SS 1.2 – A New Albion

The main fleet sailed to Londinium, but there was no great applause or cheer. People stepped out of their homes and watched the skies in trepidation, not knowing what the fleet intended amidst the horrific rumors of a demon in Newcastle and the simultaneous death of the leader of the rebels and the king.

The temporary new flagship Rimmington, a smaller model of the Lexington-class, descended towards the royal palace's private landing area.

As the former royal court until it was moved to Newcastle when Londinium was lost, this large bustling city had been chosen by Reconquista as its own capital and Cromwell's personal fief as well.

The chancellor, steward and numerous other lords quickly came out of the palace and prepared a greeting.

They had heard rumors of both Lord Cromwell and the former king's demise, saw the terrifying visage of the dark power that enshrouded the skies in the distance, and even had runners inform them ahead of time that the Reconquista army had surrendered to the new emperor "Muurleth".

But even so, many found it difficult to believe the fantastical events described by the messengers, and dared not act as if Cromwell was actually dead until confirmed in person by a top leader in Reconquista.

Chief Commander General Fairfax in his iconic plate armor descended from the Rimmington with a grim expression, surrounded by similarly grim looking lieutenants.

He was followed by the newly promoted fleet admiral, which raised many eyebrows at the conspicuous absence of the well known, aggressive and irritable Johnston. After the admiral came a couple of vice-admirals.

It soon became clear that Cromwell would not be arriving.

"General Fairfax, where is the Lord Protector?" The chancellor stepped forward from the crowd of nobles and asked.

Fairfax came to a stop in front of the chancellor. "Chancellor, did you not receive our messengers? The Lord Protector is dead."

A series of gasps arose.

"Ah, we did, but the events they described…"

"Were unbelievable? Unfortunately—I mean miraculously, they are completely true! The great Muurleth, He Who Sees Beyond, has exposed the lies of the former Lord Protector, whose claim to Void was nothing more than trickery, deceit, and heresy! Brimir has abandoned us, for Reconquista have committed sins beyond redemption! But Emperor Muurleth has graced us with his patronage, and offers a new path forward!" General Fairfax declared with a booming voice.

The proclamation was met with looks of stunned disbelief.

"This…this is impossible. This is heresy of the highest order. What madness has taken you, General? Where is Admiral Johnston? Why aren't the rest of you saying anything? Has our army's leadership all fallen to madness?" A noble in fancy robes walked forward with big strides and gestured to the lieutenant generals, admiral and vice admirals behind Fairfax.

"Lord Eastway, Admiral Johnston was aboard the Lexington when His Majesty obliterated it. As for this madness you speak of, please consider your words more carefully. General Fairfax speaks only the truth, and has the full support of the army and fleet," said the new fleet admiral.

"You're gone insane! How could the reports possibly be true? The dead rising? One man defeating an entire army? It must be fabricated! Emperor Muurleth? Ridiculous! You must be attempting a coup!" The noble gestured wildly. "Where is this all-powerful Muurleth then?! Why doesn't he show us his face?"

'This fool is courting death and he doesn't even know it!' Fairfax thought with alarm.

"You dare to mock His Majesty Muurleth, the Prince of Duality, Lord of the Infinite! He is ever present, ever watching, and his power beyond your imagination! Stop now with your foolishness before you bring his Curse of Doom upon us!" General Fairfax drew his swordwand and held it threateningly forward.

Other nobles took out their wands and started backing away with frightened faces. They were not weak but the top leaders of the army were all Square and Triangle class mages. There was a reason that they stayed at court and were not officers in the army.

The military leaders similarly took up stances, but instead of backing away, they moved toward Lord Eastway.

"No, you lie! What curse? It's a coup! A coup, or madness! Demon worshippers, the lot of you! Heretics! God will smite you!" The noble yelled at the top of his voice before levitating away quickly.

"Kill him now!" Even before Fairfax made the order, his lieutenants had whipped into action.

Wind spells quickly brought Eastway back onto the ground, where his head was cut off cleanly.

A number of other nobles started screaming and running away.

"Stop! Do not allow anyone to escape to spread heretical ideas! We must not allow the Curse of Doom to take root in Londinium!" General Fairfax screamed with bloodshot eyes.

