. Gagging, spluttering and heaving follow suit, until silence reigns supreme.
This frightful muteness dilates as Viola looms over the dead soldier. Her own forces were still visible within the distance; their teamwork progressing nicely. But unlike them, there is no one to support Viola in her bloody crusade.
She had commanded it.
As the highest ranked within the Palace, she saw it fit to perform this horrendous act.
The Arcewælcyrge mulls upon her past as she idly twists the spearhead within the Altain's carcass. The notion is vulgar at best. This man had followed his orders successfully and mayhaps have a family thousands of miles away. But it did not matter, because Viola does not care.
Ripping the polearm out, Viola hummed with disinterest.
Months ago she had asked Natsuki whether she is a monster. She supposes she had been right all along.
"Arcewælcyrge!"
She turns, looking upon the advancing figure of Chie Hallard.
The Knight-Commander's right arm is within a sling and she isn't wearing her spaulders nor chestplate. Instead, her black gambeson is fully visible, the intricate under-tunic's right arm also having been removed.
"Gods', how long have you been doing this?"
Viola merely eyes the younger woman, staring through her. She did not like that response.
Stepping over the carcass and halting before Chie, Viola lifted her chin. Eyes full of ardour, she declares: "Since the moment our forces successfully evacuated." The faintest sardonic smile traces her lips before it disappears upon Chie's response. 'Oh, look how horrified you appear.'
"But that's been nearing five hours!"
"Indeed." Viola said, unscathed. Spinning on her bloody heel, she strides towards a new body. The Knight-Commander tails after her, who is promptly ignored.
This Altain seems dead enough, she guesses, poking her with her spear. Not a whisper nor movement is betrayed, thus to the next she went.
"You're not well." Chie warily watches the monstrous woman. What has happened to her?
"Neither are you, Commander." Throwing the Knight a searing stare, Viola checked another enemy cadaver.
"Captain Armitage is asking for you." Chie tries, hopping over the Altain that Viola had slain. Ugh. She cringed, regretting that action immediately. Her shoulder does not agree with this. She instead lags behind, cupping her shoulder delicately.
"Then I ask you to return to her side. She is the Captain of the Guard for good reason." The Arcewælcyrge has no time for games. "I will join the others when I have finished."
Chie shakes her head, knowing there is no use in fighting.
Four Hours Later
"Incompetence!"
Haruka Armitage slams her fist down upon the tabled map, startling everyone.
"...Excuse me?" The now bathed Arcewælcyrge pulls her attention away from her parchment, looking at the Captain.
"They're all incompetent—the lot of them!" This is outrageous! She glares at the Knight-Captain who remains unfazed, bored emerald staring into angered violets. "Negotiations?!" She spits at Sarah. "After they marched a nine-thousand strong army into our country, seized the Palace and tortured our innocents?! Might I remind you that the Queen is dead?!" She slams her fist against the table again, their cups rattling.
"Regicide did happen, yes." Sarah said purposefully slow. "...Though in the grand scheme of things, the military already conducted most of her duties anyway."
There hasn't been a functioning Witan since her father's reign. That and—well, the plague, famine and war has ripped through their lands.
"More importantly, what are we doing about the imprisoned soldier?" Fiar reminded the bickering pair. "He recently turned."
"That, yes." Viola says, fingers circling the rim of her wooden cup. "I was considering offering him to Yukino for magical experimentation." She ignores the horrified stares thrown her way, focusing now on the expressionless Florentine. "It is rare indeed to have the undead at our disposal. We would learn a great deal."
"You're a monster." Haruka admonished her, aghast at the mere consideration.
"If you would rather—" Viola crisply responds to the Captain's tone. "—we can miss this opportunity by simply hanging and quartering it." She wouldn't truly execute a walking corpse. That SLAVE has no morals or fears, after all.
For a time, the Captain and Arcewælcyrge went back and forth. So much in fact, that the other officials wearily gazed at one another.
Chie in the meantime, discreetly leans towards Laura she sat beside. "Do you think it's Soul Madness…?" She tacitly whispered into the Arles Captain's ear, eyes trained upon Viola at all times.
"Perhaps." is Laura's only response.
This is concerning. Chie straightened, her free hand lifting to her jaw to stroke it. Nonetheless she observes Haruka and Viola's argument with intrigue. As always, Viola knows precisely how to send the Captain in bewildering circles.
She has just thought of something.
"Captain Armitage." She calls, capturing the entire table's attention. "What if we use this man as a lure? The undead are naturally attracted to each other."
"Absolutely not—" "—I agree." A nay from Haruka and an aye from Viola. The two eyed each other; the blonde furious whilst the brunette stoic.
Clearly this is getting them nowhere. Viola sighed, pulling mildly at her Anchor's chain. Once bathing she had changed her boots, white trousers, mahogany gambeson, harness, frog and sabre. This weapon jingled as she rose from her seat. "Where is Wælcyrge Kruger?"
"The meeting isn't over—" Haruka is interrupted.
"—It shall become an endless debate that will achieve nothing." Viola coolly stated, silencing the Captain. "I suggest that we pick this up tomorrow. Later tonight myself, Wælcyrge Kruger, Captain Gallagher and Agent Zhang will enter the Palace."
Sarah nods dutifully, her fellow blonde official merely staring at her. How is Sarah fine with being commanded around like this?
"Ah." Chie stopped Viola before she could exit the tent. "She's with Grimnir."
…Who is that? Viola gazed at her expressionlessly by her chair.
"She finally named that horse I gave you." Chie confirmed, realising her mistake.
Oh, the horse. What a curious name. Viola dismisses herself and heads for the centre of the encampment. Here there is a rush of activity: Sparring, shaving, discussions, laughing, patrolling… This area is surrounded by huts and tents which have been sporadically increasing over time.
Even so, most eyes were upon the lone figure in the open field.
Natsuki is this lonesome person.
She has Grimnir tied to a tall stake rammed into the ground. He circles this whilst she tries mounting him. The manoeuvre seemed very stiff, but miraculously Natsuki managed it. Every time she successfully heaves herself onto the saddle, she would leap down again.
"She's getting good at it."
Viola's focus moves to Kazuya seated close by on a short stool. He is slicing potatoes with a knife, letting the cuts fall into his bucket before him. "She named the horse Grimnir after hearing a tale from the soldiers."
"A tale, you say?" Viola halted beside him, watching Natsuki fully—like most of the Arles Guard were. Should she be weary of this…?
"Grimnir is a legendary warrior of Wyndlósma—er, Old Windbloom, I mean. It's said he is from Caer Badden to the north-west. His name loosely means 'cruel' or 'formidable'. Anyway, he was betrayed by his own people and tortured until he went insane." Kazuya said in a matter-of-factly tone.