'I'll kill them all myself if I have to!'

The Curse of Doom is what they had named the terrifying phenomenon in Newcastle where residents suddenly became weak with pain, grew unnatural warts, bled from their nose and eyes, lost hair, suffered diarrhea, and all manner of other problems.

Many had died within hours without the help of healing magic, and even worse, the Curse infected their water mages, as if condemning them for trying to fight the punishment Muurleth had inflicted upon them.

It was worse than any plague in the history of Halkegenia. Their water mages couldn't even identify or cure whatever was wrong with the cursed victims, all they could do was fight the symptoms, which soon came back without continuous healing.

All who fell under the curse were doomed to live in agony if they did not die immediately.

At least the effect seemed to be limited to the area close to where the Muurleth's spell annihilated the Lexington. Unfortunately, they had also discovered that those who carried the curse would keep spreading it regardless of whether they had any symptoms, albeit it weakened every time it spread outside the main area of effect.

As a result, their water mages had to be quarantined as well and the uninfected water mages refused to help the commoners, as well as switching to potions instead of direct healing for nobles. That was an expensive solution but it became at least manageable for nobles.

Even so, the infected nobles could not return to see their family lest they infect their loved ones with the curse. They did not know how long the curse would last, and it could be their entire lives for all they knew. After the long campaigns of the war, it was a devastating realization.

All of Newcastle was practically deserted now as the residents fled, and due to the initial confusion and chaos from the loss of a large part of the fleet leadership, they were unable to keep the residents or deserters from fleeing.

At this point, they could only pray that the effect weakened enough not to bring utter disaster through the whole kingdom.

The fleet was well prepared ahead of the landing for possible combat at the palace however, so the other ships quickly moved down along with the Dragon Knights and other air corps.

It wasn't long before the panicking nobles at court were all rounded up and Fairfax gave them an angry lecture on how close they were to disaster.

The few nobles who continued to openly doubt the veracity of the military's claims were quickly burned at the stake, alongside the body of Lord Eastway, in an attempt to eliminate dangerous ideas that could lead to the Curse spreading, and cleanse their bodies of any Curse that may be already active.

Like this, the army seized control of the capital and much of the remaining forces of the former Reconquista each time they visited the governing lord's castle. A small minority of nobles had heard the news and organized themselves before Fairfax's forces got to them, so the kingdom continued to be in a state of civil war.

O O O

The Pope of Romalia, Vittorio Severare, sat in his private study, reading the latest communications from his agents abroad.

If anybody who did not know him saw him, they would find it difficult to identify him as a Pope. He was young, extraordinarily so, seemingly only in his early twenties. A purple robe decorated with red and gold linings adorned his body, while his room was bare and tidy.

A round mirror sat atop his desk, reflecting his handsome—some would even say beautiful—visage. Another young man stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.

Vittorio's eyes ran through the parchment, eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation.

"…it was a sight that beggared description, a light that evoked reverence by its mere appearance. It illuminated the whole country, a searing light whose brightness was almost blinding yet gripped my eyes for I could not look away. It set alight every peak and crevice of the nearby mountain range with such a beauty that no words could do it justice, a sheer radiance that must be seen to imagine. It was a newborn star that outshone—nay, eclipsed the sun, its splendour like the most holiest of sights that one could only imagine in the halls of Valhalla. It was golden, purple, gray, and blue, it was yellow and red and oh so fleeting as it faded away to reveal an enormous ball of fire. It moved almost ponderously, rising up and forming into the shape of a brain. Smoke overtook the fire and it grew ever higher until it towered high into the sky like a tremendous mushroom, which was similar to a painting that I had seen before, of the centurial eruptions at the Fire Dragon Mountains.

It was only then that I understood, and later verified after seeking other witnesses, that what I had seen was a simply an explosion of unprecedented scale, a spell so far beyond the Square-class it should have only existed in myth and legend, belonging only to a mighty being like a Great Spirit or a god, and not a mere mortal mage. Yet drunk and fearful soldiers revealed to me that it was indeed the work of a single mage, or perhaps some manner of demon, as none had seen its face but two red lights for eyes behind its demonic helm, and it had wrought not only that terrible spell, but defeated the entire army of Reconquista at Newcastle in mere seconds, and it called itself Muurleth, a most foreign and unpleasant name one could well imagine as that of a demon's…"

"Ah, if only I could have seen it myself. Could it have been the Founder's Explosion spell?" The young Pope spoke aloud.

He continued to read until he found another intriguing bit.

"…When I arrived in Gallia, I was shocked to learn that Muurleth's spell had been seen even from so far away, and indeed even from the shores of Germania too, by the words of traveling merchants…"

"Truly? The distance from Newcastle to the nearest Gallian port city should be almost two hundred and fifty miglio," he said before getting up and opening a map from his shelves. He brought it down to his desk and tapped a line from Newcastle to Gallia.

"Your Holiness, do you think Muurleth is Albion's Void?" The other young man asked as he watched the Pope. He was even younger than the pope, and with similarly striking features, but he wore a white leather coat and a cape instead of priestly robes.

"With Lifthrasir, it would certainly be possible to amplify Explosion to that level. But where did he come from? It is too sudden, too strange. There have been no hints of Albion's Void mage up until now. More importantly, when did he have the chance to learn Void spells? The Wind Ruby and Music Box had been separated for many years, and the rest are all accounted for," said Vittorio, looking at the red Fire Ruby ring on his own finger. "Well, at least it should make Joseph easier to deal with."

"Did you foresee something like this, Your Holiness? Is that why you did not send me?"

For a moment, the Pope did not answer. His expression was unreadable as his eyes found their way to the runes etched onto the other young man's hand.

"No, Julio. In truth, it should have been preferable if Cromwell had succeeded. Even if he was that man's pawn, he did rouse Albion with the promise of retaking the Holy Land," he finally said.

"Then, what shall we do now? Will you agree to the College's suggestion of a punitive crusade against Albion?"

"Why must fellow children of the Founder be so eager to shed each other's blood?" The Pope said with a sigh. "It is not Albion or its innocent people who have sinned against God, but Muurleth who has enslaved them. I will not declare a crusade yet, as it will be necessary to gather support, and to acquire passage through Gallia. In the meantime, without Joseph's support, Muurleth should find it difficult to manage the Albion treasury. Even in Romalia, a rich and wealthy country, there are children that go without bread each day. For Albion that has been racked by civil war for two years, it is quite possible that Muurleth's rule will collapse on its own, in which case there is no need to act. For now, excommunication will suffice, and I also wish to observe what Joseph does next."

Vittorio then stood up and placed a hand on Julio's shoulder. "However, I do have a new mission for you, Julio. If Muurleth is indeed one of the chosen four, then you shall determine whether he can be persuaded to ally with his brothers for the Founder's holy quest. You should have ample time to complete this mission and to investigate the status of Tristain's Void mage as well, before we launch the crusade. In the end, the throne of Albion is only a minor concern. It must not distract us from carrying out the Founder's will."

"Understood."

O O O

Near the southern shores of Albion…

An unflagged warship armed with cannons intercepted a merchant ship. It seemed that they were pirates.

The captain of the merchant ship could only stop and surrender, lacking the firepower to fight back.

After boarding, the pirates questioned the captain. They had done this many times with other ships, and had heard the latest news from Albion in this way.

"Boss, there seems to be an order for your return," one of the pirates told their apparent leader, a black haired man with exquisite but dirtied clothing, and a patch over his left eye.

"Oh? An invitation? Or an arrest order?" He asked.

"Neither. Just an order, and a threat. If you don't return, your title will be stripped."

"That makes it sound like I still have a title. What a pointless ruse," he said with a laugh.

"Maybe not. Your sister was legitimized and pronounced a royal princess."

The pirate boss's face turned into a frown. "My half-elf sister…? That one?" He had not even realized he'd had a sister until a few days ago, when news of the duel between King Henry and Cromwell reached his ears.

"It seems that she was assigned the former royal guard too. She is currently at Londinium Palace. Maybe we could use the secret passage and send an agent to meet her, find out what's going on."

"Wait a minute. How did this ship's passengers know about this? Are they not commoners?"

"There's a noblewoman from Gallia. She says she is returning in secret to report to the Gallian royal family. She also seems to be under the impression that we're Reconquista loyalists that are hiding from Muurleth and I played along with it. She demanded that we bring her to Gallia. It sounds like our suspicions were right. The Gallian royal family was behind everything. But Muurleth spoiled their plans at the last minute."