That is an oddly sombre story to name the horse after, Viola blinks slowly. But, somehow it works? "I have never heard of this story before. Does it have a happy ending?"
"Depends on who you're asking." Kazuya rolls a tender shoulder, but shoots the Arcewælcyrge a smile. "I'll tell you the good ending: Some say that the Gods' were so impressed with him that they lifted him into Wælheal. He was immediately sent to the mythical proving grounds, slaying beasts without fail. Eventually he became the aspect of espionage—that's where his title 'The Masked One' came from. For his deeds, he was given one wish."
Finishing slicing the potatoes, Kazuya briefly looked around. Directly behind him is a sack which he heaves over. "His wish is to be reincarnated back into his peoples' town. This is the same group who had betrayed and tortured him."
Viola slowly started connecting one and two together. Is that why Natsuki chose the name? "He dismantled the town during his new lifetime." Kazuya peers at her in surprise. "It is a guess." She smiles, though it didn't reach her eyes entirely. Eyes focusing back on Natsuki, she mused. "I can understand his logic. Those people would have meant everything to him, so the fact they did that to him? Was he their Chieftain?"
"Yes. He is also a master tracker and huntsman. I think Wælcyrge Kruger is quite partial to that?"
Releasing a hum, Viola understood entirely now. 'Interesting. I shall have to tell her about Windbloom legends.' Nodding to the soldier, she departs, heading for Natsuki now.
As the Arcewælcyrge approaches, Natsuki spotted her. Sat atop Grimnir, she palmed along his neck, halting him. "Viola?"
"You seem to be getting better at horse riding." Viola remarked, setting herself beside the stallion. She peered up at her then moved her scarlet gaze to Natsuki's wounded forearm. "Though I do wish you would not strain yourself. You are still injured."
"It's fine, I've been using my other arm."
"Even though you cannot grip with your right hand well?"
Sliding her foot out of a stirrup, Natsuki swung her leg over Grimnir's back. Viola stepped backwards as she hopped off, Natsuki landing before her. "I watched you do it." She tilted her head faintly. "You wrap your hand around the saddle's pommel but you don't use your thumb much."
"...I do not?" The Arcewælcyrge regards her for a moment, before casting her a wry look. "It seems that confidence is making you rebellious. Now you dare use my own methods against me?" Well, not that Viola minded too much. She'd much rather have Natsuki like this than an anxious wreck. "Either way, will you come with me? I must check your a—ah?"
Stumbling forward, Natsuki rams into Viola's front, very nearly knocking her off balance. "G-Grim!" She shot at the horse behind her. Had he just shoved her forward with his head?!
Cupping the younger woman's shoulders, Viola peered down at her, startled. Upwards she lifted her gaze. Grimnir merely nickers at her, his lips flapping. Her surprise immediately transmutes into arrogance. "It seems Grimnir has sided with me!"
"I—ugh." Natsuki made an incomprehensible grumble before tearing herself away from her. "Fine, fine." She sighs, turning to her turncoat stallion. "Let me free him first." Hang on though, she pauses suddenly, making Viola give her a questioning look. "You already know his name?"
"Word travels quickly." Nevertheless, Viola waited, deeply amused.
Before long, the horse is detached from the stake and sent his way. "...What are you smirking about?" She warily eyes Viola as she hands a guard her rope.
"I am just proud of how well you are doing here." Loosely Viola crossed her arms as they walked, her hand cupping her elbow. "I never would have expected you to do so well in a siege camp."
"Neither did I." Natsuki said nothing for a moment, leading the way towards their shared tent. What had she been meaning to tell Viola— "Oh!" She turned around, causing Viola to almost bump into her. "While you were clearing up the field I learned how to make this."
From a hidden compartment under her sleeve, Natsuki unsheathed a small blade. "I melted down some of the Altain swords lying around." The knife is dull and a little jagged. Apart from that, it is quite the decent first attempt.
"You made this?" Viola took the blade curiously. Resting the blade upon her palm and the hilt within her other, she marvelled at it. "Without help?"
"Only a little. I want to make more until I am perfect." Preferably at a genuine forge too… makeshift kilns were painful. It amazes Natsuki that the metals melted at all.
So Natsuki wants to become a blacksmith. It fits so flawlessly too. "I am sure you will." Viola confidently responded. "I can picture you as a blacksmith clearly. Have you thought about what you would like to specialise in?"
"Not yet. I want to try some basics first like knives, nails and such."
Hm, interesting indeed! Viola returns the blade to Natsuki which is quickly concealed once more. "I look forward to seeing your future work." Soon enough they arrive at their shared tent. "Have you not slept at all?"
"I tried—but only for an hour. I couldn't sleep."
That is not good. Viola ushered her inside and prised off her boots. "You may feel like you are not tired, but the adrenaline is responsible for that."
This is true. Natsuki fidgets by the entrance, feeling lost for words suddenly. The events inside this damned tent bombard Natsuki's mind, stunning her. Every time the two of them resid here, the atmosphere plummets.
It's already happening.
"During my first expedition I was the same." Viola revealed, turning her back on Natsuki as she removed her harness, frog and scabbard. "Anh had to physically pin me down." She smiled, eyes going distant in reminiscence. How is that nearly a decade ago already? Viola's expression softened momentarily, dropping her gear beside her neatly piled armour.
Time is a horrifying torture.
"...You Arcewælcyrge sure seem to like forcing yourselves on your Einharjar." Natsuki accuses her. Though… she frowns in reaction at her sudden thought. Did Viola like being treated that way?
"Perhaps we do, or that the culture is simply different here." Natsuki only continued to stare at her. "Rather… action over dialogue is generally respected more." She tries to explain, studying Natsuki's face for any sign of confusion. "Words are powerful, but they can only achieve so much. The Queen for instance—all she ever did was speak."
That is true, Natsuki nodded hesitantly. Ever since being chosen by Viola, Mashiro had done what exactly? Apart from demanding her presence once, Natsuki couldn't think of anything. From what she could tell, Mashiro had left most duties to her officials. Then she got assassinated without a thought.
Gingerly slipping into the bedroll, Viola shuffled to the far end. She patted the furs and blankets, summoning Natsuki mutely. As expected, the younger woman stalled, something within her eyes signalling Viola to respond. "Natsuki, come."
She had no choice, did she? "I-I still can't believe she's dead." Natsuki quickly removed her boots and gear, getting in. Fidgeting, she then rolls onto her back like Viola did. She stares up at the tent, idly fiddling with her bandages. Viola seems more of a monarch than Mashiro herself.
"Neither can I."
They fell silent, their minds full of questions without answers.
"Does your arm still hur—"—"—When did you—huh?" They spoke in unison.
"You first." Viola said."
"I… huh… I forgot what I was going to say."
"Oh." Viola laughed softly, having the sudden urge to wrap her arms around Natsuki's head. Ah, this might be problematic? Gazing into her former Ánhere's eyes said as much. Breath catching, Viola attempted to disguise it, forcing a hum. "Hm, well—" She caught Natsuki's wrist beneath the blanket, guiding it out. "—I will ask again, how is your arm?"
"I-It's fine. Now it sometimes just stings a little." The touch is electric, making her clench her teeth behind lips. However, the look Viola gave her insinuated disbelief. Natsuki could only sigh in response. "T-that sometimes being a lot, and a little meaning moderate, but still—"
"Still." Viola breathed, stopping her from continuing. "I already feel awful that I made you join the siege, Natsuki. Please do not overexert yourself." It both fascinates Viola and concerns her by how busy Natsuki is in the encampment. If she wasn't performing all her duties, she is training. Both of these—especially the training—were full time jobs as is.
"Which you've told me a dozen times already."
"Touché."
The silence returned.
Viola mulled over their recent cooperation within Natsuki's quiescent presence. Their relationship is steadily improving now. In fact so much Viola felt she could ask her anything at all. Thus, she did just this.
"Tell me. Who are we?"
Virid irises traced back to scarlet.
That sure is a baffling and unforeseen question. Natsuki muses thoughtfully, remaining mute for a time.
'Who are we?'
"Survivors without answers; we aren't bound to anything yet we are imprisoned by it. We don't remember our past but coincidentally we do." Natsuki said slowly as though tongue-tied. Skywards she peered, face scrunching faintly with difficulty.
Natsuki had never been one to express her thoughts. Even as Garderobe's leader… She shakes her head, thinking of all those shoddy letters and awkward speeches. Somehow she'd always piss someone off and she had no idea why.
"I am not a monster anymore?" The Arcewælcyrge asks her, null from condescending remarks. "I must say that if so, you are surprising me."
A memory of their time in Guadeloupe's royal bathhouse flashed in Natsuki's mind. Ah… She… She told Viola she had terrified her back then. It felt like aeons have passed, even though it had only been some months ago.
She had been found during the Spring. Now it is the Winter.
"I can't call myself innocent anymore." Natsuki reveals, her gaze veering in Viola's opposite direction, now feeling self-conscious. "I was like a lost child back then. I knew nothing—I mean, I still know little, but that's beyond the point."
Viola's heart flutters as she gazes at this woman resting beside her. This is the Natsuki from her past! The wisdom that her Natsuki beheld is something else entirely. She wasn't one to fear selflessness nor loyalty. The Natsuki of her past wouldn't ever blame another person for her misdeeds. Unless they truly deserved it.
"I was terrified of you because I couldn't understand your mentality." Natsuki's gaze swung back to Viola, feeling more assured. "This world is like a living nightmare of pain, confusion and anger."
"But… it no longer is?" Viola supplied, though rather unsure of her own wording.
"...Maybe?" Natsuki shrugs and then vaults up to sit cross-legged. Shifting the blankets away from her body, she prises up her tunic. Across her midriff are the clear signs of her previous downfalls. The scar tissue warped her already argent skin much paler. She still could not believe that Viola—Shizuru?—had Spirit Mended it.
How in the Gods' names do you survive this?
"Natsuki?"
The younger Wælcyrge had fallen silent again, but her next question made Viola freeze.
"...Shizuru, are you okay?"
The enquiry was so soft that Viola almost didn't catch it. In fact, for a second, she believed she had misheard Natsuki. She called her Shizuru again! "Natsuki—"
"—I want to see your wounds too."
"Wait, what do you m—" Viola's breath escaped her lungs as Natsuki spun around and pounced on top of her. The sudden change in demeanour totally catches her off guard. What is happening?
"Did I kill you once?"
The Wælcyrge looming over her demanded, casting her hands upon her gambeson. She couldn't think straight. "Nats—"
"Please tell me, Shizuru. I must know."
Oh, Gods' that voice. It ultimately quashed any hope Viola had to respond sensibly. Her body heat is unbearable suddenly. D-did Natsuki just turn her on? "Natsuki, I—" Wait a moment. The penetrating look boring down on her forced her into silence. Swallowing, Viola breathed falteringly. T-this is bad. Or perhaps it isn't? "...Natsuki." The name hissing from her lips sounded foreign from the croon.
Closer and nearer Natsuki lingered her face towards her, until—
"—Arcewælcyr—Oh, I-I'm sorry."
The two women speared the poor man scorching glares. Under such frightful duress, the guard shrunk and departed.
That had been the same man who interrupted Natsuki's medical assistance! Viola almost scowls, clasping her hands to Natsuki's shoulders. Easing her backwards, Viola sat herself up. Now the younger Wælcyrge is sprawled inside her lap.
"He truly knows when to interrupt at the most inopportune moments." Viola sighed, not yet noticing Natsuki's distant demeanour. Peering downwards at her Wælcyrge, Viola brushes her fingers through dark tresses. That is, until she identified the blemish of scarlet cheeks—Natsuki's blushing. Her stroking halted.
"...I shouldn't feel this, but I do." Natsuki admonished herself, easing up from Viola's lap. "I—err, ugh." She scratched her cheek in nervous habit, shuffling away a moment later. Alas, Natsuki's wrist is seized.
"Wait." They stared at each other vehemently, breath fleeting and nerves flayed. "I will only show you my scars if you stop calling me Viola." The stare she received in response is something else entirely. Viola sucked a breath, holding it.
"...You blackmailer." Natsuki accused her.
Whether truthfully convicted by Natsuki or not, something swelled within Viola's chest. She could not decide what that feeling enlightens. Pride, optimism, desire…? Who knows?
"Say it—" The defiance within Natsuki's gaze is addictive. Viola felt she could slip into its void and forever remain lost there. "—my name."
"I—" Natsuki sneered at her as her upper arms were cupped. Eased closer, she turned her head as Viola's lips neared hers. Instead, she felt her hot breath against her cheek. It is enough to cloud her already scrambling senses.
"Say it, Natsuki."
Green glanced at red before sweeping away again.
A tense pause.
"Shizuru." The hiss escaped Natsuki's mouth, refusing to look at her Arcewælcyrge.