"Take me to see her first," the pirate boss said.

They went to a spacious cabin where a beautiful woman sat haughtily with a small smirk, apparently uncaring of the numerous other pirates in the room with her. Her features were exotic with olive colored skin, her dark eyes were sharp and dangerous, accentuated by the dark purple dress she wore. She did not seem quite like a Gallian to the pirate boss, but he supposed that she could just be a mixed blood. Probably had Rub 'al Khali ancestry, as Gallia did stretch east a very long way.

"Hello Miss. Might I have your name?" He asked standing in front of her.

A malevolent chuckle was the response, giving him an uneasy vibe. He stepped back involuntarily, but before he could think more on the matter, a sharp pain burst from his chest.

He looked down in shock to see a sword sticking out before it was ripped out. Outraged yells from his men were drowned out by screams of pain.

All around him, several of what he thought were his own men had morphed into monstrous grey golems with glowing red magic circles on their chests that attacked the men who didn't morph. They were incredibly strong and spells hit them to seemingly no effect, resulting in a one-sided massacre.

The woman stood up and walked closer to him even as he dropped to his knees.

"My dear Prince Wales, I'm afraid your time has come to an end," she said in a silky voice.

He clutched his swordwand and pointed it at her shakily.

"W-who are y-you?"

"Who am I? Why, I am the holy familiar of Void, the Mind of God. And God has decreed that you shall give up your life for the good of all," she said.

With a quickly muttered incantation, he unleashed the strongest spell he could. A shearing drill of wind blasted forth.

But the woman disappeared and the spell merely destroyed the cabin wall behind it. A cold hand caressed his face from behind, which sent an icy chill throughout his body.

His hand dropped his wand involuntarily.

He was pulled back and the woman held him close like in a lovers' embrace. Her other hand went down and found his own left hand, then pried a ring off his finger. The white crystal glinted in the light.

"I'll be taking this, my prince. You won't need it anymore."

The last of his strength gone with that spell, he was unable to do anything but watch.

The woman then stood up again and held the white crystal ring in her right hand, walking out to the open air. Raising it to the sun, she smiled.

"The Wind Ruby…I wonder what secrets of Void you shall reveal…" She murmured softly.

O O O

In the deep night, a tall solitary figure stood on the balcony of a huge palace.

A middle aged man, blue haired with a strong frame and handsome features, he watched the stars while drinking a glass of wine, wearing a blue and white set of sleepwear.

The smell of incense was in the air, and a yellow ruby ring was on his middle finger. It shone with an unnatural glow in the starlight.

He breathed in the refreshing night air and the burning incense.

"A god, is he? With only so much power…how quaint," he spoke as if to nobody, a light smile on his lips.

Yet, he apparently heard a response, because he held a conversation by himself.

"The loss of the Music Box is unfortunate, but you have done well."

"It matters not. Let him rule over the pitiful remains of that country for a little while. I shall even give him a toast if he can cling on to the throne without Gallian assistance."

"Is that so? Interesting."

"No, return first, so that I can use that second key. Then I will decide."

Had his servants heard him, they would assume he was again in a bout of lunacy or play-acting. It was after all nothing new for the incompetent, lazy, and mad king Joseph of Gallia.

A/N: And there's the reaction chapter. The Curse of Doom is radiation poisoning. Actually, radiation poisoning isn't biologically contagious like viruses. But these people don't know what's causing it, and don't realize that materials such as clothing and other objects can be irradiated, thereby spreading the "infection", even if they practice reasonable hygiene, for their level of technology.

The golems Myoz used this time are not the same as the dolls from before. These are the smaller versions of the Jormungandr that were used to devastating effect in canon.

Why was Joseph unimpressed by the power of MC's nuke? It's because, unlike the religious Papal agent who carefully described the intensity of the blast with romantic language and not just the size of it, Joseph didn't pay close enough attention to that. The Fire Jewels in canon are supposed to create much larger fireballs-nukes actually have fairly small fireballs as much of the energy is released as light and pressure waves.

There will be a few more side-stories to explore some other things going on that the MC is doing during this period of time from other POVs.