"Now that is not so difficult, mh?" Viola's lips curled somewhat sinisterly, easing her close. "But—" She murmured close to Natsuki's ear, earning a shiver. "I will promise you I will show you my body's—"
"—D-don't say it like th—"
"—wounds." Oh! Natsuki's just so adorably precious! Viola's heart swelled joyously. "How else would I say it?" She moved the younger Wælcyrge from out of her lap and started unthreading her gambeson.
Thank the Gods' she had somehow ridden the blood from this tunic. She had genuinely been unsure whether the blood would leave her gear. Nonetheless, it is probable she would have to get rid of them sooner rather than later… The look Natsuki threw at her, however, is something she didn't want expelled from her life. Ever.
It is one of discomfort, wonder, craving and maybe something else. What this matter is, is hard to surmise. Nevertheless… Viola unclothed her torso, revealing to Natsuki her partially covered skin.
The already stiff atmosphere escalated into a frustrating mess.
That gaze! Natsuki's eyes! Viola saw it as it happened—viridian gaze darkening and focusing only on her. If it is even possible, that stare invigorated the Arcewælcyrge. It took her breath away maybe for the third time. But, as Natsuki's hands drifted towards her skin, she tried: "Nats—"
"You're self-conscious, right?" Natsuki asked, fingertips grazing along a rib and towards Viola's cauterised scar. Her digits paused at it. A dent is within the Arcewælcyrge's flesh, its pigment a pinkish-red. Fleetingly Natsuki retreated her hand entirely—alas, it is again captured.
"Do you not realise what you are doing to me?"
Huh? Natsuki frowned at her, confused. What does she—"O-oh." She mumbled, now embarrassed.
"No, do not be bashful." Viola guided the shy hand back, smearing the palm against the mark. Wrapping her own atop it, she interweaved her fingers around Natsuki's wrist.
Viola could not fathom what her brain or heart wanted. It is a myriad of confusion. In one corner her heart said yes, then her brain said no. Truly, the only real answer came from her body. It adamantly screamed at Viola, wanting her to just pin Natsuki and take her.
'She is mine, no one else will have her. I will make sure of that.'
Natsuki meanwhile isn't aware of Viola's waning control. Nonsensicality within crimson irises were bolted upon Natsuki—and on her only. It is much of the same for herself really, for she gaped at the Arcewælcyrge's physique.
Just like when she helped bathe Viola in Guadeloupe, Natsuki found her body perfect. A lump formed within Natsuki's throat at the sight. 'I-I think I'm going insane.' She realised, an advancing hunger broiling inside her chest. It rippled, tightening against her heart to cast it faster, until… it descended lower.
Ah, this—Natsuki sighed, veering her gaze from Viola's body. Yet as she attempts her repeated retreat, her gaze unconsciously finds Viola's. An absolutely scorching stare bolts her. Now she is caught within her Arcewælcyrge's web—scarlet gaze pinning her like a seductive spell. "Vio—Shizuru." She breathed.
"That is right. That is my name." Viola murmured, guiding Natsuki's scarred thumb to her lips. Pressing her mouth against the pad, she eyes her Wælcyrge hungrily as she kisses along it. 'Is this too much?' Viola thought this as she watched the younger woman start to crumble. Oh, how she wanted her. The twisted thrill she felt—more, she needed more!
The flicker of crimson beneath Natsuki's tunic haltered her.
Viola paused, teeth latched against the length of the scarred thumb.
"V-Vio—"
The Arcewælcyrge pushed the hand away from herself and edged closer. Natsuki in return anxiously manoeuvred backwards, clearly confused.
"Wait." Viola said, clutching Natsuki's front. She smeared her palm against Natsuki's breastbone, her other reaching for the Anchor. As the crystal is revealed, the pair stared at it. The surface is illuminated brightly within a crimson hue as though ardour raced through it.
"W-why is it doing that?"
"I…" With her fingers, Viola dangled the Anchor from its chain. She feels like the Heart of Transmission is attempting to communicate with her. But how—and why? What reason would it…—Viola's eyes fell to her own Anchor, as did Natsuki's. It shines a dazzling viridian. "What… is the meaning of this?"
They calm down somewhat, their unexpected circumstances getting in the way of their cravings.
"I… I don't know." Natsuki says distractedly, half her mind still upon what Viola had just done to her. What had that been?! Gods', her body is tingling and is on fire all at once! Her hand as well—the electric touch would not go away. Gaze veering, she swallowed tersely. This isn't helping things. Alas, the Arcewælcyrge's sigh made Natsuki's gaze return.
"I am too tired to think." Viola eases forward, attiring Natsuki with her Anchor once more. She looks at it for a moment, studying its crimson imbuement.
How odd. She finds it strange that it is this colour. Surely green or blue would suit Natsuki better? Though… her own Anchor is comparable, for it is green rather than red or purple. Why is this?
"No matter." She declares, trailing her hands along Natsuki's arms. Reaching the cusps of Natsuki's elbows, she then drags her close.
"A-ah?"
"Quiet." Viola urges her, landing her lips upon a reddened cheek. A grumble is her reward, making her smile. Though these urges to have Natsuki were certainly fierce… The Arcewælcyrge closes her eyes, pressing a kiss to Natsuki's jaw. Hands are soon upon her chest restlessly.
Is this out of yearning or denial?
"No matter." Viola repeated, her lashes tickling the younger woman's skin as her eyes opened.
She makes a motion to draw away, but changes her mind. Entangling her arms around Natsuki, she eases them backwards until her back presses against the bedroll.
"Let us sleep, Natsuki."
"B-but your chest—"
"What about it?"
Natsuki incoherently mumbles under her breath, nervous indeed for Viola's arms criss-cross her shoulders. Consequently, the side of her face now lies against her chest. Here she remained stiffly, thoughts racing hectically.
The Arcewælcyrge is excessively warm—but what really distracts her is the muscle. She—Gods' above the feeling's heavenly! Viola's toned legs are yonside her hips and their fronts meshed together wholly. There is no space for movement either. But Viola's—no, no. Shizuru's heart! Synonymous of her own, it beats like a quickened drum.
She's as nervous as her, isn't she?
"Aren't you cold?" Natsuki stared towards the tent wall, concentrating on the sound of Viola's heart.
"Why would I? You are keeping me warm."
True. Though Vio—Natsuki sighed, noticing her mistake. Shizuru had always been cold-inclined.
They fell silent, surrounded by only the distant outside-activity and their own breath.
This is honestly the first time Natsuki had felt truly comforted around Viola. She felt as though nothing could ensnare her now... Apart from the Arcewælcyrge herself, of course.
Looming her injured arm upwards, Natsuki rested her palm beside Viola's head. Hang on… they hadn't checked her stitches, had they? Oh well…
"It will be Yule soon." Viola hums within the quiescence, eyes closed. Sliding her hands down, she laid them upon Natsuki's back.
The touch is featherlight; so delicate that it takes Natsuki a moment to realise what's happening. "Yule?" Natsuki mumbles against her torso, making her shiver.
Ah, would Viola ever get used to Natsuki's contact? She supposes she shall not. "It is a celebration of the winter solstice concluding. There is an event called the Solstice Night. This is when we wake early to watch the sunrise." What else... "Mistletoe is hung."
"Mistletoe? That's a thing here as well?"
"Oh yes, though it has greater meaning here… A great log is also prepared and burned. There are many things which happen during this time. People tend to get very drunk off cider as well." Viola chuckled whisperously, the haze of fatigue starting to devour her. "...I remember my first Yule well. Anh ended up carrying me back to the quarters because the knights had gotten me drunk."
Viola had been drunk? Natsuki's eyes snapped open and she slothfully moved her head to better view the woman. That is almost impossible for her to imagine. Now herself on the other hand… 'I can't hold liquor to save my own life.'
"If we survive this carnage, you will enjoy Yule." Viola murmured, half asleep.
After a moment of pondering, Natsuki slowly eases up from the Arcewælcyrge. She's knocked out cold and looks deceptively innocent.
Condensing her weight onto her unwounded forearm, Natsuki peers down at her Arcewælcyrge. Seriously, who is this?
Conspicuous beauty aside, this woman is incredibly dangerous even when partially unclothed.
The scarring in particular is strangely attractive to Natsuki, even if it terrifies her at times. The cauterised wound, for instance… Looming her left hand towards it, she brushes an index and middle digit across the gorge.
She would never forget having to help Tomoe pin her like that.
The heavy marring of the breast is mostly hidden by a simplistic bra. A scar runs vertically along Viola's left breast—her death wound. This is also the same breast which Yohko had painstakingly stitched back together. A rigid line flowed down to encircle the nipple.
Viola had been impaled within the heart twice. Once by the Dark Whisperer and again by Anh. Yet Natsuki herself had been killed by Viola.
Who had killed Anh and those before her?
Natsuki frowned, feeling further conflicted because they would probably never know. That and Durandal… he had said Viola is a mistake. Why? How?
But… 'She's gorgeous.' Her heart leapt at her internal confession, hand sailing towards Viola's brow. She crept her fingertips along the scar trailing from the Arcewælcyrge's forehead to the right temple.
Ever since Natsuki's arrival, she had been getting herself harmed more and more. The digits paused haltingly. Something came to mind then dematerialised a second later. It's—no, she admonished herself. The exhaustion is muddying her logic.
Studiously, Natsuki nestled herself into the Arcewælcyrge's side.
Here they were to remain until the mid afternoon.
"Wælcyrge—Râd woffung bend in gold scýan fullan Wyrd..." The distant voice whispers into Natsuki's subconscious mind.
Mumbling into Viola's throat, a frown creases her brow.
"Gên beswyllan hwonne lêoht−fæt… Wýscan gástlic hol waru.." Opening her eyes, Natsuki remained prone against Viola's front.
What does that mean?
Grounding her hands either side of the slumbering Arcewælcyrge, Natsuki lethargically heaves herself from bed. Lumbering to the desk, she collapses into the stool then dragged over an inkwell and quill. She needs to pen this down before she forgets…
Absorbed so thoroughly within this task, she didn't notice that Viola had woken up as well.
Prising herself upwards, Viola tiredly watches the younger woman for a moment. What is she doing? Ah, she did not understand where Natsuki's energy comes from half the time. Sinking back down, she dazedly slid a hand across her face. A moment later however, her former Ánhere returned.
The two stared at one another before Viola broke it, shifting to make more room. "What woke you?"
"Hm… that voice again."
Slipping beneath the covers, Natsuki ran her fingertips through her hair. The dark tresses had tangled together, creating annoying knots. "It's speaking riddles again… just a load of nonsense."
"What did it say?"
"Wælcyrge—Of madness chained in gold, it is tempted by Fate. Drenched in Luminary Light… a ghostly eye keeps guard." Natsuki recited the translation. "Whatever that means." She flops down beside her Arcewælcyrge, exacerbated.
"I am not sure myself."
The mention of gold is a curious one for its importance is great in their culture. Since the days of yore, Chieftains, Kings and Queens have been buried with their golden hoards. Though this highly depends on which caste the buried belonged to. Thanes are usually entombed with their goods. Ceorls sometimes, but Bondsmen? Those were mere slaves.
A warrior who garnered prestige meanwhile, could earn a barrow fit for a King. They would be buried with their worldly possessions, hygienic tools, weapons, armour and even their horse. The latter of which is a sign of great wealth. Sometimes they were even buried beneath their ship.
It is rather similar to Chaldean custom—exempting the mummification rituals.
"Of madness chained in gold…" Viola murmured, musing. "Perhaps that references entombment?" Actually, this could potentially make a lot of sense. Before Arcewælcyrge Graceburt, their tombs were bejewelled in all manner of goods. Many of their venerable Wælcyrge had been canonised as well.
"Maddened death?" Natsuki's face scrunches up. "We already died."
"Physically, yes, spiritually?" Viola altered the subject slightly. "Grimnir is chosen by the Gods' and reincarnated. View it as that, mayhaps."
"You know his story?"
"I know some details." The Arcewælcyrge did not reveal that she only found out the titbits earlier. "I do not understand the concept of rebirth—in fact, I wonder whether my existence is false." The confused look she receives makes her continue: "Is this my body from my previous existences? Are my memories faux? Is this a hyper-realistic dream I am experiencing while I am comatose elsewhere?"
"...That sounds like thoughts I've had."
"You have?"
Natsuki hummed distantly, loosely wrapping her arms around her middle. Suddenly she felt self-conscious around Viola. They have been having a lot of personal conversations recently though. She supposes it is to be expected.
"I… thought about it constantly before." Natsuki said slowly, forcing the words out. These days she just tries to not think about it. "Not so much now—least when I can help it." She grumbled this time, sighing deeply.
She could easily fall back to sleep right now. But alas… Viola is already getting up.
"I am bringing you to the Palace, I hope you understand."
"Wait, now?"
"Goodness, no." The older woman got out of the bedroll and wandered towards her gear. Here she remains, beginning to equip her armour. "Before I went to the meeting, I notified the others of the plan. I had told a guard to apprise you as well, but you were missing."
Ah, that's right, Natsuki nodded. Around that time she had been figuring out how to hammer metal. It is a lot harder than it appears, that's for sure. "I was trying to make the dagger at that point. We were on the outskirts near the forest edge."
"Who helped you, anyway?" Viola glances her way, donning a new gorget atop her cuirass.
"Takeda initially, but he had guard duty midway through. Yuuichi took over."
The mention of the first Hauscarle put Viola on edge somewhat. Though Takeda is an excellent soldier, she could sense something. It wasn't necessarily dangerous, but Viola certainly did not like the feeling. Why is that?
The suspicion is genuinely there, however. Viola has always felt so around men, no matter their intentions. Now with Natsuki in the picture, Takeda unnerves her. The Hauscarle wouldn't be stupid enough to try something, would he?
Adjusting her gorget so it is angled correctly, she mused. Hadn't he been present in her previous existence? There is the vaguest memory filtering within her mind. If she could not remember him well, that meant he is not important, no?
Unless…
"The Hauscarlas' seem to highly respect you." She comments, picking for clues.
"Huh, well." Natsuki prised herself out of bed, lumbering towards Viola tiredly. "Maybe it's because I talk to them?" She shrugs, not really knowing military politics well. Or at least here she does not.
"You are technically breaking the hierarchical system." Viola is now attaching her rerebraces to her upper arms. "In most cases only the nobility can become a leader. We are an exception to this, of course, though this is a double-edged sword."
"Why's that?" Natsuki pulled down her gambeson's sleeve to check her bandages. There is no blemish within sight. It's still tender, but it's already so much better than before.
"The class system is deeply ingrained into every person. A slave cannot interact with a noble. Neither can servants even though they are free. They must first gain permission from the noble beforehand."
How does one gain permission if they're unable to in the first place? But wait. Viola outranks everyone here due to her title. "Yet you treat them normally." Natsuki points out.
"I am no noble nor I do not have the time for nonsensical things."
Natsuki supposed that is characteristic enough of Viola.
"A theow is as much a slave as a free gebur."
Why is their class system like this? Natsuki shook her head faintly, finding it all so uselessly complicated. "What even makes a gebur free?"
"Their rights are fewer than a peasant. They must pay their Lord for food, aid and protection. Most peasants meanwhile live in small communities with a militia. They pay the landowner tax while their yearly profits and belongings are recorded by the Crown."
"I don't understand how you can keep track of this." Natsuki muttered, threading her sleeve over her bandages carefully. "Why is there even a hierarchy for slaves?!" In fact, the entirety of their society is just that—hierarchy.
Frankly it is ridiculous that they were separated into castes in the first place.
As Wælcyrge, they were shoved into the noble caste—for whatever reason.
"Why are Wælcyrge classed as nobles, then?"
"Strong leaders are sought after." Viola said simply, fastening a rerebrace's buckle. "If you are a warrior who has proved your mettle, you are considered a natural leader. This is how Chieftains are chosen. As you succeed in battles of wit and metal, so does your rank. The legendary High Kings and Queens of Wyndlósma are the purest example of this. They were chosen through the sword, not by their blood."
"So… this is the same for Wælcyrge?" Natsuki hazard a guess, mildly surprised when Viola nodded. "Wind…loz…ma?" Natsuki's brow furrowed after a moment. Hang on a moment, she realised—that's Windbloom's old name, isn't it? "When was Windbloom founded?" She is somewhat afraid of this answer.
"Old enough that there are several creation myths." Viola chuckles softly, almost finished with attaching her spaulders. "There are multiple chronicles that document them. They are similar to the Wælcyrge Saga, actually."
Those manuscripts were within Wind's national archive though. With everything that's happening in the city, Gods' know what state that building is potentially in. "No matter." She changed the subject, testing a buckle to make sure it wasn't loose. When confident, she edged closer to Natsuki. "Do you need help?"
"Hm, a little."
Two Hours Later
Lantern duty. Of all things, she's the lanternbearer?! Natsuki sighed defeatedly, following Viola, Sarah and Nao.
Though… she eyed their backs, echoes of her past flashing before her eyes.
In this memory, four women—including herself—were before the Grandmeister's statue. They were the Five Columns of Garderobe. As quickly as it materialised, it disappeared.
Problem is, one of them is missing; this being their Spymaster, Mahya. Actually this is one of the many reasons they have returned to Guadeloupe. They were searching the sacked corridors for any survivors… or casualties.
"There's another group here." Sarah directed them towards a corpse pile of servants. "Do any of you recognise them?"
As time proceeded, the Knight-Captain's casualty list expanded. As well as this, her Palace map quickly becomes populated with scribbles. This chart locates obstructions, fatalities and other required mentionables.
"Though you may not like it, Natsuki—" Viola says, spying around two corners. "—as the Lēohtbæl's holder, your role is of extreme importance. Without that luminary lantern Captain Gallagher and Agent Zhang would have gone mad."
Is that why Yukino had brought that to the battle? Natsuki peered down at the lantern by her waist. Its flickering white flames illuminate across the corridor, forming the queerest of auras. Flashes of sparkles licked infected carcasses, doing something to them.
"What is it doing to the bodies?" Natsuki raised her left hand somewhat at this pile. The unsightly rot and gore is seemingly being vanquished before their eyes.
"Luminary Light is a form of spiritual power, isn't it?" Sarah asked, her eyes moving from her parchment pinned to a wooden board.
"It is." Viola confirms, heading to these bodies and kneeling down. Rummaging through their bodies she searched for any signs of identification.
Unfortunately this process had been immensely unsuccessful. It is likely they would have to deem their missing as deceased.
"Luminary Light is the essence of souls not from this physical world." Viola explained, easing a simplistic ring from one of the servant's fingers. "This is why the Wælcyrge do not go insane. Our ardour neutralises the fell energies that the undead emanate."
"Well." Nao said, lifting her boot from a blood-washed floorboard. "I don't care what it is, as long as it doesn't turn me into a freak." She took a cursory glance at Natsuki, her single eye darkening with sudden thought. Did no one notice that this light—whatever it is—radiates around Natsuki rather than the lantern? The argent sparkles hover within and around dark hair, making the tresses look dusky. Is she seeing things?
"No one will turn into a freak." Viola coolly motioned, handing the discovered ring to Sarah. The jewellery is promptly placed into a leather pouch on the Captain's waist.
"Still though, I am freezing." Nao laments, hugging herself mildly.
Is this agent always like this? Natsuki eyed her oddly as they resumed their stride.
In this portion of the Palace, a wall has partially caved in. Above them is also a hole—sunlight mixed with snow descending inside. Even this entire corridor's windows were smashed.
Had this section taken the brunt of the explosion they had heard?
"Over here!" Sarah had turned a corner, her voice echoing faintly.
The group quickened their stride, coming to a complete halt upon the next sight.
Gods', what is this?!
Propped against the wall is a slain knight. His head has drooped and his body is gorged in blood. It is not the man's corpse which kept their attention however, for they then spot two figures.
To their absolute disbelief, these two people are alive.
"Nina, Erstin?" Sarah is the first to react, rushing towards the duo. Her armour and gear rattled heavily, her footfalls echoing along the floorboards. "Are you alright?!"
"Wait!" Natsuki makes chase, the others following close suit soon afterwards. Is she stupid? She'll go insane!
Nao meanwhile, simply sauntered over, halting before the knight. Wait—what is that? Squatting downwards, she takes a book from the Knight's lap. This tome is bloody and ruined, but its crisp title could still be seen: Our Lady's Strife.
'The hell's this?' Glancing towards the group now huddled around the girls, Nao slowly heads over, book in hand.
"I-I-I—" Erstin growls in frustration—a feat rather uncharacteristic of the meek blonde. "Somehow? Spymaster Blythe told us to hide in her office."
"Mahya? Where is she, do you know?" Sarah presses, frowning when Erstin shakes her head.
"She told us to stay until she came back, but that was… w-was… I don't even know!"
Natsuki meanwhile, eyes their quiet long-term guest. Nina had always been a reluctant one, but something's clearly wrong. She has been staring at nothing in particular this entire time. Maybe worse, are the shakes. "She's got shellshock." Natsuki declares with immediate recognition, all eyes falling onto Nina.
"She hasn't said anything since one of the Altai—"
Viola knelt down, hovering her hand in front of Erstin's face. "—It is fine, you do not need to explain yourself." That, and Gods' know how Nina might react to Erstin's explanation. "Can you stand?"
"A-ah, maybe."
The procedure is painstaking, but gradually, the two girls are lifted onto their feet. Erstin ambivalently stays at Natsuki's side, stealing glances at Nina every so often. The latter meanwhile, is being supported by Sarah, the Knight-Captain's arm keeping her upright.
"Erstin." Viola said, motioning them to go the way they had arrived from. "Did you see any of the others?"
"N-no, Arcewælcyrge."
Hm. This is concerning. Viola took one final survey of the gored corridor before aiming her sights on the redhead. "Nao, you are to guard these two when we enter camp." Receiving a nod, she strides to the front. "Let us take a break."
Later, once they were taking their break, and Natsuki had Viola alone, the former Ánhere asked: "Do you think Mayha survived?"
"I… am unsure."
They are seated by one of the lonesome communional campfires, trying to stave off the cold. Well, Natsuki shows it, Viola not so much.
"There's so many people missing…" Natsuki mutters, vainly hugging her arms around her breastplate. Why does it have to be so damned cold?!
"Mahya, Shiro, the Night Watch, Yohko, Irina…" Those were the ones she remembers. Even the cat is missing!
"We will find them, eventually." In one way or another. Viola loops her arm around the former Ánhere, clasping her hand to Natsuki's spaulder. "Though you are doing remarkably well, Natsuki." She points out, pulling Natsuki into her own side.
"H-huh?" Finding her cheek pressing against Viola's, she grunts. "You stink of blood and sweat, Viola."
"So do you." Her Arcewælcyrge made a noise of amusement, relaxing into the hold. "Call me Shizuru."
"Who's fault is that?" Natsuki scoffs. "Of course I'd smell like you with how much you insist on touching me! I will not call you by that name until you bathe."
Oh, the cheek! Viola eyes her curiously, a playful grin tearing along her face. "Well now. I cannot say I regret that you smell like me—blood and guts nonetheless. Anyway, with how short we are on time and resources, bathing together would suffice, no?"
The look on Natsuki's face. Viola peered away, clearly trying not to laugh.
"...You're a pervert."
"What is that saying?" Viola eased away and stood from the stool. "Oh yes, I remember now: It takes one to know one!" A smirk now graced the Arcewælcyrge's lips as she offered her hand down to Natsuki. What a glorious blush—it's even going down Natsuki's throat!
"Ugh." The former Ánhere could only make a disgusted noise.
Natsuki got onto her feet, ignoring Viola's hand. "I'd like my water to not be a literal bloodbath." Palming the offending limb away, Natsuki brushed past her. "Anyhow, aren't we supposed to be meeting Gallagher in a moment?"
'She truly is something else.' Viola's eyes followed after the retreating Natsuki who did not wait for her. She could only sigh in response, her hot breath forming misty condensation within the chilled air. Natsuki certainly is playing hard to get.
Later, Natsuki reclaimed her duty as the lanternbearer.
"This smell is grotesque." She spits, keenly disgusted as she steps over carcasses.
This is the killing corridor which the Captain of the Guard had been holding. SLAVEs decorated this portion of the Palace, their bodies piled up like literal ramparts. The gore, blood, rot and stink amalgamated into a loathsome violation of the senses.
"I feel I will contract a disease, even with the lantern's help." Sarah shakes her head, trying to breathe through her mouth. Though even this is vulgar for she could taste their surroundings. 'If I hadn't been desensitised years ago, I feel I'd be throwing up by now…'
Still though. The Knight-Captain's gaze swept towards Natsuki to her right—Viola on her left. How isn't Natsuki losing her mind? In terms of experience, she has very little. "Natsuki." Their virid eyes locked. "Did you witness similar things like this in your previous life?"
"I saw a few mass graves and outcomes of genocide." Natsuki rolls her shoulder gently, the muscle now sore due to carrying the lantern. This thing is heavier than it looks. "I was… ah—" Natsuki frowned in thought, attempting to explain her role concisely. "—a commander and politician of sorts. Most of my career was spent behind the scenes."
Very few knew of herself and Viola's previous lives. Even so, the Knight-Captain only knew scraps of information. This had only started just before building the encampment.
"A politician?" The blonde hums, interested more than ever. "I still find it amazing that Wælcyrge aren't from this world. If there wasn't historical proof I would not have believed you for a second."
"Some still do not." Viola said as they turned the corner. What awaited them made them stop in their tracks. They had been heading for the underground laboratory. Alas, for they were instead greeted by a gaping chasm. It went through the dungeons and into the old cistern—the laboratory's location.
"What in the world…" Sarah speechlessly stares down into the pit. In order to see better, she sets her foot down upon the floor's edge to lean. A shard of wood falls into the darkness, an echo reverberating several moments after it fell. Wait, is this where those explosions took place?
"...Did Yohko purposefully collapse the cistern?" Viola also peered down in awe.
A ray of sunlight showed that stone pillars had shattered. Rubble is everywhere, probably a few feet thick at least. There's absolutely no way that Yohko and Irina had survived this.
"Oh, Gods'." Sarah mumbled. "They're dead, aren't they?"
"If only we had been more competent and reached them in time." Viola rebuked sadly.
She guesses that they had purged all evidence of their advanced technology. If that fell into enemy hands…
"No, they might be alive." The two older women looked astoundedly at Natsuki. "There's a tunnel." Pointing towards a distant corner, this is indeed the case. A large gate is half-closed—its mechanism very likely broken. "It looks exactly like the Archmeister's Corridor in Garderobe Academy. It is an escape route that leads to the forbidden sector of the campus. It eventually reached the Founder's Memorial up on the surface. Does the Palace have any down there?"
"It's a repurposed cistern, it's bound to have an exit somewhere." The Knight-Captain said slowly, not totally sure. "The routes may have been sealed up long ago."
"It is worth the shot." Viola took a final cursory glance across the debris. No, there is nothing left, is there? Char marks scaled the walls—a clear sign of fire, yet they had seen no smoke? Had the floor perhaps caved and smothered the fire with rubble?
"What if they're trapped in the wreckage though?!" Sarah insisted, getting ready to literally jump. Before she could, Viola grappled her. "Archv—"
"—The foundations are far too weak! You would fall straight through!"
"How do you know that?!"
"I hate this cold." Natsuki huddled into her blanket by the campfire.
They had just returned, but it had unfortunately started snowing even harder. A mantle of argent covered the entire encampment, forcing everyone towards the fires. What Natsuki finds worse, is this is a clinging chill. It is the most undesirable form of frigidness—one she is sure she would never overcome.
"Would you like another blanket?" Viola offers Natsuki, grasping the quilt's back to partially cover Natsuki's head. The snowfall veiled this fabric instead, painting the brown fur silvery.
"No, you need yours." Isn't this ironic? Natsuki huffs a breath, condensation pooling around her. Her element is ice! Why isn't she cold-inclined? It makes no sense!
"Perhaps, though I do not feel the cold as you do."
Their officials were starting to arrive at their communal fire, sitting themselves down.
"Arcewælcyrge." Laura nods as she sits, seemingly unaffected by the weather as well. "The Grand Chevalier and the Hauscarlas will arrive momentarily. They're rounding up our best Arles Guards."
"Understood." Viola picks up a leather cylinder that is lying next to her stool. Dusting off snowflakes, she opened it and slid out rolls of parchment. "This is the information from the Palace." She leans over Natsuki to hand over the documentation.
Natsuki is freezing! Somehow she could feel the cold radiating off of her. "Are you alright?" She lowered her voice.
"I'm just too cold." Natsuki mumbled quietly in response. Though, why could she feel her Anchor heating up again? Fidgeting uncomfortably, she fled her gaze from Viola's. "I'll tell you later."
'Later?' The Arcewælcyrge stared at her quizzically. Soon enough, this process was interrupted as more people drew closer.
"Arcewælcyrge!" Chie strode over, taking a seat beside Laura. "Sarah told me something happened in the Palace?" Behind her in the distance Aoi could be seen breathlessly rushing towards them.
"Chie! W-why did you race ahead like that?!"
"Oh." The Knight-Commander twisted on her stool to regard her. "I'm sorry, you know how it is when there's news like this. I have a one-track mind."
"You could say that again!"
"As you know, we have good and bad news." Viola said over the raising chatter as yet more people arrived. "Most of the staff are either dead or missing. We are yet to find the Spymaster or Royal Scholar too. As for the science crew, well…"
"Sarah said the entire lab has collapsed?" Chie nodded sullenly, dragging over a stool for Aoi.
"Yes. We believe that is where the explosions originated from."
Laura, who is reading through the list that the Knight-Captain wrote, said: "This is horrifying. Did you truly only find Nina and Erstin alive?" How had they survived in the first place?
"Miraculously they indeed survived. I have no idea how they managed it, quite frankly." Viola rose to her feet and motioned Natsuki to stand as well. Swapping stools with her former Ánhere, she now sat beside the Arles Captain of the Guard. "For our dead, there should be two sections. One is for the servants and another for the knights."
Taking the rolled up map, Viola pulled it open enough to show Laura some location markers. "Do you see the numbers here? Every person is assigned a number on these lists."
"Ah, I understand now." Laura nodded, finding a knight's number on the map. "This should make it more straightforward for our soldiers to move their bodies. We need to speed up this process, the risk of disease is already severe."
Alas, one question is on everyone's minds.
Is this truly enough?
A/N: Last month Cyne Wælcyrge had 133 visitors. I am certain that most of these visitors are bots. How many of you are genuine readers? I would like to know!
To everyone who has reviewed thus far: Thank you! You have been keeping my motivation alive for a long time now. (•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ Chapter XXIV will be uploaded on the 24th December! Until then!
Mintoin — Firstly, I wish you weren't anonymous so I could respond in PMs. Everyone probably thought this chapter was longer!
Thank you so much for this review. You have no idea how much help you have been. You may have just saved this story in more ways than you could possibly imagine.
Anyway, it's been so long since I received critique and I want to wholeheartedly thank you for this. For the longest time no one has pointed out structural issues like this. I have tried separating actions and dialogue a little, so I'm hoping it reads much better now. How well did I do? Does the flow still need adjusting?
Thanks for the character progression pointers as well. I'm glad it's reading across like that. As for the well balanced characterisation, are there any critiques you have for the scenes? People have said before that scenes seem jumbled but they aren't able to explain why. It's my theory that it's the hallucination scenes which are responsible for this. Are you picking up on any of this?
For the research background, the main focus is Norse and Anglo-Saxon culture. You were close but far on the Gaelic elements as these two cultures are totally Germanic. Though I am planning to include Gaelic themes now (aka Brythonic Celts).
I am huh… I'm unsure whether to be flattered or afraid that you mentioned Lord of the Rings, haha. It's interesting actually since I've come across some of Tolkein's translations and inspirations during my research. For instance, here is a section of The Wanderer, an Old English elegy you might find familiar:
Hwær cwom mearg? (Where has the horse gone?)
Hwær cwom mago? (Where is the rider?)
Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa? (Where is the giver of treasure?)
Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? (Where are the seats at the feast?)
Hwær sindon seledreamas? (Where are the revels in the hall?)
Eala beorht bune! (Alas for the bright cup!)
Eala byrnwiga! (Alas for the mailed warrior!)
Eala þeodnes þrym! (Alas for the splendour of the Prince!)
Yes, I have been considering converting this into an original story, but I want it finished first. Whenever that'll be. Cyne Wælcyrge's prologue only recently ended.
Again, thank you so much!
